#modern!han imagine

[harrisonbrainrot]

Modern!Han SFW Alphabet

My asks are fucked up for some reason idk wtf is happening. This was also requested.

A C H M N P

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

It takes a little bit, but Han is very affectionate. It's quiet affection. He wants to press a kiss to your forehead, hold you close while you're at a bonfire party, he wants his hand in your back pocket while you drag him around stores. He wants to hold your hand while he drives or keep his on your thigh.

A common occurrence is talking to your friends at the bar and glancing over to see Han leaning on a pool cue, watching you with a crooked smile. He'll take that as a sign to approach you, dropping his arm over your shoulder, his forehead pressing to the side of your head. "What're we talkin' 'bout, babes?" punctuated with a kiss to your temple.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

He can be incredibly clingy, he wants you clingy. He wants you all over him, always. On his lap, curled into his chest, your head under his chin. He wants your head on his thigh while you read a book, his fingers threading through your hair. He loves to spoon on the couch, the rough, plaid fabric a stark contrast to your soft and sweet skin. He'll pepper you with kisses and read an owner's manual to some old car he just bought. It puts you right to sleep, you try to follow along but his voice lulls you regardless. He'll snuggle into the back of your neck as you sleep, whispering sweet words you won't hear. Little things like "I love ya, baby.. Thanks for puttin' up with my ass. 'Preciate ya."

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

He's a bear hug kinda guy, his arms wrapped around you as he stands straight. He'll pick you right off the ground. He might even spin you around if he's feeling frisky. Rough claps on the back. He's always conscientious of you though, never too rough, always worried about you. "Didnt hurt ya, babygirl? You're tough, c'mere."

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

LAZY MORNINGS. Lazy with golden sunlight through old, vintage curtains lighting up the orange, browns, and yellows of his kitchen. The sun moving across his tile as you pour him coffee and juice, pancakes and eggs cooking and nearly burning. He's distracting, standing behind you in those shitty old flannel pants, his bare chest pressed warm and firm to your back. His hands roam, his lips seek out your smooth skin, mapping a new path each morning. That raspy voice humming as his hands grab your ass. He rubs his scruff on your neck and shoulder like a content cat, nearly purring when you reach up to rake your hands through his hair.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Slow nights. Dinner can either be a team effort, a frozen meal, or take out. Honestly, it's a toss up. He's a grill master. He usually grills Friday nights, has a few brewskis, maybe watches some bullshit sport or bad movie. Usually gets stoned as shit. That's not unusual, he typically smokes as soon as he gets home from work. He takes a dad nap on the couch midway through the afternoon and is fairly drowsy for the rest of the evening. You usually have to shake him awake three quarters of the way through the movie, having to drag his ass to bed. He'll cuddle the FUCK out of you. He's a space heater. He's so warm, it's almost too much on summer nights.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

He can be pretty sassy. He has a temper, he usually matches energy. If he's feeling a but of attitude from you, he will match that attitude. He can get kind of mean, but the longer you're together, the more he catches himself and grows as an individual. You don't need to coddle him for that. He learns on his own, he's actually fairly self aware. He's self aware of being an asshole. But for you? Huge softie. He's stubborn. You cannot tell him what to do or how to do it. Even if he's wrong, he won't admit it until after he's been proven wrong. He might be mildly quick to anger but he gets over it quick. Let him stomp off and he'll figure it out. He gets over it and comes back like a dog, tail tucked. Puppy dog eyes. "Can my babygirl forgive her daddy?" Ugh, yeah, you can.

[cryptidcalling]

Just imaging Vesper in hanfu <3

[call-of-daydreams]

12 days of Christmas

12/14/24 Unexpected Gifts- Bang Chan, who secretly likes you, leaves you gifts for the 12 days leading up to Christmas day. And each day the number of gifts goes up.

Fluff/Expensive gift giving

12/15/24 A Family Christmas- Price comes home from deployment just in time for the holidays. He's also just in time to be there for his little girl's first Christmas.

Fluff/Reader has a daughter/Smut/Mentions of making another baby

12/16/24 Home for The Holidays- Lee Know comes back early from touring just to spend Christmas and the New Years with his favorite girl.

Fluff/Engagement

12/17/24 A Holiday Miracle- After losing contact with your husband Kyle and starting to think the worst. He shows up randomly at the door with a gift to help you forgive him for going no contact.

Fluff/Large emotions

12/18/24 Snowed in for Christmas- After waking up late the three of you realize that you can't leave the house because of a pile of snow blocking the door so, to make the best of it you, Changbin, and Hyunjin decide to keep warm in the comfort of your bed... and bodies.

Smut/Threesome

12/19/24 The True Meaning of Christmas—Johnny is Catholic, so he loves to go all out for Christmas. He helps you decorate the house, but he always insists on hanging the Christmas lights.

Fluff/Pregnancy reveal

12/20/24 Merry Christmas, My Love-Simon decides to give you the best Christmas gift you've been wanting for a while, a baby. Maybe because he wants to one up Johnny but mostly because he knows you want you want to become a mom.

Smut/Breeding/Baby talk

12/21/24 A Christmas Wish- Han, Jeongin, and you all decide to open gifts and Han and Jeongin gives you a pet.

Fluff/Gift giving/Semi-angst at the end

12/22/24 A Festive Gathering- Felix takes you to a family Christmas party back in Australia.

Fluff

12/23/24 The Gift of Giving- Price decides that his team, Ghost, Soap and Gaz need a much needed home cooked meal. And who better to cook it than his own missus. Plus with you cooking he knows for sure his men will eat all the food, after all they don't want to see the disappointed look on your face.

Flluff/"Family" Gathering

12/24/24 Jingle Bells & Holiday Cheers- Seungmin and you celebrate Christmas late due to him coming back later than expected from tour.

Fluff/Gift giving

12/25/24 Deck the Halls- Bangchan decides to share you with his boys, doing this you find out that all the boys have some unexpected kinks.

Smut/Kink exploring/Free use

[hanasnx]

screw your friendship.

MINORS DNI 18+ WARNINGS: infidelity kink, reader being technically unfaithful to their boyfriend, fem!reader so female pronouns + anatomy, a teensy bit of angst and a little bit of smutty dialogue <3, han being persistent

Your phone is pressed to your ear, HAN SOLO's voice on the other line. “What your boyfriend doesn’t know won’t kill him. He’s probably out having his fair share of tail right now, you shouldn’t feel bad—“

Your nerves are running amok inside your body. As if your skin is the only thing keeping you from going everywhere at once because of your snowballing mistake. “Don’t say that!” You hear his sigh.

“Sweetheart, listen to me. I’m tired of the game we’ve been playing. I want you, and I’m gonna have you. And your imaginary boyfriend can’t stop me.”

You sit up in your bed, pulling a pillow to your ribcage to calm your beating heart from the thrill he’s causing you. “It’s just that.. You can’t just..!” Somehow, you steel yourself from his wiles. “Han!Stop confusing me—“

“You know who can stop me? You. And you haven’t.”

You swallow, falling into complacent reticence at how his truth rings.

“You like the attention, and I’m happy to give it to you. All night. Say yes.”

You can’t even speak, your skin is on fire, your throat aches. So he invites himself to continue.

“You know how much I’ve been thinking about what you sound like? All those pretty noises. Wonder how tight you are, how wet I can get you.”

Hoping to displace him, gain the upper hand before it hopelessly eludes you, you scramble: “Aren’t you at work?”

“I’m in the truck on my way home. Gonna shower. Wanna join?”

A deep inhale and exhale, leveling your voice to speak as you rub your legs together. Regardless, you try to be graceful voicing your denial, “Han...”

His hurt shines through. The sting of yet another rejection. So he lashes out, “Yeah, it’s better that way, isn’t it? Staying safe. Stringing me along so you can have your cake and eat it too, right?”

Desperate to figure out a way to fix this, to show him you appreciate him, you’re quick to reply, “No, it’s not like that— I just… I cherish your friendship—“

A wry laugh that alarms you comes from the other line. “Bullshit! Bullshit you cherish my friendship. I should fuck you for lying to me like that.”

[defensivelee]

i cant stop repeating the 'hetero jessica' post im kind of obsessed with it. but also it's b&w coded as hell, like our bisexual prince has a date with hetero hanni thats what they call him thats his name heterooooo hanni

[canonsinthehead]

RGG/Yakuza/Judgement at the Grocery Store

UPPER MANAGEMENT = UP WORKING CLASS = WC CHAIRMAN AND HIS ENTOURAGE = CE CLIENTS= C

Yakuza:

Kiryu (WC): Initially a Stock clerk was eventually Promoted to IT (responsible for price accuracy for the printed price shelf tags, maintaining the computers, point of sale software the cash registers use, and any electronic scales that weigh and print prices).

