#cutting equipment demand

[ellamrfr]

#market research future #cutting equipment market sales #cutting equipment demand #cutting equipment companies #cutting tools

[florencewellch]

Didn't like Taylor play at smaller venues and cut certain parts of the show that required more equipment in certain countries during the Speak Now and Red tours for budget reasons?

#can she bring that back so she can play at more latam countries? #i know chile was cut from latam leg bc they couldn't afford her demand and equipment transportation

[flwrstqr]

CALL ME YOURS !! (LHS - 이희승)

SYNOPSIS: ever since you broke up with your ex, choi jiho, who cheated on you with another girl, you have always wanted to get revenge. when you meet jiho again at school, to prove you were over him and had met a better man, you told him you were meeting someone. you lied and told him you were meeting a random guy who you pointed at on your school's bulletin board for being the top student in the whole school. coincidentally, that guy was lee heeseung, known for his quiet and smart personality. then jiho demands to meet him in real life, hand-in-hand with you, which now you have a huge problem. first, you have to find heeseung, and next, you have to date him.

pairing: topstudent!heeseung x popularstudentfem!reader

genre: fake dating, s2l, romance, high school au, sunshine x cold

warning(s): reader + heeseung being in denial, your ex cheated, kissing, inspired by a k-drama (i forgot which one), two of them being awfully awkward at first, swearing, grammar errors, party, lots of love confusions, does say that winter is dating beomgyu, punching, fighting

word count: 7k

AN: guys im back with a long au, i never really write long aus, so this is slightly new to me. i did proofread it but not super thoroughly so if i made any mistakes, my bad for that .

taglist: @yenqa @mylstserenade @jlheon @naespas @jooniesbears-blog @erehkinnie30 @wonifullove @miumiuisme @shawnyle @dimplewonie @beomluvrr @jiaant11 @teddywonss

ALL YOU WANTED WAS REVENGE. Sweet revenge against your idiotic ex, Choi Jiho.You remember the moment you walked into the girls locker room to go deliver something to your PE coach, only to find the room “empty”. It hit you like a ton of bricks when you stumbled upon Jiho, locking lips with your “supposed” best friend, Kim Haeun, in the girl’s locker room Lip on lip, eyes closed, moving in sync. Heart shattered, tears streaming, you bolted, tripping over a basket of equipment and scraping your knees quickly catching attention of Jiho. His voice trailed after you, calling your name as you fled into the distance.

Losing both your best friend and your boyfriend cut deep. Being single was one thing, but being unable to find anyone who measured up to Jiho was another.

"YN, your standards for men are too high!" Karina remarked from the bleachers during PE.

You shrugged. "They've always been high." For the past 4 months, no one was your type compared to Jiho, the perfect boyfriend in your eyes: tall, handsome, a football player, rich, and occasionally nice.

"It's because of that disgusting asshole," Ningning scoffed.

"He isn't disgusting!" you retorted.

"YN, you need to get over him. This is just becoming toxic, plus you dumped him in front of the whole school ," Giselle chimed in. She was right. You vividly recalled the moment, twenty minutes before the bell, eyes swollen from crying all night but disguised behind makeup, replaying yesterday's scene you witnessed in your mind.

"YN!" Jiho's voice snapped you back to reality, his figure rushing towards you.

"Can we talk?" he asked, breathless.

"Talk about how you fucking cheated on me? Fine, I'll hear you out," you yelled, drawing everyone's attention.

"Can you keep it down, YN?" Jiho snapped.

"Sure I’ll quiet it down when I want to. Go to your girlfriend, Haeun. Why does she have to be my best friend, out of all people?" you glared.

"YN, let's talk inside," Jiho groaned, irritated.

"No, we're done. I never wanted you anyway, you asshole. Just fuck off," you spat, the words stinging even as they left your mouth The next thing you knew the scene spreaded like wildfire at school.

"Are you okay?" Minjeong asked as you sobbed at the lunch table.

"Listen, YN, Jiho wasn't worth it. You saw what you saw," Karina tried to console.

"I don't know... it's just over now," you murmured, head in your hands.

"Maybe it's a sign to find someone better," Ningning suggested.

"I don't know..." you whispered, feeling lost, unable to move on.

“I’m for sure there’s someone way better than him.” Giselle added (biggest lie you ever heard).

MONTHS PASSED AND YOU FOUND YOURSELF IN THE LIBRARY, lending a hand to the librarian in organizing books before school started. As you went about your duties, dropping off books and preparing to fetch more, the one and only, Jiho, stood by the school bulletin board waiting for you. It had been months since the breakup, and yet, the wound was still fresh, a constant reminder of the pain (really yn..)

"I wanted to say a word," Jiho awkwardly mumbled, eyeing you for a reaction, his hands in his pockets.

You reluctantly agreed, "Fine, make it quick. I'm busy."

"I broke up with Haeun," he stated, the words hanging in the air.

"What?" Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. 

"I ended things with Kim Haeun," he said more firmly. His words sank in, but confusion lingered. But why was he telling you this now? Then it hit you—he wanted you back. Yet, on a day when you missed him, you suddenly felt nothing. He had left you for another girl (well, technically, you dumped him), betrayed you, and now he came back because you were his second choice?

"Why are you telling me this?" You managed to maintain calm.

"I still like you, YN LN," he confessed, causing your eyes to widen. You bit your lip, before you could accept his confession like your 5 minute ago self would. Your heart didn’t thump like it did when you were around him. Your hands weren’t sweaty like they were when he looked at you before. Your mind wasn’t racing like it was when Jiho confessed to you for the first time, months ago. It was nothing like any of that–you just felt empty and cold.

"I'm seeing someone," you blurted out, realizing the lie you had just said. Crossing your fingers, you hoped he wouldn't ask about the identity of your "so-said boyfriend"

"Who?" he inquired, raising his eyebrow. Desperately searching for an excuse, your eyes landed on the bulletin board, displaying a list of top students and their ID photos.

Rushing over, you pointed at the first photo and name you saw, "That guy," you said, reading his name, "...Lee Heeseung! I'm dating him."

"Oh, really?" Jiho cast a skeptical glance between you and the photo, a smirk playing on his lips. "Then," he leaned in closer, "how about you introduce me to him, hand-in-hand, next week? I want to see if he's worthy of you." Panic rushed in you, and your throat went dry. You forced a smile and nodded in reluctant agreement.

"Sure," you replied.

"Great, see you next week," Jiho said, turning and walking away. You were officially doomed. Now, you have to find this Lee Heeseung and give him a deal.

YOU WANDERED DURING LUNCH, TRYING TO FIND HEESEUNG. You only heard about him because he got a perfect score on the hardest SAT exams, but you didn't really pay attention.

"Heeseung? Sorry, I don’t know who he is," a girl replied when you asked her about Heeseung.

"It's okay," you smiled politely and left, feeling frustrated.

"I'll never find him," you groaned to Karina, who was with you while you asked everyone about Heeseung.

"Why did you lie to Jiho then? I thought you weren’t over him. Last night, you were giggling at how cute Jiho is and how much you want him back," Karina asked, taking a bite of her apple.

"I don’t know. He was just using me. I knew it because he and Haeun broke up," you explained, letting out a soft sigh. "He saw me as a second option, and I got into this mess because I lied to him about having a boyfriend who's probably some ugly nerd."