Akiyama (CE): Investor. Due to his generous “donations” to the company, he is part of the chairman’s entourage (due to his wallet’s  size, his opinion matters). Thanks to him (and Tachibana), they were able to raise the salaries of the employees not part of upper management, so all of them love him and get along well when he is there. Akiyama can admit that he grew quite fond of many employees, especially Hana who will become his personal secretary. As expected, many members of upper management can’t stand him, wondering why he is even allowed to be around (they are jealous)

Haruka (WC): Cashier

Nishiki (WC): Online order clerk. Spends a lot of time chatting with Kiryu but likes his position since he is away from the upper management most of the day (he thinks they are scary and wants none of it)

Yumi (WC): Cashier

Daigo (CE): Chairman. A big picture of him is in the store saying he is the boss but you can rarely see him in the building. But for the few times, he visits the place, the upper management wake up out of their coma and pull up an act as if issues where not part of their daily lifes (they basically threaded MAjima to not blow the whistle about who is not doing their jobs.  Saejima (WC):. He prefers something more simple and since he listens to Majima’s endless rants about his position everytime. he would better be left alone away from customer service but ended up as a Loss prevention associate (helps a grocery store combat and apprehend shoplifters and unlawful employees. They often monitor security cameras for suspicious activity, and some dress as shoppers to monitor activity covertly. Loss prevention associates often contact local law enforcement to alert them of problems.). Lee, who is a security guard works along him.

Ryuji (C): Rude customer

Yuya (WC): shopping cart attendant. While he was proposed higher level position many times, he declined them

Nishida (UP): Previously a stock clerk who graduated from his position to become Majima’s right man. They separate Majima’s workload between them.

Majima (UP): Customer Service Representative. Held to higher regard because of more experience, knowledge, and skills. Since nobody in this company wants to do their job, he has to do a lot people’s tasks. Is the main person dealing with issues with customers (that’s the person we send when they say “I wanna talk to the manager”). Stressed.

Date: (highest working class) Pharmacist.

Rikiya (WC): Floor Clerk

Hana: (upper working class) HR Secretary. She will likely interview new employees. Nishitani (UP): Supervisor. Regardless his personality, he actually does his job. He knows how to make the daily life spicy (Kashiwagi hates but since he knows how to manage rude clients to fuck off so gracefully and he can shut down arguments easily). Since he does his job so well, you can find do all type of random stuff in the store like taking hold of the AUX cord to blast Japanese 80s hits in the radion (play Namidawo Misenaide -Boys Don't Cry- by WINK) or buying items just to annoy Majima. His favorite activity is to announce employees birthdays on the store’s microphone before slapping a cake in their faces (Kiryu couldn’t escape it, Nishiki ran for his life). Nishitani succeeded to slap a cake in daigo’s face to everyone’s excitement (covertly or invertly expressed). He is just appointed himself to Mine’s burning anger, not now but one day. Always to take home what they are supposed get rid of (past date item and damaged food products) Mine (CE): Chairman Assistant/Secretary.

Kashiwagi (UP): Inventory Control Specialist. Give this man a break. He is at the clock at 6AM everyday. Mr. Black Coffee. He spends most of his time making calls to suppliers (and often arguing with them) and check the inventory (IF PEOPLE WERE ENTERING THE DATA CORRECTLY SMH.)

Shinida (WC): Grocery clerk, who graduated from his position to become (kinda off) Majima assistant to help with everyday tasks. To take charge when Majima is too tired or angry. If not, they kinda work as duo for Majima’s work load.

  Tachibana (CE): Financial Advisor. He is basically the one over the upper management of the store. If it was not for him being so good at problem-solving and calm regardless of the situation, Daigo will penalize him for how poorly the upper management are doing their job (that’s not on him lol). Always wanted to give Kiryu a promotion so he could join the upper management team and put things back in order.

Baba (WC): shopping cart attendant. Just wants to put his earphones on be left alone.

Hamura, Kuze & Sagawa (UP): Head supervisior, but nobody is sure what is role is since they can’t answer nobody’s questions about anything. More the corporate type, since they send another head supervisor (lower than them) to do all the work (a.k.a answering clients complaints). they spend all their day laughing, chatting and smoking and discussing everything but work-related things. But if there’s financial losses or their quota are not met, you will sure hear one of them raging anger ready to crack the whip on any subordinates. Shimano (CE): Store Manager. He represents the Chairman when he is not there. So he kinda acts like he owns the place (in a way he does owns the building). He is the one watching over a lot of things in the store and especially keeping an eye over the employees. He picks Majima apart and sends Sagawa to scold him about what he is supposedly doing wrong. He is behind most (if not all) employees discharges. Keeps the business afloat. Mirei (UP): HR Yakuza 7/Like A Dragon

Ichiban (WC): Started as a custodian but (after Jo’s training) was upgraded to stock clerk for general merchandise and non-perishable food items. They are always calling him to go check prices and exchange articles since he is so fast and his store clerk colleagues are nowhere to be found.

Adachi (upper working class): Butcher Nanba: (upper working class) Works in the pharmacy.

Han Joongi (WC): Food Preparation: Bread.

Zhao (WC): Food Preparation: Pastry/bakery. Decorates the cakes and makes pastries sold in the grocery store. Saeko (WC): Beauty & Health Department Staff. Masato Arakawa/Ryo Aoki & Kume (C): KAREN Jo Sawashiro (UP): Hourly Supervisor & Training. Technically has the same job as Nishitani but he doesn’t even want to associate with this brown hair clown. But recently he has been upgraded to pay management and was more than willing to cut Ichiban’s pay off when he accidently spilled his coffee on him. (Chill, Jo! Is it even legal?!? Apparently, it is…) Taka The Striker (WC): Auto Care Center Main Manager Yumeno (C): Karen Reina (WC): Cashier Hamako (WC): Senior Cashier

Judgement/Lost Judgement/Judge Eyes

Yagami and Sugiura (C): they came only to buy a bag of chips and move on with their life but they are stuck waiting to checkout and it takes forever. For some reason, everyone that day filled their cart to feed the entire population of china.

Minami, Akutsu, Kaito (WC): Stock Clerk who is always late (or don’t even come) when someone call his department. Spends most his time chatting and smoking. Get to work when the boss or supervisor is near.

Tsukumo (WC): Data Entry Clerk

Higashi (WC): Electronic Department Staff

Mafuyu (WC): Beauty & Health Department Staff

  Saori-San (WC): Cashier that covertly hate her job

Awabe (WC): Overnight Stock Clerk

Kengo (WC): shopping cart attendant

Sawa-Sensei (WC): Cashier

Kazuki Soma (CE): Investor. While nobody really knows where he stands or where his interested for the company comes. Rumors says he is an old supervisor but nobody ready really knows. Gets along well with Shimano and was able to conclude all types of deals with him like in exchange of generous “donations’” they could redirect some of the employees to work in his company. Some believe, him and Shimano use the grocery store for money laundering.

[daincrediblegg]

oh no I've had the wretched thought of a the terror mystic messenger au help

character ai this character ai that. you will never be mystic messenger. cope and seethe

[jae-bummer]

The Stranger in 43B

Prompt: You move in next door and he tries his hardest to be a good neighbor while you try your hardest to be left alone.

Pairing: Ateez Park Seonghwa x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Song rec while you're reading: Close - Han

.

Putting your hands on your hips, you let out a sigh as you assessed the sight in front of you. Boxes upon boxes in leaning and teetering stacks were balanced haphazardly around the living area, all of them threatening to come down in an expensive game of dominoes at any moment.

You never realized just how much crap you owned until you moved.

"Hello?" a gentle voice called from your entryway.

Nearly tumbling into the stack of boxes closest to you, you spun in surprise. With your hands full as you came in, you forgot to kick the door closed behind you as you had done most of the morning.

"Uh..." you trailed, looking down the hall and into the face of someone you had never met.

Admittedly, he was handsome...but still, stranger danger.

"Neighbor," he smiled in explanation. Moving to take a step in, he stopped himself. His cheeks instantly began to blush pink. "May I?"

Anywhere you had lived, you had made a point to make yourself as small and insignificant as possible. You didn't want to rely on any of your neighbors for anything, and more importantly, you didn't want to be relied on. It was easier to be a lone wolf. Having to care for yourself and yourself alone was difficult enough in this modern hellscape.

You stared at him, unblinking. "Sure?"

So much for your survival instincts.

Smiling to himself, he gave a short nod before stepping just inside of your entryway. He lifted a plate into the air. "I heard we had a new neighbor moving in down the hall, so I made muffins."

"I'm allergic to blueberries," you blurted, trying not to wince at how loud the declaration came out.

He narrowed his eyes. "Good thing they're chocolate chip."

"Right," you laughed nervously, still making no move to come closer. "You really didn't have to go to the trouble."

"It was no trouble at all," he insisted. Was it just your imagination or did you see his smile become tighter? "I have housemates, so they're always eager for me to bake something and-"

"Oh, if you have roommates, you don't have to waste any food on me," you nodded. "Thank you though!"

"I'm Seonghwa," the stranger said, you assumed trying a different tactic for conversation. Honestly, you never really understood people who insisted on being friendly.

"Y/N," you nodded shortly, letting the conversation lapse into something awkward. Maybe if he felt uncomfortable he would leave.

No such luck.

"Do you need any help with boxes?" he asked, looking around the room with wide eyes. "No one should have to move by themselves."

"I work best alone," you said cheerfully, hoping he'd pick up on the hint.

"Oh," he hummed, pursing his lips. Sweeping one last gaze across your apartment, he let out a sigh. "I'll just set these on the counter then?"

"Really, you don't-"

"Please," he snapped before catching himself and letting his face fall into a serene smile again. "I insist."

"Counter is fine," you chirped, trying not to feel as if you were just chastised by a parent. "Thank you."

"No thanks needed," he affirmed, stepping gingerly between boxes and packing materials to get to the kitchen. Placing the plate on the counter, he turned back to face you. "Just return the plate whenever you have the chance."

As you were opening your mouth to tell him he could take the plate before he left, he was already giving a small wave and backtracking out of your apartment. "It was nice meeting you, Y/N. If you need anything, I'm just down the hall! Apartment 43B."

"Right," you croaked, watching him disappear around the corner into the hallway.

And that was how your relationship with Park Seonghwa of Apartment 43B began; awkwardly and against your will.

The day after he had broken into your apartment (been invited in) to poison you (give you muffins that were admittedly delicious), you waited until it was 2 AM the following day to covertly stalk down the hall and abandon the plate. You placed it in a shopping bag (you weren't going to leave someone else's dinnerware on the ground) and tiptoed toward his door.

Looking down at his welcome mat, you hissed out a laugh. Decorated in floral patterns, it noted in sprawling script "Bless Our Nest." You didn't even know him and somehow that was so on brand.

Depositing the bag in front of his door, you must have looked like a fool as you attempted to run quietly back toward your apartment. No one looked cool when they were trying to be sneaky, no matter how the spy movies made it seem.

"Y/N?"

Your shoulders scrunched up to your ears as you spun slowly toward the sound of Seonghwa's voice. "Why are you awake?"

He lifted his brows in amusement at your curt response. Waving his hand in the air, you saw he was holding a Nintendo Switch. "New Animal Crossing expansion dropped at midnight."

"How did you hear me?"

Crossing his arms, he leaned against the door frame. He eyed you up and down carefully. "I have a camera doorbell."

Glancing directly to the left of his elbow, you tried not to swear. He sure as shit did. You crossed your arms as well, trying to hide yourself from his appraising gaze.

"Why'd you come to the door then?" you managed, unsure of where to take this conversation.

"And miss this exciting game of twenty questions?" he grinned. "I'm not going to leave a Williams Sonoma plate for someone to steal."

You sighed, of course he owned expensive flatware.

"I didn't kno-"

"Of course you didn't," he grinned, lifting the bag from the ground. "I'm teasing you, Y/N."

You opened your mouth, unsure of what to say. It had been quite awhile since someone had bothered to banter with you.

"Why are you awake?" he countered, cocking a brow.

"Unpacking," you said quietly. You weren't going to admit that you had also been waiting for the Animal Crossing expansion.

"Thanks for bringing back my plate," he managed, biting his lip as he held your gaze a little too long. "I'm going to get back to it though."

"Right," you nodded. "Sorry for-"

"Goodnight, Y/N," he smiled genuinely, cutting off any apology.

Shutting the door softly between the two of you, you shook your head.

"Goodnight."

.

Of course that wouldn't be the last time you saw him. Against your best efforts, he became one of the constants in your routine. Whether it was fate or organized by his own design, you were constantly bumping into each other around your apartment building. Trash drop off? Seonghwa. Going to grab your mail? Seonghwa. Hopping in the elevator? Seonghwa.

Needless to say, you shouldn't have been surprised when a few weeks later, you heard a light knock on your door.

"Do you need any candles?" he asked, appearing in the doorway.

You furrowed your brows as you took him in. Already wearing pajamas at 8 PM (albeit a very expensive looking silk set) his arms were full to the brim with what appeared to be Yankee Candles. By all accounts, he was adorable, and you hated it.

"They're all the same scent," he attested. "So if you have more than one going at once, you won't get a headache."

"Seonghwa-" you began, completely confused by his appearance until another roll of thunder shook the complex and the lights above you began to flicker.

"I probably should have led with this," he chuckled. "But the power likes to go out at the smallest weather event."

Looking toward the ceiling, you grimaced. While you didn't mind bad weather, you did mind the power going out. Sure, you were an independent adult who could navigate the world alone, but as soon as the lights went out, you were on edge. It wasn't necessarily the dark that scared you, but the things in it that you couldn't see.

"I have lanterns somewhere..." you muttered, walking further into your apartment. You racked your brain, trying to remember which box you had packed them in. While you had most of your day to day items unpacked, there were still quite a few boxes waiting to be opened.

"I brought my lighter too in case you didn't have one," Seonghwa insisted, following you into the living area. He began to set the candles down on the makeshift coffee table you had created out of cardboard. "Let's get these lit before the-"

As if summoning it with his words, all noise halted around you as the power shuttered off.

"Lights go out."

"Shit," you whispered, standing as still as possible in the blackness that threatened to suffocate you.

With a light pop, the space was illuminated in a dull glow as Seonghwa's lighter flared to life.

"Thank god," you nearly cried as you watched him lean down to light the candles. For once, you could confidently say that you were thankful for your overly helpful neighbor.

"Hwa to the rescue!" he chimed, attempting to light the first candle, but the wick refused to catch. "Now why..."

You watched in horror as the lighter flickered out. As Seonghwa pressed the button again, it only clicked. "Oh, come on."

"Shit," you whispered into the darkness again. "Shit, shit, shit."

"No worry," he said confidently. "I'm sure it won't be out for long."

Feeling as if you were a piece of ice that had begun to melt, you slid toward the floor with a plop. "Shit."

You closed your eyes tightly, convinced that the blackness that hid behind your lids was safer than anything this apartment could provide.

"Y/N?" Seonghwa's gentle voice filled the silence, noting the obvious shift in atmosphere.

"Yep," you hissed. Your eyes were screwed shut, only cognizant of his movements by the noise of him shuffling around you. "I'm good."

"Are you sure?" he asked, this time much closer. You couldn't confirm, but it felt like he was crouched down in front of you. "You don't sound okay."

"I'm fine," you gritted out. "You can head back over to your place."

Even though the idea of being alone right now was terrifying, you didn't know if you were prepared for the level of vulnerability it took to show Seonghwa this part of you. That's why it was easier to push people away.

The pace of your breathing sped up, your body completely ignoring every therapist you had ever worked with. How could the room spin when your eyes weren't open?

"Hey, hey, hey, hey," Seonghwa cooed, pulling you into his arms without a second thought. "It's going to be okay."

Panicked breaths shuttered out of you as you allowed him to tuck you tightly into his chest.

"Crap, is this alright? I didn't ask permission to touch you, but also-"

You quickly nodded your head. "F-f-fine."

"Okay," he said, voice still calm. He began to run his hands over your hair, his fingers smoothing through the strands methodically. "Just breathe, Y/N. You're safe. I won't let anything happen to you."

You knew he wouldn't. While you had forced yourself to be annoyed at his mere presence, Seonghwa had done nothing but be there for you from the beginning.

"Let's breathe together, okay? Can you do that with me?"

You remained silent, already trying to focus on his breathing cadence.

"Good, you're doing so good," he hummed. "Are your eyes open, Y/N?"

"No," you choked out.

"Open your eyes," he whispered. "I've got you. Let them adjust to the dark. It's not so scary once you can kind of see what's going on."

You thought about arguing, but he hadn't steered you wrong yet. Your eyes fluttered open and you instantly began to breath easier. He was right. There was a slight glow coming from under the door, no doubt the apartment's emergency lights flared to life in the hallway. The windows also provided a bit of light on their own, the moon bright despite the clouds passing by.

"See," he cooed. "This isn't so bad."

You hadn't realized that you were white knuckling the fabric of his top and slowly released the smooth material. Setting your palm against his chest instead, it was more obvious when his own heartbeat sped up.

You thought back to every time you had bumped into your neighbor, every kindness he showed you just for you to push him away. What were you afraid of?

Leaning slightly away from Seonghwa, you tried to make out the outline of his face. it was easy to see his features this close, even cloaked in night.

It might have been the oxygen you had been depriving your brain, but it seemed like a great idea to kiss him.

"Hwa," you managed, your voice barely above a whisper.

His tongue skirted across his bottom lip, almost like an invitation.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you pressed your lips lightly against his, barely a ghost of a kiss. Just as you began to pull away, you felt his mouth chase after yours. Another kiss, this one soft and sweet before he broke contact.

Maybe your fear was confusing itself for sexy feelings, but either way, mortification flooded in where butterflies had once been.

"Y/N?" he said quietly, his eyes searching your face. Even in the dark, they were so big and bright. His own expression was one of wonder.

"Sorry...was that...I didn't-" you stumbled over your words. He had been so conscious of asking for your permission to touch you earlier, and here you were, just thrusting your lips into his.

A small smile fought it's way onto his mouth. "I just wanted to make sure it was something you wanted...I don't want to take advantage-"

"No, I thought I was the one taking advantage-"

"No!" he laughed. "I'm not the one coming down from a panic attack."