"I told you he was using you the entire time! But you didn’t trust me!" Karina scolded you.

"Sorry, I was just blind back then," you mumbled.

Before your last attempt, you walked up to a boy and asked the same question you’d been asking everyone.

"Do you know Lee Heeseung by any chance?" you asked. The boy's eyes widened, and a big grin spread across his face.

"Yes, I do! For what reason?" the boy quickly replied. For the first time, someone knew who he was.

"Do you know where he is then?" you inquired, hoping he could help.

"I do. I’m close friends with him. Come, I’ll show you where he is," the boy replied as you followed him, waving to Karina goodbye.

As the two of you awkwardly made up the long staircase, you arrived at the rooftop of the school. When the boy opened the door, a lonely figure sat by the table, reading a book.

"Heeseung!" the boy called out, causing the figure, supposedly Heeseung, to turn around.

"What, Jungwon?" Heeseung raised his eyebrow, quickly glancing at you and then back at Jungwon.

"YN was looking for you," Jungwon quickly said, nudging you to speak. Heeseung obviously knew who you were, known for dating Jiho and your soft-delicate visuals.

You walked towards him awkwardly, “Uhm…can we talk privately?” Slightly glancing at Jungwon, signaling him to leave quietly. As Jungwon left quietly, you cleared your throat.

“So…” you started off a bit nervous, “I need some help?”

"What help?" Heeseung answered a bit coldly, “If it’s anything studying related, I’m not interested-”

"I need help dating," you blurted, realizing what you had just said.

"What?" Heeseung gave you a puzzled look, "Dating what?"

"I lied to Jiho. Okay, I don’t have interest in you or even Jiho. I lied to him saying that I’m meeting you," you spilled the news. Heeseung had an empty look on his face as you tried to read his expression.

“Why me?” Heeseung arched his eyebrow.

“You were the first name I saw,” you explained, “So can you fake date me? I need it, please,” you pleaded, hoping he would accept your request.

"No, I’m not interested," he turned around, quickly getting his book to start reading again. Your jaw dropped, no one had ever rejected you like that.

"What?" you spat, feeling terrible that you got rejected for the first time.

"I’m not interested in you or in dating. So, I strongly believe that I shouldn’t do it," he said, quickly focusing his attention on his book.

“I’ll do anything!” you begged, feeling desperate.

"Anything?" Heeseung quickly averted his attention to you, dropping his book slightly to make eye contact with you.

"Yes, anything. I’ll do anything," you replied, hoping he would accept it.

"Then introduce me to her," Heeseung answered. You looked confused.

"Who's her?" you raised your eyebrow.

Heeseung’s cheek slightly blushed, it was the first time you saw him so embarrassed. “Karina,” he mumbled under his breath. Suddenly it clicked—he was interested in Karina, your best friend.

You gave an eager look, “Deal! I’ll introduce you to her after all of the fake dating.” You pulled out your hand.

"Deal," Heeseung replied, shaking your hand.

A  FEW DAYS LATER, YOU FIND YOURSELF in the convenience store, an unexpected place for someone like you—a popular girl to be at. Your outfit was simpler than usual, baggy gray sweats and a white tank top, with your hair thrown up in a messy high ponytail and an oversized jacket completing the look.

You scan the snack aisle, contemplating your choices, when the doorbell chimes, signaling a customer had entered. Your heart thumps as you recognize the last person you expected to encounter—Heeseung. He's dressed in simple gray sweatpants and a black hoodie, his messy hair somehow adding to his charm.

Your eyes lock momentarily before you both awkwardly shuffle towards each other. "What brings you here?" you ask, surprised to find him in a convenience store at 2 am.

"Why are you up so late?" he counters, swiftly turning the interrogation on you.

"I couldn't sleep. What's your excuse?" you reply.

"Studying," he responds matter-of-factly, grabbing an energy drink before swiftly checking out and leaving. You hurry after him, catching up as he strides down the street.

"Studying late? That's a first," you mutter to yourself, gazing up at the night sky.

"I don’t want to flunk my classes, unlike you," he retorts, avoiding your gaze.

"I'm not that hopeless," you roll your eyes.

"Yeah, you are," he quips, taking a sip of his drink.

"Hey!" you playfully threaten, pulling back your arm as if to hit him. But then something unexpected happens—you catch sight of Heeseung's smile, genuine and endearing. You quickly shake off any wayward thoughts; after all, you're just his so-called “girlfriend”.

"Where do you live?" you inquire, trying to change the subject.

"Stalker much?" Heeseung teases.

"Shut up," you retort, rolling your eyes.

"I live in the house near the college," he answers, disposing of his empty can.

"Do you walk to school?" you ask, trying to prolong the conversation.

"Yeah," he replies.

"Then... do you want to walk together tomorrow?" you suggest, stopping in the quiet and empty streets.

"Walk together?" he repeats, surprised.

You nod and quickly add, "Yeah, you know, for you know..."

Heeseung considers for a moment before agreeing, "Sure."

"Great! I'll come by your place at 7 am since school starts at 7:30!" you smile, remembering to ask for his number. He inserts it into your phone, adding, "Don't blow up my phone."

"I'm not that obsessed with you," you retort.

"I think you are," he jokes.

"In your dreams," you shoot back.

YOU FOUND YOURSELF STANDING OUTSIDE Heeseung's door, feeling an awkward knot tighten in your stomach as you waited, fingers fidgeting nervously. After what seemed like hours, the door swung open to reveal a woman, likely Heeseung's mother.

"Hi, who are you?" she inquired, her eyes curious but welcoming.

"I'm YN LN," you replied, managing a warm smile despite your nerves. "A friend of Heeseung's."

"Heeseung's friend?" Her expression softened into a delighted grin. "I didn't realize Heeseung had such a pretty friend. I'm Heeseung's mother. Just call me Mrs. Lee."

"Mom..." Heeseung's voice interrupted, his presence suddenly beside you as he quickly shuffled to put on his shoes.

"Heeseung, she seems like a sweet and pretty girl," Mrs. Lee remarked before Heeseung darted, closing the door behind him before his mother could say anything else.

"Your mother seems really nice," you commented, attempting to ease the tension.

"Mhm," Heeseung mumbled, his attention already diverted to his book that he quickly pulled out from his backpack. 

With a pointed look, you reached out your hand, silently urging him to remember.

Heeseung sighed, rolling his eyes in mild exasperation, but he relented, tucking the book away and clasping your hand in his. The touch sent a jolt through you, a feeling you couldn't quite grasp.

"So..." you began, eager to break the silence. "Where's your class?"

"Class 3-B," he replied shortly, his gaze fixed ahead as if unwilling to meet your eyes.

"Mine's right next door." you exclaimed, hoping to inject some enthusiasm into the conversation. "Perfect! Do you know what this means?"

"What?" Heeseung's response was clipped, his tone guarded.

"That I can come over to your class during lunch!" you declared with a wide grin, trying to lighten the mood.

"I eat on the rooftop, alone." he added, emphasizing the word alone.

"Ah, I forget you’re a loner," you teased gently.

"At least I'm productive with my free time," he retorted.

"Well, today we're together!" you suggested brightly and then with a smirk you whispered, "And I can introduce you to... Karina." The mention of your best friend's name made Heeseung blush slightly.

"Shut up," he groaned, moving to cover your mouth with his free hand just in case you would say anything else.