"I thought...maybe I mistook your kindness and..."

"I think we're both fine then," he hummed, snuggling you in closer. "You know...you...you could do that again...maybe."

"Oh...I could?" you whispered, letting the amusement take place of the fear.

"Mhm," he hummed, his face coming even closer to yours. "It'll keep your mind busy until the power comes back on."

"You're such a thoughtful neighbor," you whispered.

"Dare you say...your favorite neighbor?"

"I dunno," you hummed. "Mrs. Huang in 41B is pretty high on my list."

"I bake waaaay better than Mrs. Huang," he grumbled, his lips still painfully close but still not on yours.

You pretended to think. "I suppose you're my favorite neighbor, but only by a little bit."

Lifting his hand to cup your cheek, he grinned. "Let me close the gap then."

[eowynstwin]

Blackbird, Fly - Four

Cowboy Gaz x mail order bride—only, not his. After exchanging letters for half a year with ranching man Hans König, you finally travel out west to marry him. - Gaz had been the only one to try and warn you. - ao3

previous

When you wake the next morning, Hans’ side of the bed is empty, the linens already cold.

As sleep leaves you in fits and starts, the aches pull you inward—glowing dull and orange like banked embers. Your whole body feels like a twisted ankle. Nothing is broken, exactly, but every muscle feels as if it’s been pulled in a direction God never quite intended it to move.

Your shoulders. The meat of your thighs. Your hips.

The entrance to your womb.

It isn’t the knife-sharp pain from before. Only the muted, persistent throb of a wound left alone to heal. In the cottony space between sleep and waking, you think there should be more damage—for all of what happened last night. And yet, there isn’t.

Still, you don’t move when your eyes finally open. Stillness seems the only defense against the bare truth of the gray morning.

Your husband used you hard on your wedding night, and did not care for the pain he caused.

You are not fool enough to think your experience unique. Women talked as much as girls did. Your mother’s friends were wont to complain when they thought the children out of earshot: husbands who grunted and sweated over them in the night, often without uttering a word. Sometimes not even waiting for the pain of childbirth to subside before claiming their marital due.

You just had come to believe, with every letter that arrived, that your fate would be different.

But it turns out none of this is a dream after all.

Your throat closes, then. Tears prick hot in the corners of your eyes.

Stupid, stupid girl.

You swallow hard. Sit up away from the pillows, even as the aches flare in protest.

Beside you, where your husband slept, there’s a noticeable dip in the mattress. Worn in over years of slumber, and you, you suppose, on Anna’s side of the bed.

Was Hans kind to her too, before?

Abruptly you swing your legs out from the linens, and go to find one of the dresses you brought along from home.

The house is empty when you descend the stairs, as far as you can tell. You hear the steady tick, tock of a grandfather clock somewhere in the sitting room that you hadn’t noticed yesterday, in all of the commotion of the wedding preparations. The floorboards creak beneath your feet as your grumbling stomach leads you along to the kitchen.

The space is as modern and well-appointed as the rest of the house, and bigger than any kitchen you ever imagined needed to be. A cast-iron wood stove with four burners and a large oven, a sink with a pump right there by the basin, and—you nearly stop dead at the luxury—an ice box, right there beside one long counter.

You momentarily forget the troubles of the night, crouching beside the little box in fascination. A cloud of cool fog descends when you swing open the door; you brush the tips of your fingers across the huge block of ice on the top shelf, jerking them away when the cold unexpectedly burns. Not once in your life have you ever seen so much ice in one place.

On the lower shelf, you find cuts of pork and beef, wrapped in brown butcher’s paper and tied with string. Bacon for breakfast, then, and biscuits if you can find flour. Your mother always said that a difficult thing was easier after having a meal.

You find the larder stocked with further luxury. Nowhere are the home-jarred goods that would populate your family’s pantry, garden-grown vegetables pickled in vinegar or hand-pressed jams fresh from the blackberry bushes along the road. Instead you find rows and rows of cans, factory-sealed tins of manufactured uniformity, colorfully labeled and containing everything you might have ever thought to grow yourself and more.

Beans of every variety. Corn. Carrots. Peas. Beets. Tomatoes.

How much must all this have cost? So many, and lined up deep into the back of the larder. You and Hans couldn’t possible eat them all before some of them began to spoil. Of course, if he could afford to buy so much, maybe that didn’t matter.

You find the flour, and baking powder as well. Breakfast is a quick affair after that, and thankfully so, as your stomach really begins to complain as soon as the food is ready.

There’s a small table in the kitchen—yet more luxury, you think, remembering the long dining table you saw yesterday—and it’s there you sit down to solve your hunger.

The hard wooden chair is not kind to the ache between your legs.

You bite into the bacon, crunching it to pieces. There—it’s all right. You have your breakfast. Isn’t that something to be grateful for? Breakfast, and a nice stove, and an ice box, and a kitchen so stuffed with food that you can’t imagine ever running out.

Isn’t this what a loving husband provides? A good home, for his wife to live comfortably in? Pretty dresses, like the one he gave to you last night? A nice ring on your finger—the little gem glittering in the sunlight streaming in through the kitchen window?

Hans loves you. Of course. This is love.

You bite into one biscuit, hot and steaming from the pan and burning your tongue. Your mother can make them better, but you tried the best you could to follow the recipe she taught you.

The front door opens outside of the kitchen. Something quick and sharp travels up your spine. Heavy boots step inside—your husband, come looking for you—you freeze without realizing it, holding half-chewed food in your mouth—

“Mrs. König?” calls Kate Laswell, the foreman, and you relax.

“In here,” you call, after swallowing.

Laswell enters the kitchen, and turns to you, at the table. She’s dressed in mens’ clothes, dusty trousers and a heavy jacket over a button-up shirt, and a wide-brimmed hat still on her head. She looks like she’s dressed to travel.

“I’m afraid I can’t show you the accounts today, like I said I would,” she tells you, no preamble, no pleasantries.

You remember then your brief conversation with her the previous night—and Hans’ disapproval at the idea.

You set down your biscuit. “Good morning, Miss Laswell. Why not?”

“I’m going over to visit the Vargas place. We’ve been working on a leasing deal. I’ll explain when I get back.”

“Of course,” you say. “Would—” you clear your throat, embarrassed— “Would you know where my husband might be?”

The lines of Laswell’s face tighten. She has a severe look to her that you think is always present—ranch work must harden anyone, man or woman—but there is no wedding happening around you now to distract you from the unmistakable displeasure on her face.

“Last I saw he was out with the herd,” she says shortly. “Anyway, I’ll be gone for a few days. The ledger is in the cabinet by the desk. Take a look at it if you find the time.”

She tips her hat to you before you can figure out how to respond—some part of you bristles at being given orders by someone who is now, ostensibly, your employee—and leaves the kitchen. You scramble to follow her, and catch her when she’s nearly out the door.

“Miss Laswell,” you call, “is Hans—is my husband—”

You’re not very sure what you intended to ask her, before you began the question. Nor, you realize, do you think she could answer honestly, if you asked her what you really wanted to know. It wouldn’t be her place, and it would be inappropriate of you to ask.

If you could actually work up the courage to approach it.

So you settle for, “Is my husband angry with me?”

She stops, and blinks at you. You see her look you up and down, briefly, but when she meets your eyes her expression is impossible to read.

“I have no idea,” she says, and her tone betrays nothing. “Gaz wants to see you in the stables when you have a moment today. Ma’am.”

She nods farewell at you and leaves.

The steady ticking of the grandfather clock punctuates the end of the odd exchange. Disoriented, you return to the kitchen to clear away the remnants of your breakfast, flushing in confusion.

Do you really want this?

His question rings now in your ears. Along with it come memories of the previous night. The Madame’s odd interest in you. The store owner Miss Boucher’s sidelong glance at Hans. Myriad other quirks of the brow or mouth that you only now grasp the meaning of.

Everyone knew, somehow, what was coming. Everyone except you.

And Gaz had been the only one to try and warn you.

You tug on a shawl as you step out onto the front porch, breathing in the mountain air. The morning chill hasn’t yet burned off, and the sky has yet to gain its full color. Across the clearing, Kyle Garrick is at work in the stable’s corral.

He holds one end of a long lead, attached at the other to the bridle of a red-brown horse, which trots in a wide circle around him. Occasionally, with the lunge-whip he holds in his free hand, Gaz taps the horse’s hindquarters, redirecting it patiently whenever it tries to move inward or otherwise deviate from its orbit.

Horses are scared creatures, Miss, I don’t know if you know this, Hans had written. You must be gentle when you train them, or destine them to a lifetime of anxiety.

When you approach, the horse’s attention briefly turns toward you, but Gaz taps it again and it goes back into its pacing. You have a moment to admire the long line of the cowboy’s body, the focused angles of his shoulders and hips, before he addresses you, sensing your presence without having to turn and look at you.

“Good morning, miss,” he says. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes, thank you,” you say. It feels dishonest, even if it isn’t a lie. “Good morning, Mr. Garrick.”

The horse makes its way past you, and then Gaz brings it to a stop. He winds up the lead in one hand and makes his way over to you, meeting you where you stand by the corral fence.

You can’t help but notice how handsome he looks in the light of late morning. The serious expression on his face is the same one he’d worn the day before; you suspect it’s his natural disposition.

You remember the brief smile he’d shown you last night, before Hans had taken you away, and your cheeks warm despite yourself.

“I thought I might introduce you to the horses today,” he says. “If you’ve got the time, that is.”

“Oh,” you gasp, suddenly eager, “Please! I’ve been looking forward to it ever since Hans proposed! I told him about the two old nags we had on our farm, to pull our wagon, and he said—”

We must get you on a proper horse, then, to show you the true pleasure riding may offer.

You stop mid-sentence. Something about what Hans had written rings in your memory now with a different note. It seems…mocking, almost. Imbued purposefully with a meaning intended to escape you, given you had not the experience enough to catch it.

Shame blooms painfully behind your breastbone.

“…He mentioned he’d bring me to meet them,” you say lamely.

The smile Gaz gives you doesn’t reach his eyes. “He’s very busy, or I suppose he would be today.”

“I suppose,” you echo.

Gaz inhales deeply, and then he gestures to the red-brown horse. “Well—this here is Newt. I’ve been getting him used to the bridle today.”

“Hello, Newt,” you say to the horse. You reach a hand out, briefly, but then pull it back; your instinct is to let the horse get your scent, like you might with a farm dog, but you don’t know if you should. Your father had always handled the nags.

Gaz notices, and brings one big hand to Newt’s long face, squeezing the arch of his muzzle. The horse’s eyes droop in obvious pleasure.

“He’s a big baby,” says Gaz, expression gentling. “I’m trying to see if he’ll make a good cutter, but it’s too early to tell.”

You reach out again. Newt’s velvety nostrils flare as he inhales, and then his hot breath bathes your hand and wrist. You suppose you have his approval, because Newt simply works his teeth a little and makes no indication of displeasure.

“A cutter?”

“Yeah. The kind of horse that can cut a steer out from the herd so you can drive it someplace else,” Gaz explains. “Horses either got cow-sense, or they don’t. Here, come around inside and I’ll show you the rest.”

Long Mask Ranch, Hans had written, built its reputation on the quality of its quarter horses. In the early days of its inception, his father had struck an extremely lucrative deal providing the US Army with its cavalry mounts, which had turned out to be a perfect way for the ranch’s reputation to spread. Even after the army mostly withdrew from the region, every state in the surrounding countryside knew: if you wanted good horses, you went to Long Mask.

“These are the yearlings,” Gaz explains as he leads you through the stable. “Just now we’re getting them trained to follow directions. Won’t be riding ‘em for a couple years yet.”

He puts Newt away and beckons you to follow. In the neighboring stall, one of the horses pokes its head out over the gate. It’s a light-colored colt, yellowish in the body and white-maned.

“This is Gus,” Gaz says, scratching its fuzzy chin. “He’s a big flirt, yeah, aren’t you, boy?”

You also reach out to give Gus a pat, and the colt chuffs and butts his nose into your hand, proving Gaz’s accusation. You can’t help giggling a little.

When another horse across the building snorts, Gaz chuckles, and leads you in the direction of the noise. “Ah, yeah, and that’s Woodrow. Him and Gus are always goin’ at it, but you won’t ever see better friends.”

Woodrow is dark gray horse with a distinctly unamused face. He accepts a pat on the forehead with what you can only describe as resigned patience. Gaz feeds him a sugar cube from one pocket for his trouble.

He takes you further along down the line of stalls. You meet a spirited filly named Elmira, and a colt beside her named July whose love for her is unrequited.

“We’ve already gelded him, so it wouldn’t matter much anyway,” Gaz relates.

He speaks fondly of every horse as you meet them, with the familiarity of long days working beside each of them. It relaxes him, you realize, to speak of them—the hard set of his expression has softened, the serious line of his brows eased from their iron setting.

It makes him look—not younger, you decide, but properly his age. A cowboy just beginning the best years of his career, still hale and fit enough to meet the rough demands of the job, but with enough experience under his belt to confront any challenge with confidence.

Such confidence is obvious in the way he moves. He walks loose and easy through the stable, his every step as assured as the sunrise the next morning. The line of his broad shoulders, the swooping curve of his back—they tell you at a mere glance that home is in this place, working with these creatures, and there could be nothing more Kyle Garrick might long for besides.

Envy twists your intestines around its fingers. There’s an empty space inside of you that you’d been expecting, as your wedding vows had finally taken flight, to fill with that same feeling.

At the end of the stable, in a stall in the back corner, a horse pokes its head out over the gate. It’s bigger than the yearlings, with a pale face and a dark, gray muzzle. It looks right at you, with such a clear focus that it startles you.

“Ah,” says Gaz, when he sees. “Was wondering if she’d notice us.”

“She?”

He nods. “A mare. She’s…difficult.”

The mare stares at you, with deep, night-black eyes.

“What do you mean?” you ask.

Gaz works his lips over his teeth. “Mr. König bought her last year off another rancher who was ‘bout fit to shoot her. She’s a thoroughbred, and she ain’t never met a white man she likes. As like to buck a man off as to let him ride.”

“Oh,” you say.

Gaz leans against the wall between two stalls. “Mr. König thought he might be able to break her. So far she hasn’t gotten him off her, but she won’t let him come near without putting up a fight. I’m the only one can saddle ‘er.”

You frown. “Why would he ride a horse that doesn’t want to be ridden?”

At that, Gaz’s eyes go cold. Shockingly cold, like an empty winter’s night. “Suppose he just likes taking what he wants, I guess.”

You should reprimand him. You know it immediately. It’s no way to talk about his employer, and certainly nothing he should ever say in front of you, his employer’s wife.

But you remember the blood, and still feel the ache. You have to look away from him, ashamed. Embarrassed.

You cannot defend your husband, and he must know it.

“I imagine he must know what he’s about,” you mumble.

Gaz gives a derisive snort. “I don’t know about that. He’s of a mind to start with thoroughbreds, but she will not let him breed her. Damn near killed every stallion he’s brought her to try.”

It hits you so sharply that you inhale with sudden pain, pressure knifing at your eyes. You turn away from Gaz entirely now, pressing your hands to your chest. Every ache from the night previous ricochets around inside you again, knocking all the way down into your bones.

You tip your head upward, as if it will prevent the gathering tears from falling. What’s worse, Gaz puts a hand on your shoulder behind you. You flinch at the touch, hips aching where Hans had bruised them in his grip.

“I’m sorry, Miss,” Gaz says softly. He sounds like he means it. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

He knows exactly what ails you. And why wouldn’t he? He’s known his employer for years. He’s worked this ranch for longer than you’ve even known of its existence.

He knew the previous Mrs. König, who first endured Hans’ attentions.

You are a terrible fool, and you are the last to know it.

He doesn’t remove his hand as you tremble. He squeezes you gently, the same caress he’d given to the young colt Newt. It is so kind that it nearly breaks you.

“Here,” Gaz murmurs, “let’s see something.”

You turn back to him; he takes your hand, and leads you to the back of the stable. The mare follows the two of you with her eyes, expression unchanging as you approach her.

Closer now, she is a stunning creature. You’ve never seen anything like her. Her coat is silvery-gray, with darker patterns all over her body, like ink absorbed into paper and then laid beneath a light rain. Her legs and mane are the same dark color as her muzzle, and there is a deep intelligence in her eyes as she beholds you.

“You might be the first woman she’s ever seen up close,” Gaz says.

He takes up a position behind you, and turns your hand over in his, opening your fingers. Then, slowly, so the horse can see it, he brings them to her face, pressing your fingertips to the soft whorl on her forehead.

The mare’s eyes do not leave you. She exhales a little through relaxed nostrils, chuffing, flicking her ears toward you. You play with the starburst of pale hair, following the direction it grows; her lids, heavy with thick, black lashes, drop a little.

“I’ll be,” Gaz murmurs behind you. “I think she might like you, miss.”

A loud BANG claps against the wall on the other end of the stable, and the mare jerks her head immediately, flinging your hand away. She grunts, snorts, and dances away from the gate, shaking her head, eyes flaring wide.

You and Gaz both look to the commotion—

Your husband stands in the open doorway, cast in a dark silhouette by the late morning light.

“Just what the hell are you doing?”

-

next

a/n: the horses' names are all references to characters in my favorite western, Lonesome Dove by Larry McMurtry.

[izzabela]

I don’t know if anyone has asked this before, but the Lin Kuei trio with a reader who works as a military special forces operator? I don’t know but I’d like to think that on tactical terms the Lin Kuei and a military soldier can work pretty well together so I would definitely want to see how this will play out

When Worlds Collide - Lin Kuei x GN!spec-ops!reader (headcanons?)

in which past meets modern warfare

a/n: bro the fact you requested this and i'm getting into COD is INSANE THE TIMING IS AWESOME

ship[s]: none

warning(s): cod x mortal kombat?? ghost reference? soap ref? gaz & price reference??