"Like I want to-" feeling a sudden hard squeeze in your hand "Ow..."

"Now shut up before I squeeze harder," Heeseung warned, though there was a hint of genuine threat in his tone.

"You're no fun," you muttered. Eventually, you arrived at the school, fingers still intertwined as you drew curious whispers from the hallway.

"YN and Heeseung, dating? No way..." you heard a girl whisper by the lockers, causing a flush of embarrassment to color your cheeks. When you reached Heeseung's classroom, you reluctantly released his hand, noticing the tension in his posture as he leaned against the doorframe.

"See you later?" you asked, "I'll be on the rooftop during break."

"Alright..." Heeseung's response was hesitant, but then came an unexpected word that caught you off guard. "...baby." The pet name hung in the air.

"R-right... anyway, bye..." you stammered, feeling a rush of different emotions. You'd been in relationships before, but you were never so flustered for such small things like that. Could it be... you weren't falling for him, right?

HEESEUNG SETTLED AT THE EMPTY TABLE on the rooftop, his gaze drifting across the school grounds. The rooftop held a special meaning for him, offering a quiet place to read, barely visited by others.

“Heeseung!” Your voice sliced through the silence, drawing his attention. He glanced up to see you approaching, two lunches in hand.

With a bright grin, you placed the meals in front of him. “I brought lunch!”

"Thanks," Heeseung replied , his tone cool as he examined the homemade kimbap. As you both sat down, awkwardness settled between you, by the avoidance of eye contact.

Summoning his courage, Heeseung brought a question that had lingered in his mind for months. "Why did you like Choi Jiho?"

Your eyes widened at the unexpected, catching you off guard. You paused, hesitating with how to respond.Memories of Jiho flooded your mind. You had forgotten about him for the past 4 days due to Heeseung being on your mind 24/7.

You cleared your throat, summoning a bitter lie to your lips. "I... uh, he was nice, I guess."

"Did Jiho even like you back?" Heeseung's question cut through the air. That’s when you realized something. You remembered the way Jiho would never defend you in any moment or barely spend time with you. And the time when he did? He would always be on his phone. You realized how stupid you were as you thought the moments where he just wanted attention from the public by kissing you or flirting with you meant that he loved you. 

"I... I don't know," you admitted. Deep down, you knew the painful reality—that Jiho had used you.

"Oh, okay..." Heeseung responded, sensing the weight of your words. "So, let's change the top—"

"I know he didn't like me," you interjected, your gaze drifting to the sky before meeting Heeseung's gaze. "I know he was the worst boyfriend I could ask for."

Confusion flickered across Heeseung's features at your sudden confession.

"I was blind. I regret it," you murmured, your gaze falling to your lap. "But it's in the past."

Heeseung regarded you with his usual stern and cold look. "Then why did you tell Jiho you were meeting someone else?"

"Because... I wanted to prove I was happier now," you muttered, grappling with your tumultuous emotions.

"Are you?" Heeseung's gaze bore into yours.

"I... I think I am," you replied

"You 'think'?" Heeseung pressed, his tone firm.

"I'm happier than before," you insisted, though the vagueness of your answer hung in the air.

"That's not specific," Heeseung challenged.

"I can't be specific," you confessed, frustration simmering beneath the surface. "Because I don't know, at all."

"Are you sure?" Heeseung persisted.

"Heeseung, it's my feelings, yes I'm sure," you asserted.

"I'm just physically and mentally curious, so it allured me to—" Heeseung began, but you cut him off.

"Okay, I think that's enough. The bell's going to ring soon. Text me later!" With that, you rose abruptly, snatching your lunch bag and offering a quick wave before descending the stairs back to class.

HEESEUNG LAY ON  HIS BED,  staring up at the ceiling. He knew he should be studying, but your words about Jiho lingered in his mind. "I'm happier than before." Why was he even pondering such things? Lost in thought, he was jolted back to reality by a faint buzz from his phone. Retrieving it, he found a message from you.

YN LN: heeseung!! all my friends rejected me to go to the mall TT, so wanna go together?? ><

Heeseung paused, a moment of surprise flashing across his features. You were asking him to go to the mall with you? It felt almost like you were asking him out. He composed himself and replied:

Heeseung: Sure. Send location and time, I’ll be there.

Putting down his phone, he realized the weight of his agreement. He had just agreed to go on a date with you. And now, he needed to get ready. Hastily, he rummaged through his closet, seeking out a suitable outfit. Opting for his lone stylish varsity jacket paired with jeans, he ran his fingers through his hair in an attempt to tidy it up.

Rushing to the mall, he found you leaning against a store wall, your attention fixed on your phone. As he approached, a cupid seemed to strike him with an arrow as his cheeks flushed. The simplicity of your outfit and the gentle cascade of your hair rendered you utterly captivating.

You looked up, catching sight of Heeseung's slightly stunned expression, and greeted him with a warm smile, gesturing for him to join you.

"Hi," Heeseung muttered, still awestruck by your beauty.

"Hi!" you returned the greeting with equal warmth. "I just need to buy some makeup for my friends, or maybe myself, and possibly shop around! Anything you need?"

"Not necessarily," Heeseung replied, scanning the mall.

"Okay then, follow me," you said, seizing his arm and leading him to the nearest makeup store. Arriving at the lip product section, you perused the selection of lipsticks, lip glosses, and lip tints. Grabbing a random lip tint, you turned to Heeseung.

"Can I try it on you? I need to see if it looks good on a person," you suggested.

"What? When did I sign up for this?" Heeseung sighed.

"Please," you pleaded, giving him your best pout. "I can erase it right after."

"Fine."

With careful precision, you applied the tint to his lips. The warmth of his breath brushed against your cheeks and neck, sending a flurry of sensations through you. Your heart raced as you admired his perfectly shaped lips, now tinted with color. After smoothing out any unevenness, you stepped back to admire the look.

"Hmm... I think this works," you concluded, grabbing the new tint to go check out and pay for it.

YOU SAVORED THE SWEET TASTE OF vanilla ice cream as you took a bite, sitting side by side with Heeseung on the bench outside the convenient store where you first met. He listened attentively as you shared stories about your friends and family.

"And then Giselle told me—" Your sentence was cut short as Heeseung's fingers delicately wiped a smudge of ice cream from the corner of your lips.

"Mhm?" He hummed softly, encouraging you to continue. Your heart fluttered at his touch, beating rapidly in your chest.

"...y-yeah," you stammered, trying to regain your composure, your gaze drifting to the hues of the sunset painting the sky in shades of blue and orange.

"Are you done with your story?" Heeseung inquired, to which you nodded hastily. You weren't finished, but another word might turn you into a flustered mess.

After a brief silence, you suggested, "How about we go for a walk by the Han River?" Heeseung agreed with a nod, and soon you found yourselves strolling side by side along the riverbank, the gentle sound of water trickling in the background adding to the peaceful atmosphere.

Unexpectedly, Heeseung asked, "Are you going to the dance?" It was a question he wouldn't normally ask.

"The dance?" you raised an eyebrow, caught off guard by his inquiry.

"Yeah, the school dance?" Heeseung clarified, his expression tinged with skepticism.

"Oh, well, yeah," you replied, feeling a pang of disappointment as you remembered his feelings for Karina. He didn't like you, so why did you allow yourself to hope for something more?