You are a spec-ops soldier, working with the most elite soldiers in the world under the guidance of the American military. With the Outworld Investigations Agency opened, they're gonna need some manpower....

Introducing you and TF141, so perhaps this is a mk x cod fic??

- all three of the brothers would be very impressed with your records and awards. you are a decorated member, and the fact you are decently younger compared to your coworkers impresses them further

- Tomas asks you questions. lots of them. where you've been, what you've seen, the kills you have (it surprises you he knows the difference in the terms), he even asks others about you

- Bi Han wants to inspect every piece of modern equipment you have. he asks incredibly well-informed questions about the weapons, he even sketches ones that pique his interest the most so he can show his clan back at home

- Kuai Liang is the lucky brother who gets to hold and try the equipment. you and your team watch over him in the gun range as he shoots down practice targets with ease (ninja precision is crazy)

- Tomas and Soap might get along the best. he'd definitely be thrown off by how vulgar the team gets, but he and Soap are very friendly with one another

- Bi Han, Ghost, and Price. those two would be having a blast together talking about manly adult leadership stuff

- Kuai Liang might get along best with Gaz. Something about these level-headed men having a normal conversation in front of neanderthals is refreshing to you, snd you really appreciate that

- teamwork wise, not including the 141, they'd work pretty good with you. you're a great all around: sniper, foot-soldier, hand-to-hand, you know the drills for the shit they go through on the daily

- specifically, you and Kuai Liang would work together with a knowing silence. something like Price and Ghost since those two knew each other for so long. something about you and Kuai covering each other's asses without saying a word means you guys are in perfect sync. i can imagine it (can't you?)

- working with Bi Han is like Price and Soap, or Ghost and Soap. You definitely would try and liven up the mood as you off enemies left and right. Bi Han might actually scold you mid battle, too, expecially talking about distractions

- Tomas is Gaz, and working with him is like nothing but butter sliding smoothly on bread. Tomas is everything in a package: smart, skilled, quick-witted, and level-headed. Tomas knows when it's the right time to do things

- i think you and Bi Han would get into the worst spats and fights when discussing how to further push into battle. i'd say it gets physical, with you ordering him to stand down as the "professionals handle this"

- Kuai Liang and you could also get into some hefty drama and fights too. i think Kuai would actually apologize too, considering that maybe you might have seen more than him

- outside of the missions, everyone gets along well (maybe). when the three lin kuei bros are out drinking with you and your team, that shit is fire. Tomas probably gets drunk first, but that's after maybe five cups of hard ass liquor

- Kuai is next drunk, then Bi Han

- back to mission stuff, when you and the Lin Kuei trio aren't fighting, you guys agree on strategy rather easily. in fact, they like how you pull your strats. Bi Han takes mental notes to implement to the clan

- yeah, that's it

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

guys i want to write a COD fic soon, but idk who to start with. after my reqs though

also, school started for me, so writing may be coming slower

see yall in the next fic!

[harrisonbrainrot]

What aboutt modern han and cooking with him or baking (which ever u prefer) and like messing around with s/o like a kitchen date?

Or maybe han coming into the house after working in the garage all day to see s/o cooking in the kitchen with a cute little apron

With Han things can be incredibly sweet. He loves watching you cook. He didn't have a very solid upbringing so seeing someone make him food makes him feel good. Taken care of and loved. He'll help how he can but you typically shoo him out.

"Han, scoot. Get out of the kitchen."

"I'm trying to help-"

"Yeah, you also worked hard all day to take care of this house. So, get out and let me feed you."

"Yes, ma'am.." And with that, he drops himself at the dining room table, watching you closely. He watches you move around the kitchen, preparing and cooking. However, it gets to be a bit much. He sits and stares like he needs a job, he needs to keep his hands busy. Which is true, he requires that immensely. Instead of pushing him away from the kitchen more, you bait him with a task.

"What're we watching with dinner?" You'd ask, softly, sweetly, playing innocent. He's just staring, those damn hazel eyes never leaving yours. He runs his fingersover the woodgrain of the table, smirking.

"I could watch you cook all night, baby."

"Han." It's a mild warning, nothing serious. In all honesty, it's nice hearing the validation of him finding you attractive. He spends most of his free time with you just admiring you and enjoying what he can see. "I meant on the TV."

"I know, babe. I guess we can watch whatever."

"How about we put on Top Gear?" His eyes twinkle at the suggestion. He enjoyed the show, it was good for laughs. He stood and stepped behind you, his chin on our shoulder. He hummed as his hands found our hips. He peppered your neck with soft kisses, brushing his scruff against the side of your neck enjoying the goosebumps that cropped up in response. You'd sigh, tilting your head to rest on his the best you could. His arms snaked around your waist, pulling you flush to him. Distracting him this time was proving futile. His little kisses became soft bites as he pressed himself against your ass. "Han.. What're you doing?"

"Can't I enjoy the cooking show?" He grinned against our skin, knowing all too well what he was doing. His rough finger tips slipping under your shirt, gripping you a bit harder. He laid a lingering kiss on the side of your head with a smile. He enjoyed these soft, quiet moments. These moments defined you being his, his to love and hold. He cherished you, completely. If this is how he waned to unwind after work, who were you to deny him? He'd never experienced lovelike this before.

"I suppose I'll allow it."

"Thanks, babygirl."

That's how dinner would be made, more often than not. Chewie would pad into the kitchen, lounging next to the stove, completely out of the way. He as content to watch his people be in love and happy. Han would sneak him some of the cooking food, which Chewie would gladly eat. Soon, you'd all move to the living room. Han would have a beer with his food and finish it in record time. His plate set on the floor for Chewie to lick clean. Han would rest his boots on the table, his arm slung over our shoulders. "Thanks for dinner. Delicious as always, baby." He'd kiss your temple, then your cheek, before stealing a kiss from your lips.

[bakugoushotwife]

kinktober day eight: overstimulation kink

>>> gojo x pussydrunk is so real and canon don't try to convince me otherwise. also, everyone clap and shower me in praise, i wrote a gojo smut w/o a daddy kink!!!!!

>>> starring: satoru gojo x curvy!fem!reader >>> cw: overstim pls, fingering (fem receiving), oral (fem receiving), creampie, mating press, petnames, slight size kink? >>>wc: 2.3k >>> event masterlist

satoru gojo is a lot of things. the world’s strongest sorcerer, yes. renowned six eyes user after hundreds of years, yes. absolutely insufferable to most of his loved ones, another yes. he’s also undeniably and insatiably obsessed with you. you’re his person, the one designed to understand, support, and love him, you’re the one thing about him that makes everything else seem irrelevant by comparison. so it’s no surprise when he puts you on a pedestal, worshiping you as if you were the honored one. in a way, you are. you’re the one hand-crafted just for him, that at least made you the chosen one, no? and he certainly chose to spend all his free time with you, despairing every second away from home. you consumed nearly every thought of his even this far into your relationship, and all of his money was spent on or for you. oh how the mighty have fallen, the most powerful man of the modern era absolutely wrapped tight around your little finger. he’s whipped, and absolutely proud of it. your love looks good on him, and he’s honored in more ways than one. 

which must explain why he’s been so miserable for the past few days. he hadn’t left your side for longer than a night’s rest since he met you because satoru gojo also is the definition of a stage four clinger. this mission had drained him of joy, running around wrestling grade one curses with his kids was nowhere near as fun as laying in your arms or pinning those arms to your sides to keep you from pushing him away as he lapped away at you…sigh. he couldn’t wait to be home. his imagination wasn’t doing it for him anyways.

not even his teleportation abilities got him to his house quick enough. he sighs contently at the comforting smell of his living room, some fancy vanilla and lavender air plug-in thing you insisted he needed. he can sense you immediately, seemingly asleep. it was rather late at night, but he still feels his heart sink a little in disappointment. but as he silently makes his way down the hall, he can hear little sniffles and ragged breaths. you were crying, he realizes. 

“don’t tell me you’re crying because you miss me?” he pouts from the doorway, the sound of his voice ceasing your little sobs. he’s grinning at you, one of his award winning ones where his eyes sparkle like a clear pool on a summer day and his nose crinkles up so adorably and everything. you rub at your eyes just to make sure he’s really back, and then you throw a pillow at him for the comment. 

“course i was, you ass. it’s almost been a week!!” you whine, and he’s abusing his powers again to pull you into his chest, suddenly laying beside you in the bed—the pillow plopping against the floor. he adorns that same grin, large hands pawing away your tears. 

“i’m flattered, really, but my girl’s got no reason to cry. you know nothing could keep me from coming home to you.” he muses, kissing your forehead. your hands close around his wrists as you give him a weak smile of approval. 

“i know–but you weren’t answering any of my texts and it was only supposed to be a three day mission.” you reason with a sniffle, burying your face in his chest so you can squeeze him tighter. he sighs with a little wave of guilt knocking into him at your words. he should have made time to at least let you know he was alright. 

he sighs at his mistake. “my bad princess!” one of his hands rests on the back of your head, the other in the dip of your waist. “i was absolutely miserable without you though, i was too distracted trying to finish so i could get home.” he pouts, still smiling brightly at you as he slides his hand lower to your hip. you huff in response. then you throw a punch to his chest lightly after you lean back from the hug, abusing your own knowledge of infinity being off in your presence to your advantage. 