"Is Karina going?" Heeseung continued, and you struggled to find your voice, your throat suddenly dry.

"O-oh, uhm, I think she's going..." you managed to say, the reality of your situation crashing down on you like a wave. Foolish fantasies had consumed you for the past five days, but now you bit your lip to stave off the embarrassment and tears threatening to surface.

"I think I'm tired. I'm gonna go home now. Bye, Heeseung," you forced a small smile before turning away, walking in the opposite direction. Heeseung watched you go, a confused expression clouding his features as you moved farther and farther away.

LEANING AGAINST THE WALL, you found yourself lost in thoughts of Heeseung, the person who was on your mind day in and day out. Why did it bother you so much if he had feelings for your best friend, Karina? Why did his presence hold such sway over you?

"YN?" Winter's voice broke through your trail of thoughts,snapping you back to reality.

"Oh, sorry, I was zoning out," you replied, trying to shake off the distraction.

"You've been distant all day. Is everything okay?" Ningning's concern was evident in her voice.

"Just tired, didn't get much sleep last night," you reassured them with a forced smile, hoping they wouldn't press further.

"Are you sure?" Giselle's skepticism lingered, her gaze searching yours.

"It's nothing, just life being complicated," you offered, trying to reassure their worries.

"If you need to talk, we're here for you," Karina chimed in, her comforting touch on your hands a familiar gesture she usually did. How you longed to confess and tell them about Heeseung and the jumble of emotions you felt and fought with, but the fear of ruining your relationships with both him and Karina kept you quiet.

At that moment, it came to you: you were in love with Heeseung. It had to be a mistake right? You could never like someone like Heeseung.  The way your heart thumped when Heeseung did small actions like hold your hand or even wipe off anything from your mouth.

 Yet, you couldn't shake the fear, the fear of history repeating itself with someone like Jiho, selfish and foolish. What was the point of falling for someone who didn't accept your feelings and liked someone else

HEESEUNG HAD REHEARSED EVERY WORD, every breath, for the moment he would finally summon the courage to ask you out for dinner. With trembling fingers, he reached for his phone, his thumb hovering over the call button. The weight of his nerves pressed down on him as he prepared to take the risk.

As the phone rang, his heart raced, the sound of your voice on the other end sending a jumble of emotions through him "Hello?" you answered, your voice like music and beauty to his ears.

"Hi..." Heeseung replied, his voice betraying his unease.

"Why did you call me?" you asked, curiosity tinged but yet your voice sounded heavy and drained. Heeseung couldn't help but notice the change in your tone for the past days, wondering if he had somehow caused it. Had he done something wrong? 

"I was just wondering if... uhm... you wanted to go get dinner tonight together?" Heeseung's voice faltered slightly, the weight of his question hanging in the air.

"Dinner tonight?" Your voice held a hint of confusion, but there was also a spark of interest. "When and where?" you inquired.

"At the Japanese place down the block, at 6?" Heeseung suggested, hoping you would agree.

"Sure, I'll see you at 6 then," you replied, your voice brightening slightly.

"Right, anyways, bye!" Heeseung quickly ended the call, a rush of happiness coursing through him. He had done it. He asked you out for dinner.

With a sense of pride, Heeseung flopped onto his bed, his phone resting on his chest as. a wide grin spread across his face. He replayed the conversation in his mind, excited for the evening of day. 

Meanwhile, on the other end of the line, you couldn't contain your excitement. Heeseung. Lee Heeseung. had. Asked. you. out. to. dinner. You, YN LN.  You couldn't help but squeal with delight into your pillow.

Eager to make a good impression, you jumped out of bed and rushed to your closet, rummaging through your clothes in search of the perfect outfit for the occasion. 

HEESEUNG SAT NERVOUSLY, tapping the table as he waited for you to arrive. Within minutes, you rushed in and quickly spotted him.

"Hi!" you greeted with a smile, settling down at the table.

"Hi," he smiled back (inside you felt a flutter at how cute his smile was). You both looked at the menu and ordered as the waiter approached. After eating, you quietly walked outside, enjoying the cool evening air.

The dark, cloudless sky revealed a glimmering array of stars. You admired the view, unaware that Heeseung was watching you, captivated by your beauty.

"The stars are so pretty," you remarked in awe.

"Mhm," he replied, still focused on you. Suddenly, you felt his fingers gently tuck a stray hair behind your ear. Your face flushed as butterflies fluttered in your stomach.

"I have a question, YN..." Heeseung began, and you turned to him, curious.

"Do you... want to go to the dance?" he asked. Your heart raced, your stomach churned, and your head spun. He had just asked you to the dance.

"T-the dance?" you stuttered.

"Yeah... I mean, just as... you know, for visual purposes," he tried to clarify.

"Right..." you nodded, agreeing. "I'll go with you." Heeseung's face lit up with a big grin as you accepted his invitation.

"That's great! I'll, um... see you at the dance then," Heeseung said with a small smile and a wave as you both went your separate ways, heading home with a light heart.

As you walked home, your mind buzzed with excitement. The thought of going to the dance with Heeseung made your heart skip a beat. You couldn't help but replay the moment he asked you, feeling a rush of happiness each time. It was like a dream come true, and you couldn't wait for the night of the dance to arrive.

WEEKS FLEW BY, each one filled with anticipation, excitement, and a series of dates. Finally, the much-anticipated day of the dance had arrived. It had been six weeks since you eagerly marked this date on your calendar. Reflecting on the past four months since you met Heeseung, you knew deep down that you were head over heels in love with him. The moment he asked you to the dance, those feelings intensified.

"Do you think this dress is pretty enough?" you asked, twirling in your knee-length black dress adorned with delicate lace details, a sweetheart neckline, and spaghetti straps.  The dress hugged your figure perfectly.

"It's gorgeous," Ningning complimented, deftly assisting with your hair.

"It's perfect, just like you," Winter reassured, adjusting your dress with care.

"Easy for you to say, with Beomgyu as your date," you teased, prompting laughter from your friends.

"And you have Heeseung," Winter smiled, smoothing out the fabric of your dress.

"You two are so cute together," Giselle teased, earning a blush from you.

"I love you guys," you said, feeling grateful for their support as you shared a group hug.

"Even if I'm dating a man, you'll always be my number one," Winter jokes, lightening the mood as you head to Karina's car.

Upon arriving at the dance, the lively atmosphere was perfect. Laughter, music, and chatter filled the room as people talked, danced, and enjoyed themselves. Spotting Heeseung entering the room, you felt a rush of excitement.

He looked perfect in his suit, his hair perfectly styled. Rushing over to him, you greeted him with a beaming smile.

"Heeseung!" you exclaimed. Heeseung looked up, his eyes lighting up at the sight of you. I

"You look amazing, YN," Heeseung complimented, his smile genuine.

"Thanks, but you're the one who looks stunning," you replied, feeling your heart flutter as you took in his appearance. "Come on, let's grab some snacks and go have fun!"

The next two hours were filled with laughter, dancing, and cherished moments spent with Heeseung and your friends. However, it was until you excused yourself to the bathroom, to then meet Jiho.

"YN," Jiho's voice cut through the noise, sending a chill down your spine.

"What do you want, Jiho?" you asked, your tone laced with irritation.

"Are you here with your 'so-called' boyfriend, Heeseung?" Jiho taunted, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Yes, and what's it to you?" you retorted, your patience wearing thin.

“Yeah there is.” his smirk widened, “Don’t act stupid, I knew everything.” 

“God I hate you Jiho.”  you spat, feeling your anger rise.

"Come on, YN. Admit you still love me, and everything will go back to normal," Jiho sneered.

“I don’t even like you anymore, Jiho.”  you said firmly, trying to keep your composure.

"Oh, really? Maybe this will change your mind," Jiho said, leaning in closer. You felt his fingers slip into your waist, his grip firm and tight. You felt his face leaning closer to yours. You quickly stepped back and pushed him aside. 

“Are you fucking crazy?” you yelled. 

“YN, why are you so pissed? Not like you like anyone.”  Jiho's eyes bore into yours, a smirk playing on his lips.

“I don’t want to fucking kiss you,” you glared, “Now fuck off please.” 

“Why is it because of Heeseung? Your fake boyfriend? God, he probably doesn’t even like you YN. He only likes you because you're popular.” he laughed. Your heart sank at his cruel words. The words stung as you heard each word. Heeseung was just a stupid fake boyfriend you had. The two of you had never had a real relationship. A real love. Was Heeseung just playing with your feelings? Did Heeseung even love you like how much you loved him? 

"I hate you, Jiho," you whispered before leaving the party alone, your heart felt heavy. 

YOU SPENT HOURS lying in bed, staring out the rain-splattered window, your cheeks damp from the relentless stream of tears. Days had passed since the dance, and you hadn't mustered the strength to leave the confines of your home. 

"YN, you've been here for hours," Karina's voice broke through the silence, her concern evident as she entered your room. 

"Why didn't you text me?" 

"Phone died," you muttered, burying your face deeper into the sheets.

"Tell me what's wrong," Karina urged gently, taking a seat beside you. 

"I don't know," you confessed, your voice barely audible. 

"Come on," Karina coaxed, her comforting presence offering a glimmer of solace. 

"Okay, fine," you relented, the words tumbling out in a rush. "Jiho said some awful things to me at the dance. Now I'm a wreck, and I can't face Heeseung. I'm in love with him, and it's tearing me apart." 

Karina's eyes widened at the torrent of emotions pouring out. "And you kept this from me all this time?" 

"Karina, I didn't know what to do," you admitted, your voice choking with emotion. "I thought Heeseung felt the same way, but then Jiho made me doubt everything."

"How does Jiho know anything? He's not Heeseung," Karina retorted, frustration evident in her tone. "He's just trying to mess with your head." 

"But what if he's right? What if Heeseung was just pretending all along?" you sighed, a heavy weight settling in your chest. 

"YN," Karina's voice softened, her touch gentle as she sought to comfort you. "How do you know Heeseung doesn't like you? Have you talked to him?" 

"I haven't," you admitted, uncertainty clouding your thoughts.

"Then how can you be so sure?" Karina questioned, her eyes searching yours. "Heeseung cares about you, YN. He was worried sick after the dance. He searched everywhere for you and even left the party early out of concern."

"Are you serious?" you asked, a glimmer of hope flickering in your eyes. 

"Dead serious," Karina affirmed, her sincerity unwavering. "Talk to him, YN. You'll see." 

"But what if I'm wrong?" you hesitated, your fear holding you back. "Just trust me on this," Karina reassured, squeezing your hand gently. "Talk to Heeseung. You'll thank me later." Karina offered you a reassuring smile before enveloping you in an embrace.

HEESEUNG WAS SERIOUSLY DEAD WORRIED about you. He thought you were possibly hit by some car or even worse kidnapped. His thoughts wandered as he tried to think of all the possibilities you were. You stopped even coming to school for weeks.

The memory of the dance replayed in his mind like a broken record, haunting him with unanswered questions. Your sudden disappearance after excusing yourself to the bathroom left him questionable and restless. Desperately, he asked your friends as your friends only left him shrugs and quietness making him uneasy of the situation.

When you finally returned after a week-long absence, Heeseung couldn't help but notice the change in you. You awfully looked tired and you had eyebags. And the most important change, you were avoiding Heeseung. Was it something he had done to mess things up?

Heeseung sat at his usual spot on the rooftop, gazing out at the view, trying to get his thoughts out.

"Look who it is, Lee Heeseung," a voice pierced through the silence, pulling Heeseung from his reverie. Turning, he found Jiho leaning casually against the stairway exit, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Heeseung's girlfriend, huh?" Jiho taunted, his words hitting Heeseung like a sudden blow.

"What did you do to YN?" Heeseung's voice was edged with a mixture of anger and concern, his gaze sharp.

"Nothing much, just a little truth-telling," Jiho chuckled, his demeanor full of arrogance. 

"What truth?" Heeseung's tone was laced with urgency, his fists clenched in frustration.

“Just a few things that need to be said. Like how you guys are just dating, nothing more than that.”

Heeseung's jaw tightened as the weight of Jiho's words settled in, his mind reeling with disbelief and anger.

"Do you even know why YN hates you?" Heeseung spat, his voice seething with contempt.

"Why don't you tell me?" Jiho's smirk widened.

"Cause you’re truly an awful person” Heeseung retorted, his patience wearing thin.

“Oh really?” Jiho teased, “I didn’t know.”

Jiho's mocking laughter only fueled Heeseung's rage, his frustration exploding into action as he delivered a swift punch to Jiho's jaw.

"You're really undeserving of her," Heeseung's words echoed in the empty space.

“You could punch me as many times, I don’t care.” Jiho smiled. 

“I would but actually I don’t want to see your ugly face, so fuck off.” Heeseung stormed out of the rooftop leaving Jiho alone on the ground.

IT WAS 1 AM WHEN YOU FOUND YOURSELF at the convenience store, clad in your most comfortable clothes, not even caring if people saw you. The rush of cold air from the conditioner greeted you as you stepped inside, scanning the assortment of snacks. The scent of sweet delights filled your senses, tempting you to buy more. You reached for a snack when the chime of the door signaled someone's arrival.

Looking up, you were met with the sight of Heeseung standing across the store, his gaze fixed on you. It felt like deja vu, reminiscent of the first time you laid eyes on him. Your throat went dry, memories of Jiho's words echoing in your mind: "He probably doesn’t even like you." Anxious, you bit your lip as Heeseung approached.

"Can we talk outside?" Heeseung's voice broke through the tension. With a quiet nod, you followed him out of the store.

"YN, what's going on?" Heeseung's concern was evident as he confronted you, hoping you would answer honestly.

"Heeseung, it's nothing," you lied

"It's not nothing," Heeseung persisted, his tone firm.

"Okay, fine, I'll tell you. I fell in love with you, but then Jiho made me doubt everything. I thought you probably didn’t even like me, maybe you liked Karina instead. What was the point of being with you if I'm only going to hurt myself?" The words spilled out in a rush, leaving you empty.. Heeseung froze at your confession, disbelief in his expression.

"You like me?" Heeseung's eyebrow arched in surprise.

"I know you don't like me—" Before you could finish, Heeseung silenced you with a soft kiss. His lips were soft and perfect.You felt his fingers sliding into your waist, pulling you closer to deepen the kiss. Your lips were moving in sync, in the same passion, kissing each other back. You felt his fingers intertwined with yours, drawing soft circles on the back of your hand.