“that’s for making me worry!” you pout, still sniffling a little bit. He frowns, ducking down to kiss the tip of your nose. he uses his grip on your face to steer your gaze up to him, and then he kisses the corner of your mouth. 

“oh–i can’t have that.” his thumbs move back and forth over your cheekbones. “let me make it up to you?” he croons, easing his hand to your ass to squeeze on your mound, a sly smirk replacing the sweet grin he’d worn previously. you gasp a little, especially after he gives your ass a light little smack. “i did miss you terribly, after all.” 

it’s almost embarrassing how easy it is to rile you up. but you’ve missed him too, you hadn’t been without him for longer than a day or two, so the six it’s been was borderline torture for a couple as addicted to each other as you two are. you spread your hands out across his shoulders, feeling the dips and swells of his chest and collarbones beneath your fingers. you nod, his hand hard at work kneading the fat of your backside. “be my guest.” 

he grins, giving you a proper kiss. his lips are warm and sweet tasting as always and he wastes no time moving his hands up under your shirt to remove it, chuckling when you yank on his shirt with haste. it’s clear you missed him just as bad, and he can’t deny his little love. he leans back for enough separation to peel his top off, humming happily when you’re smashing your boobs up against him in another tight hug and smothering kiss. the way your body feels against his is intoxicating, and he can’t help but relish the warmth your soft and supple skin provides. his hand quickly snakes between you, locating your throbbing need easily. it’s muscle memory with as many times as he’s done this, your lips wrestling for dominance as his fingers swipe over your panty-clad bundle. you always whine so prettily into his mouth, your hips seemingly moving with a mind of their own every time he touches you. he smiles against your mouth, feeling his own cock pulse with excitement at the cute noises you make. 

the way the fabric of your panties presses against you makes your whines turn into moans, the pleasure starting to mount in your gut. satoru loves this, the slutty pajamas you sleep in of just his shirt and a pair of panties only making everything easier. he has the best seat in the house to you wiggling against the pillows, soft moans spilling from your lips as your little hand tries to add to your pleasure by pinching at your chest. it doesn’t take long at all before you’re grasping at his wrist to keep his hand still, spilling over the edge with nothing but his fingers and the occasional sloppy kiss to your face and neck. 

but he’s missed you, he couldn’t dare stop there. he slides down your body, giving your nipple a quick lick on his way to settle in between your legs. he smiles at the sight greeting him, the cute little wet patch soaking through your undies that was growing darker by the second. he presses his nose against the spot, taking in a deep sniff and sighing it out happily. “god i missed ya so bad, sweetness. you know i gotta taste, i almost forgot what it’s like..” 

you giggle as he loops his fingers in the waistline and peels the wet fabric down your legs, discarding them in a forgotten pile. you spread your legs for him easily, watching his tired eyes hum with vibrance and excitement as he looks at your sopping core. he’s on you in a matter of seconds, his hot tongue spooning out your release for him to drink up. it has your back arching off the bed instantly, the long muscle caressing your insides for his own pleasure just as much as your own. he moves so fast and so sloppy as he moans at your flavor, moving up to suckle on your clit, his teeth gnashing over the bundle without care. he knows your inner workings inside and out, able to work you up and over the edge as quickly or slowly as he willed it. you know better than anyone that that ability paired with his normal insatiability meant you were in for a long night. 

“oh sh–shit baby.” you whine, feeling that delicious burn of pleasure mount in your gut. your eyes drift closed as your fingers snatch handfuls of his white tresses in an effort to ground yourself. he just chuckles, rapidly flicking his tongue over your clit, purposefully trying to drive you to the edge as many times as he could tonight just to prove to you that he couldn’t get his mind off you for one second while he was away. even as dangerous as the stakes of the mission were, he couldn’t bring himself out of his daydream of going back home to your waiting embrace and spending the rest of the day doing exactly this—watching your pretty eyes roll back into your head as your legs shake around his face. 

every suck and lick is calculated expertly, you couldn’t hold back any longer. you whine softly, tugging on his silky hair as you coat his mouth and chin with your juices. you know better though, he won’t stop here. he only proves you right, lapping at your fluids once more before sticking his fingers in the fluttering hole and returning to suck at the apex of your thighs. you shake your head, too wound up from your last orgasm to handle the harsh way his mouth moves over you or the speed of his fingers curling inside. you squeal and kick your legs, trying with all your feeble might to escape him. he knows if you really needed to stop you would give him the special code word you instilled at the beginning of your relationship, so he doesn’t hold back in his relentless finger fucking, letting his teeth bite at your need in a way that had your toes curling and legs jerking before you even came again. you’re whining and panting, and he thinks you’ve never looked better than this, an absolute mess just for him; letting him have his way with you just to prove you missed him too. it makes him so proud. you can feel that pleasurable burn again, mixed with something foreign. it was almost like you had swallowed a bunch of rocks, and you could only gasp out to communicate that this time was going to be different. he felt your thighs tighten under his grip, a clear cut sign that you were close yet again. he giggled to himself, putting his work into overdrive to get you there for the third time in under fifteen minutes. 

you pull his hair way harder than he’s experienced at your hand before—not that he’s complaining, and then you spray liquid all over his face and chest. he’s gawking up at you as he watches the streams, sitting up to avoid it hitting him in the eyes. he’s grinning like a madman though, easy circles over your clit to soothe you through it while his other hand tracks down his shirt. 

“oh my god?? my pretty girl just squirted for me.” he giggles, wiping his face and upper body clean. your eyes are drooping, but you’re returning his grin. he leans over to kiss you, rewarding you for the performance. “so hot. wanted you in doggy, but my poor girl wouldn’t be able to hold herself up.” he teases, shoving your legs to bend up by your chest. 

he slips in so easily he’s fighting not to bust immediately. you swallow up his length so gorgeously, his head falls back and he moans. you feel so good, still so tight and gripping but obviously soaked to the bone. you’ve made such a mess on the bed the two of you may have to sleep in the guest bedroom but he doesn’t care. he’s determined to fuck a fourth one out of you even if it takes all night. your nails dig into his forearms with his first thrust. everything is so sensitive, you can feel every vein and ridge along his shaft as the tip bumps along your womb. 

“fuck–so good, angel. missed you so bad, can’t ya tell?” he giggles, drawing your legs to wrap around his waist. he keeps ramming his length in, a rhythmic snap of his hips against yours and his balls following close behind and your open-mouthed pants filling the room. you can’t respond and he knows that, but he still talks to you anyway, enjoying the way your brows scrunch in frustration at him. your fingers dig and claw at him, with your pussy spasming so rapidly he wonders if it’s normal. 

this time, it nearly hurts to cum. your eyes squeeze shut and you grip him so tightly he can’t move, that fact alone enough to have him painting ribbons of white against your insides with a guttural moan. he squeezes your hips, his chest and face red from all the hard work and forehead sheening with sweat. satoru leans down to give you a sweet kiss, suffocating the sounds of recovery from you both. you can feel him grinning, and you want to get onto him for being so cocky, but you don’t have the energy. he’s already on it though, taking advantage of your hazy in-and-out state to get you cleaned up and tucked back under the sheets, complete with a bottle of water on the nightstand and all. 

“so happy to be home, princess.” he says, long arms closing around your waist and hard chest caressing your back. 

[000-pawz]

" fantasy romance tropes " bnd series masterlist °｡⋆⸜ 🪽♡🪄

coming soon!

a/n: i was listening to dawn in the adan by ichiko aoba and got inspired to start a series! i barely see any fantasy stuff on here and i'm a big lover of it so here this is :3 <3 (p.s. there won't be an order to posting! it'll be random >3<) i tried to put my own spin on these tropes, so i hope you guys look forward to them! <3

"bloom for me" - sungho x reader ˚ ⋆｡˚

angel sungho x human!reader | modern-day au, forbidden love, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort

"sungho has been assigned to be your guardian angel, to look after you from afar, and to make sure you stay out of harm's way. the only rules? don't get too close and never interfere with true fate. but when you find yourself in a dark place, unsure of whether life is truly worth living, sungho finds himself unable to simply sit around and watch you fall apart. he wants to show you the light; even if he must sacrifice everything he has even known for it."

"night life stars" - riwoo x reader ˚ ⋆｡˚

elf!riwoo x human!reader | old fantasy au, forbidden love, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, strangers to lovers

"growing up, you've always been told to never pass the flower field in the woods and to stay far away from elf territory because everyone knows that elves are the most violent creatures in the forest. one summer, a drought spreads throughout your village, and while fetching water from a stream in the woods for your family, you end up slipping and hitting your head on a rock. when you finally wake up, your eyes immediately lock on to a pair of glimmering green ones. eyes that belong to the enemy itself."