Pulling away, breathless, you attempted to speak, but Heeseung beat you to it. "I like you a lot, YN. I was in denial of my feelings for months, but I realized I was actually in love with you." You widen your eyes at his confession

"Heeseung, you're not lying, right?" suspicion tinged your words.

"Do you think I would ever lie to you?" Heeseung chuckled, tucking your hair behind your ear, a gesture that he would always done 

"No, but it all seems non-real," you confessed.

Heeseung's laughter, the sound you cherished the most, filled the air. "Then, will you be my real girlfriend, YN LN?"

"Of course, any day I'll choose you," you smiled, leaning in for another kiss. 

MONTHS HAD PASSED and you found yourself in a state of bliss you never imagined possible. Seated on the rooftop with Heeseung, your fingers intertwined, you gazed out into the view before you, the cool breeze enveloping you in a sense of serenity.

"Look how far we've come," you remarked, a smile gracing your lips as you watched Heeseung absentmindedly draw small patterns on your palm.

"Yeah," Heeseung nodded, his touch gentle and comforting.

"I love you, Heeseung," you whispered softly, your words carrying the weight of your affection.

"I love you more," Heeseung replied in a tender whisper, his warm breath tickling the sensitive skin of your neck as he leaned in to press a series of delicate kisses along its curve.

"Heeseung, that tickles!" you laughed, squirming slightly at the sensation.

"This is your punishment for getting a 60% on the exam," Heeseung teased, his tone playful yet teasing.

"Hey, I'm not some nerd like you!" you retorted, playfully poking his side.

"Nerd?" Heeseung chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

"A cute nerd," you amended with a grin, your heart swelling with affection.

"And you're my cute princess," Heeseung declared, pressing a sweet and tender kiss to your lips, his love for you shining brightly in his eyes. You truly were in love with Heeseung, and you weren’t going to deny it.

#𐙚 nini works #enhypen #enhypen fluff #enhypen masterlist #enhypen x reader #nini talks!!! #enhypen scenarios #enhypen au #nini rants !! <3 #enhypen imagines #heeseung scenarios #heeseung x reader #heeseung enhypen #heeseung imagines #lee heeseung #jay enhypen #heeseung fluff #park jongseong #sim jaeyun #heeseung au #heeseung x yn #heeseung x you #heeseung soft hours #heeseung soft thoughts #lee heeseung x reader #lee heeseung fluff #lee heeseung x you #lee heeseung imagines #heeseung #enhypen x female reader

[sunderwight]

SV AU where Shen Yuan transmigrates into a dragon.

It's not so bad, at first. He's an extremely magical sort of dragon so he can easily take on a humanoid shape, and he has dominion over an entire mountain, with a magical gate that leads to his palace. Said palace has a fully stocked treasury, a library, garden, etc, with the only real downsides being that the place is kind of huge and very difficult for a neet with limited housekeeping or landscaping skills to keep up with. The original dragon had enslaved a bunch of fairy spirits to do it for him, but since Shen Yuan has moral objections to that, he'd let them all go and they'd run off before he could even think to offer to hire any of them as paid employees instead. Not that he can blame them for being in a hurry to get gone.

He does his best, and generally enjoys being a dragon lazing on his mountain, or wandering the beauty of his palace and investigating the books and scrolls kept there. He doesn't actually seem to need to eat or drink, so that's not really an issue, and nobody looks keen to bother him. But after a few months the dust starts to really pile up, and trying to figure out how to do his own laundry without modern equipment leads to several disasters, and even though he doesn't need to eat he's starting to think it would be quite nice to have a fancy sit-down dinner and enjoy it for its own sake anyway. He has an enchanted larder but his food prep skills aren't up to much.

So, Shen Yuan ventures away from his mountain. He keeps to his human disguise when he's not traveling, and at first tries to hire on some help from a nearby city. But when he explains that he lives on the mountain, he realizes the difficulty, because everyone in the area knows that only the dragon lives there. So they all think he's either a liar or a fraud, or some servant of a nefarious supernatural creature angling to trick and possibly devour them.

Shen Yuan tries approaching another town in his dragon form, to see if anyone will actually deal with him if he's being upfront and honest about the situation, but the townspeople just panic. He returns to his mountain to rethink his strategies, and in the meanwhile the alarmed locals hire a swordsman to go after him. The guy gives him a few very painful cuts before Shen Yuan mostly-accidentally sends him careening into a boulder. One broken arm later the swordsman is gently persuaded that the pay he was offered isn't worth the effort on this job, and leaves.

Discouraged, Shen Yuan decides he's gonna give this one last try. He picks the second closest city, flies up, and is like yes hello, yes I am indeed a dragon, no I'm not trying to burn down your walls, yes it would be excellent if you stopped shooting arrows at me, look they don't even get past the scales? It's kind of silly? Okay, yes, thank you very much. Good. Now, the thing is, I'm looking for some people. I want to take them back to my mountain with me, to my incredibly nice palace, and -- what was that? A princess? No no I don't want a princess, what would I even do with one? If anything I'm looking for the complete opposite of a princess!

Anyway, the locals take this to mean that the dragon is demanding a sacrifice in the form of a pretty boy of no particular pedigree, and Shen Yuan takes this to mean that he's finally made his case clear and they're going to dig up someone who is willing to overlook his being a dragon in exchange for free room and board and fair wages out of his massive treasury.

SY's a bit disheartened when the entire city could only apparently turn up one such person -- an underfed teenage boy who looks at Shen Yuan like, despite the situation, he is still expecting to be eaten at any moment. Poor thing! But at least having one servant means he can potentially get more, especially if it all goes well. The lad can tell others that working for a dragon isn't so bad! Well, provided that he doesn't give up in alarm at the state of the mountain palace.

For his part, Luo Binghe at first thinks he's definitely going to get eaten, and then that this dragon is weirdly nice about planning to eat him, and then that maybe the dragon has other (even less savory!) plans for him, until finally he sees the state of the dragon's laundry and the foot-thick layer of dust in the corners, and gets completely distracted. Mortal terror forgotten, those floors should not be that filthy, Lord Dragon respectfully that isn't how anyone should prepare rice either, but oh Binghe has never seen a kitchen so nice before in his life...!

Anyway, needless to say, it works out just fine.

#svsss #scum villain's self saving system #scum villain #bingqiu #this is luo binghe's palace now shen qingqiu just lives there #the only hiccup is that binghe is strangely bad at convincing anyone else to come work at the palace #shen qingqiu encouraged him to assist in finding other help but somehow binghe always comes up empty handed #oh well guess they'll have to continue living there just the two of them with no one else #(this eventually does change but binghe sulks for WEEKS about it)

[goatisbetheres]

The Penguins, Boston Bruins, Carolina Hurricanes, and Washington Capitals have already started the process of implementing optional neck protection for players, a Penguins and league source told The Athletic. The collective aim is to stock up on multiple available forms of equipment for players, at their choosing, to test during practices.

The sooner the better, several Penguins players said on Tuesday.

“Not wait until training camp,” Evgeni Malkinsaid. “Do it now. Maybe players will like, maybe not. Our choice, you know?

“But, yes, wear in practice, see what feels good. Maybe not same thing like big pad for neck. But if shirt or cover like for socks and wrists, let’s try. Not wait.”

The death of Johnson, who died after his neck was cut by a skate blade during a collision in an English league game on Saturday, sparked Penguins general manager Kyle Dubas and coach Mike Sullivan to discuss the pros and cons of bringing neck protection gear into the club’s equipment mix. Advised by members of the equipment staff on details to consider — not only comfort but also how the protective element would look on players — Dubas reached out to the league and suggested head equipment manager Jon Taglianetti inquire with manufacturers.

Currently, manufacturers offer neck guards and base layer tops that prevent or lessen the severity of cuts.

“We’re in the process right now of trying to talk to our players about some protective equipment in those vulnerable areas,” Sullivan said. He added the Penguins’ minor-league affiliates, the Wilkes-Barre/Scranton Penguins (AHL) and Wheeling Nailers (ECHL), are now required to wear a form of neck and wrist guards.

The Penguins — because Johnson was once one of their own — want to set an example that could eventually lead to neck protection becoming mandatory in the NHL. However, that would require the league and its Players’ Association to reach an agreement, which is unlikely this season.

Even procuring options for players with which to experiment sooner than later comes with challenges. Specifically, a Penguins source said, the club is having “a hard time getting stuff” because of high demand in the wake of Johnson’s death.

“Of course, we’re talking about it now,” Kris Letang said. “But there’s a reason why kids are wearing it, you know?

“There’s always going to be accidents. But if you can minimize the risk and if they can find something that’s going to be comfortable for the guys to play with, it should be an experiment.

“I don’t know how it’s going to play out. But I’d probably try something.”

Like Pettersson, Letang sat at his locker on Tuesday and found it impossible not to think about Johnson while discussing the neck protection topic. He’s proud his organization, the only one he’s known over 18 NHL seasons, is attempting to lead by example.

“But it shouldn’t just be the Penguins,” he said. “Everybody should (be) trying something.

“We all know what happened (to Johnson). We should try to prevent something like that from happening again if it can be done.”

this is so important

also this tweet

#pittsburgh penguins #adam johnson #kris letang #marcus pettersson #evgeni malkin

[quintinh43]

Heavy Heads and Heavy Hearts | Quinn Hughes

Summary: Quinn gets injured as a game. His girlfriend takes him and cares for him.

Pairings: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Anxiety, Head injury, food, angst, mentions of vomiting (no actual vomiting)

Notes: Hi guyss! Hope everyone is doing ok! Injured Quinn got the most votes, so here we are! This one is the longest one ive done so far, I definitely did not mean for it to be as long as it is but here we are. Also, im not a professionl in any way, so i cant say this is concussion accurate. I just went off of my experience in dealing with athletes that have Concussions, and my own Concussions lol. Anywaysss I hope yall enjoy. Love Soph.

---

There was something so gut-wrenching about watching the man you love get injured. One second, Quinn was cutting quickly around the back of the net, and the next, he was getting slammed into the boards hard. It was nothing. You get hit, you get up, and you keep going. It was simply a part of hockey.

Except this time, Quinn wasn't getting up. He wasn't moving at all. You stand up, heart in your throat. The room feels like it's tilting. The sharp shrill of the refs whistle cut through the air, stopping the play as the refs skate over to where Quinn is lying motionless on the ice.

They are calling for medics. Your head is spinning with the worst possible scenarios as you excuse yourself from your seat and practically sprint to the locker room. One of the security members holds out a hand to stop you.

"Ma'am, you can't be here, please exit this area"

Great. Just fucking great. This is exactly what you need right now. The overwhelming need that aches in your bones demanding to know that Quinn is ok makes you want to cry. Because now this fucker won't let you through. And you're nearly too panicked to do anything about it.

The logical route would be pulling out Quinns wallet, that has his ID in it, and explaining that you are his girlfriend. But with your anxiety high, and your heart in your throat logic is not the first thing on your mind.

"Listen buddy," you start, ready to absolutely rip this guy a new one. Thankfully for him, one of the trainers who knows you happens to be exiting the locker room.

"Let her through, Jace, that's Hughes' girl" he says, waving you forward. The security guard- Jace apparently, lets you pass with a grumble.

By the time you get rink side, Quinn is (half) conscious- thank God, and being half carried off the ice by Petey and Boeser. He's transfered to the care of two medics, who sit him on a bench and begin to check him over.

One of them is asking him questions gently, both to keep him awake and assess the damage to his head. While the other stabilizes his neck. "Can you tell me your full name and today's date?" One of the medics asks.

"Quintin Jerome Hughes," he slurs, eyes fluttering, "its Feb'uary... twenty-second, twenty-twenty-four"

Your breath hitches. He got the date wrong. You can't help the panic that rushes through you. "Good job Quinn, do you know where you are?"

"Van, Roger's arena," he mumbles, "playing hockey"

"Good," the medic hums. "we need to take off your equipment to make sure you aren't injured anywhere else. Is that ok?"

"Y/n" he mumbles, eyes closing and head tilting forward, his head snapped back up a moment later, and if the other medic hadn't had his head stabilized he would probably have mild whiplash.

"Stay awake for us, Quinn. Is Y/n someone you'd like us to call?"

You spring forward at the mention of your name, "I'm here," you say, pushing past a couple of people who are standing around, ready to assist if the situation gets worse.

"My girl" Quinn slurs, his lips tilting into a small smile. Your heart flutters at that. In the midst of his delirium, he still cares about you dearly.

"Hello Y/n, I'm Sam," the guy who's been asking him questions, "and that's Kieran," he says, nudging his head towards Kieran, who gives a small smile.

"Do you think you could help us remove his equipment?"

"Yes absolutely, just tell me what to do" you say, glad that you can help.

"Can you remove his jersey and shoulder pads? Kieran needs to keep his neck stable, and I need to check for any other possible injuries. And keep him talking"

"Yeah, of course," you start by bending his elbow to slide it out of the sleeve of his jersey.

"Hey Quinny" you say softly, sliding his other arm out of his jersey "you played really really good today, I'm so proud of you"

"Thanks baby," he murmers, "glad you're here." He tries to lean his head against your chest, he huffs when Kieran doesn't let him, and you can't help but let out a breathy laugh, patting his head lovingly.

Kieran tilts his head to one side, allowing you to pull the jersey over his head. You deposit it in his cubby behind him and make quick work undoing his shoulder pads and pulling them off gently.

"I'm glad I'm here too. What do you wanna eat when we get home?"

Sam gently asks you to move out of the way so he can check Quinns upper body for injuries. The second you aren't doing something, the anxiety rises back to your chest. You take a deep breath and begin to unlace his skates. You pull them off, slipping a pair of slides on his feet so his socks don't get wet.

"Hmm" he hums in thought "potatos...?"

You laugh, "Alright Quinny. We'll have potatos"

Finally after palpating his whole body to make sure he doesn't have any other major injuries, testing his reflexes, and asking him a bunch more questions. They diagnose him with a minor concussion, and give you a list of things to look out for.

They deem it safe enough to leave you alone with him for a little bit and tell you to change him into something more comfortable. It takes a bit of work to take off his hockey pants and shinguards and get him into a pair of sweats and a hoodie.

By the time you're done, the equipment manager and the medics have collected the rest of his equipment. After making sure his hockey bag is fully packed with everything, you grab his keys from your purse, while the EM helps you bring his bag to his car, and the medic helps you half carry him down.

He can mostly walk on his own, but better safe than sorry. On the ride home he keeps his head resting against the window, a cool compress is wrapped around his neck, and he's holding one over his eyes with one hand, while the other holds yours tightly.