"safest sounds"- jaehyun x reader ˚ ⋆｡˚

hybrid!jaehyun x human!reader | modern-day au, hybrids & humans, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, strangers to lovers, living together

"after another tiring day at work, you're walking back to your apartment when you hear soft cries coming from an alleyway. with your undeniable curiosity, you go to find the source of sound—and much to your surprise, you find an abandoned hybrid curled up in a ball, shivering from the cold. with a promise to take him to a shelter when the sun rises, you let him come home with you so he can eat and have a warm place to sleep for the night. in the morning, though, you discover that this hybrid has already claimed you as his owner."

"seneca" - taesan x reader ˚ ⋆｡˚

magic!taesan x non-magic!reader | modern-day magic, rivals to lovers, fluff, hurt/comfort

"han taesan. the bane of your existence. he's been your academic rival at your boarding school ever since you transferred a few years ago, and you have despised him ever since. on your way home one day, you end up encountering some people looking for trouble. in the blink of an eye, taesan is there to help you get away, but something is off. might it be his glowing hands and eyes? no, no, no. you must only be imagining things... but taesan's threat to keep everything a secret says otherwise."

"dance on the moon" - leehan x reader ˚ ⋆｡˚

mermaid!leehan x human!reader | pirate au, angst, emotional hurt/comfort, hidden love

"there's nothing more that you hate than working as a maid on this deck. your captain and crew are worse than scum and you miss home every day, but you must do as they say if you want to survive. one stormy night, the crew catches a mermaid in their net while in the pits of the sea and your captain declares to sell him on the market as soon as they reach land. but when you become tasked to watch over the poor mermaid every night, you end up promising to help him escape back to his home. maybe he could find a way to help you escape too."

"seek for warmth" - woonhak x reader ˚ ⋆｡˚

vampire!woonhak x vampire!reader | vampire au, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff

"woonhak never asked to be a vampire; he never wanted to live a life he didn't choose and be cursed to live forever. thankfully, there's another fledgling in the coven who sees the light still shining in his undead eyes. you're there with him through the insatiable hunger and the yearning for a past he never had the chance to live, holding his hand through it all. eventually, he begins to find solace in your warmth despite his fingers being cold to the touch."

masterlist

[hanasnx]

just got done watching the movie “after” and shut the fuck up i love corny shit like this i was captivated the whole time like a baby sensory video. can’t wait to watch the next installments.

thinking about a modern au where you’re in college and han is your older, more experienced fwb. maybe he doesn’t even go to the school you’re at. and he pulls the same kind of shit as hardin in the movie. the whole “‘us?’ there’s no ‘us’. don’t leave your boyfriend on my account.” sort of thing, only for it to be revealed he’s head over heels for you and doesn’t know how to handle it.

i miss him

[fipindustries]

people constantly talk about making a little middle age peasant boy try a can of monster or whatever to give them cultural shock but one thing i genuenly wonder about is how they would have reacted to modern artstyles, particularly cartoon and anime ones.

like, we can see anime girls or random fanart on tumblr and think nothing of it because we grew up in a cultural context where they were either the norm or we saw the artistic evolution from the style we grew up with into the current styles. but like imagine presenting a victorian child (whose only exposure to comics might have been the yellow kid and hasnt gotten to see the creation of the rubberhose style which would evolve into the disney style which would later inspire osamu tezuka who would set the foundations for the anime style that would evolve across half a century into moeblobs or whatever) to an image of panty and stocking or dragon maid.

would he be able to parse that this is supposed to depict people? would he think they look attractive or that they look like deformed homunculi. would this little german boy, fresh off the coal mines, be able to appreciate that characters like the powerpuff girls are supposed to look cute? that the designs of the characters in arcane are meant to be compelling and aspirational? would hans who is two months away from dying from tuberculosis, think that the simpsons look like incoherent doodles from someone who has no idea how to draw? would he understand the stylization in the way that lisa's and bart's hairline fades into their heads or think they are disturbingly mishappen? would he be able to understand that bugs bunny is supposed to be a rabbit or would the proportions of his limbs throw him for a loop? he would probably be able to understand furries, after all anthropomophized animals are something that human culture has had since the very beggining, but would he have it within himself the capacity to get as obsessed as kids today get over them? we have to remember we grew up in a culture where humanized animals, specifically depicted in a semi disney-cartoonish style, has been the main component in a little kid's media diet, but would this kid, who at 12 years of age has never seen a sparkle dog, be capable of being as enchanted by this as kids today?

these questions keep me up at night.

[lifeafterartsch00l]

🍥Sns fic recs🍅

*If you know these authors on Tumblr, please tag them! ❤️😊*

Oxigen's overrated by TheMidnightSong

I love love love “Sasuke returns to Konoha” fics. Ive probably read like 200 of them and i would love to read 200 more. I 🍽️ it up!

Shout out to the latest chapter in this sweet & spicy fic! So well paced. They are so into each other. Hot enough to fry an egg on. Nominating for a smut award 👑 (Im making it a thing).

*Still thinking about chapter*

…what were we talking about again?

“Chapters: 9/?

Rating: Mature

Relationships: Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto

Characters: Uzumaki Naruto, Tsunade (Naruto), Gaara (Naruto), Dai-nana-han | Team 7 Ensemble (Naruto), Uchiha Sasuke, Kyuubi | Nine-tails | Kurama, Haruno Sakura, Ninjas of Konohagakure, Konoha 11 Ensemble (Naruto)

Additional Tags: Post-War, Post-Canon, Post-Canon Fix-It, Fix-It, Ending Fix, Uchiha Sasuke-centric, POV Uchiha Sasuke, Uchiha Sasuke Returns to Konoha, Uzumaki Naruto is in Love with Uchiha Sasuke, Boys In Love, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Idiots in Love, Falling In Love, sasuke actually wants to become better, One-Sided Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Sasuke, Haruno Sakura Needs a Hug, Eventual Smut, Post-Chapter 699 (Naruto), Canon Compliant, Canon Universe, Blank Period (Naruto), Drugs Made Them Do It, Drug Use, Drunk Sex, Getting Together, After Party, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, sasuke never went to jail, Uzumaki Naruto is Bad at Feelings, naruto is actually super in love, But he doesn't know how to handle it

Summary: After the war, Kakashi, the now Sixth Hokage, sees necessary for Sasuke to continue his recovery with Naruto, and puts him in charge of this task. At first, Sasuke has no problem with the idea, but he begins to notice strange behaviors in his friend, things that make him doubt about the relationship”

Detox (20 years together series) by wedonotsow

Dark, kinky modern au. A wonderful writer, authentic-feeling experiences ❤️ Bittersweet with happy ending. 🖤🌶️ also Naruto owns a restaurant in this one and I like to imagine him like Carmie from the Bear 😂 yes chef 😉

“Chapters: 10/10

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Relationships: Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto, Uchiha Sasuke & Uzumaki Naruto, Naruto - Relationship

Characters: Uchiha Sasuke, Uzumaki Naruto, Hatake Kakashi, Karin (Naruto)

Additional Tags: Drug Use, Hurt/Comfort, Rehabilitation, True Love, Rough Sex, Pain, Drug Addiction, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Recovery, Love, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Face Slapping, references to bloodplay, Anal Sex, Healthy Relationships, Angst with a Happy Ending, Shibari, Domestic Fluff

Series: Part 2 of 20 years together AU

Summary: Naruto thought that he'd experienced it all. After 20 years of enmeshed history and 10 years in a committed relationship, they had endured death, betrayal, violence, and even jail; but always inexplicably tied in solid foundation of unconditional love.

Nothing could break them. Naruto had been sure of it. That is: until Sasuke was forced into rehab for a drug addition he had been hiding. To overcome these latest demons they must confront the deepest, darkest parts of themselves. Even the stuff that really, really hurts.

Good thing they are so used to enduring pain”

Let the world burn by newtaste

I like to think this fic is like Bridgerton with teeth. Very sexy and smart with class struggle & character development. The romance is so well done 🔥💙

“Rating: Mature

Relationships: Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto, Nara Shikamaru/Temari

Characters: Uchiha Sasuke, Uzumaki Naruto, Nara Shikamaru, Uchiha Itachi, Haruno Sakura, Hyuuga Hinata, Hyuuga Neji, Sai (Naruto), Gaara (Naruto), Yamanaka Ino, Temari (Naruto), Hatake Kakashi, Deidara (Naruto), Sarutobi Konohamaru

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Historical, Slow Burn, Yaoi, Enemies to Lovers, Inspired by Bridgerton (TV), Uchiha Sasuke-centric, Period-Typical Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, First Time, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Angst with a Happy Ending

Summary: Uchiha Sasuke is one of the most eligible bachelors in Konoha, looking for a successful marriage. He is an elitist, a conservative duke who hates people who do not abide by the rules of society.

Uzumaki Naruto is a rebel, a mere commoner, who plans to revolutionize the system that favours only the rich.

When they accidentally meet at the spring ball, none of them suspects their beliefs would be shaken to their core.

The story takes place sometime in the middle of the nineteenth century, in a European setting, during the industrial revolution. Slow burn”