You trace your thumb over the backs of his knuckles soothingly and keep him talking the whole way home. "What kind of potatoes do you want when we get home, Hon?"

"Can I change my mind?" He asks sheepishly. He's still talking very quietly and slurring his words a little, but the medics said that was nothing to worry about unless he started getting worse. So far, it was nothing to worry about.

"Of course my love, anything you want" you bring your intertwined hands to rest on your chest. It's a comforting weight over your heart, that you didn't know you needed until it was there.

Your phone lights up from the cup holder, it's a text from Petey, saying that the Canucks won the game. There are a few other texts, from his parents and brothers. You make a mental note to reply to them as soon as you get Quinn settled at home.

"Can we have noodles?" He mumbles.

"Yes, of course, love." You can't help but kiss the back of his knuckles. Watching Quinn get injured to the point of losing consciousness was not something you ever wanted to experience ever again.

"Your boys won, by the way," you say softly.

"The did?!" Quinns head shoots up front the window, and he is filled with instant regret as a sharp twinge shoots down his neck and to his shoulder.

"Ow fuck" he mumbles, laying his head back against the cool window.

"Careful love," you gasp, squeezing his hand.

"I know, I'm sorry," he mumbles, squeezing your hand back. You sigh, you have been on edge since he got injured, and it didn't look like the anxiety would dissipate for a while. You would just have to deal with it and try not to be an over bearing worry wart.

"You guys won 5-2" you smile, finally pulling into your apartment parking lot.

"I didn't do much except get my brains knocked around" he grumbles. "Some captain I am"

You scoff, flicking him in the nose lightly. "Don't sell yourself short, Quinny. Three of those points are yours."

Quinn wrinkles his nose and leans forward to bite your finger. You yelp, snatching it away with a glare. He sticks his tongue out at you, and you laugh, your chest feeling a little lighter than before.

"Come on, let's get you upstairs. " You say, undoing your seat belt and getting out of the car. You run around to his passenger side and open the door for him, and help him step out of the car. He throws an arm over your shoulder, and you wrap one around his waist. He's not as wobbly on his feet as he was earlier, but he still isn't at full strength.

Quinn squeezes his eyes shut and tucks his face against your hair. The florescent elevator lights were not pleasant in his state. "Can we keep the apartment lights off?" He mumbles against your hair.

"Sure love," you said rubbing your hand up and down his back soothingly, "we're almost home," you fish the keys out of your purse and unlock it. You toe your shoes off at the door while Quinn slips his off easily and you guide him to the couch.

"What do you want first, baby? Food or a shower?"

"I'm not really hungry" Quinn mumbles, laying on the couch and adjusting the ice pack under his neck. You sit on the couch handle, stroking his hair back from his forehead. "I know honey, but we should try to get something light in your system, if you're feeling upto it."

Quinn sighs. He knows you're right. "I can make you toast? Or a sandwich or something?" You offer, smoothing your thumb over his hairline.

"Do we have bagles?" He asks

"Yeah, we have bagles, I'll make you one of those?"

"Yes please," he mumbles, you plant a kiss on his forehead and go pop a bagle into the toaster, "can you do it with cream cheese and jam?" He asks, chewing on his lip nervously.

"Sure, Hon, I'm gonna make myself some tea. Do you want a cup?" You ask as you pull the cream cheese and jam out of the fridge.

"No thanks, I'm ok" he mumbles. After his bagle is done being made, you help ease him into sitting position, and sit next to him with your cup of tea. He eats a bit more than half the bagle, and you finish off the rest before deeming it time to shower.

You remember all the messages from his family, and quickly shoot them texts, saying that he's ok and you just got home and you'll talk more when he gets settled.

"I'm gonna put these back in the freezer while we shower, yeah?"

Quinn nods, handing the ice packs to you to put in the freezer. You help him up slowly and lead him to the bathroom. You keep the lights off and leave the door open so you have a little bit of light from the bedroom.

While the shower warms up, you grab a clean change  of clothes for both you and Quinn and set them on the counter before helping Quinn strip. He has to brace an arm against the wall while you hold him steady with one hand and maneuver his clothes off with the other.

"I'm sorry," he murmers against your hair as you help him step into the shower.

"Oh Quinn, there's nothing to be sorry for," you say, sitting him on the shower seat.

"I'm sorry you have to take care of me like this." He huffs, resting his head against the cool Ike of the shower wall, "I feel so pathetic, " his voice cracks, and your heart nearly breaks.

"Quinn, my love, taking care of you is not a burden. It's a pleasure. I love you to the ends of the earth, and I would do anything for you, my sweets. " You kiss him on the forehead sweetly as if to prove your point.

He doesn't say much about it after that, but you can tell he still feels bad. You make quick work of washing his hair, being very careful of where a small bump has formed on his head. You scrub him down and rinse him off before shutting off the water.

You wrap a towel around yourself and then dry Quinn off gently before helping him change into his pajamas. "Let me change and then dry your hair a little bit before we have to put an ice pack on your head, ok?"

Quinn nods. He sits on the counter, leaning against the wall while you change into your pajamas. You plug in the hair dryer and dry his hair, keeping his head steady with one hand. As soon as his hair is no longer soaking wet, you help him off the bathroom counter and into bed. You grab the ice packs from the freezer and help him position them on his head and neck until he's comfortable.

"I'll be back in less than ten minutes, baby. I'm just going to grab your stuff from the car, ok?" You say pulling on a pair of sweats and a hoodie over your pajamas.

"Ok" Quinn mumbles, "I'll call if anything" he says patting his nightstand to make sure his phone is there.

You kiss him on the forehead and pull the bedroom door halfway closed so the light from the hall isn't too bright. Grabbing his car keys and your phone from the counter, you hit the call button on Ellen's contact as you slip out the door.

She picks up on the first ring "Hows he doing?" She asks immediately. She sounds distressed, maybe like she's been crying. You don't blame her. They probably haven't heard anything unless someone on the team contacted them, and you have no idea how bad it looked on TV.

"He's ok, Mrs. H, it's a mild concussion. His symptoms aren't worsening at all, and they said with some rest he'll be significantly better by tomorrow"

Her sigh of relief was unmatched. "He'll be out of play for a couple of weeks, but they just want to make sure he's back to 100% before he's playing again." The elevator finally opens, and you hit the button for the parking garage.

"Thank you so much, Y/n, im glad you're there with him. I know he's in good hands. I'll leave you be love, Jack and luke are super super anxious and would appreciate a call from you. Text me if anything happens."

"I will, Mrs. H, tell Mr. H I say hi"

"I will dear, thanks for taking care of our boy"

"Of course El, he's my boy too," you smile.

You swear you can hear Ellen smile over the phone. "We love you dear, I'll talk to you tomorrow ok. Don't forget to take care of yourself too"

"I will, I love you guys too. I'll text you updates"

"Alright, bye dear."

"Bye," you sigh, pressing the end call button, just as the elevator opens to the parking garage. As you press the button to open the trunk, you call Jack.

"Y/n,"  he huffs out, not even after a full ring. "How's Quinn? If he ok? What happened?"  Before you can answer any of Jacks questions, Luke's voice cuts him off, "is Quinn ok? Are you guys at the hospital? It looked really bad -"

Before their panicked tangents can get worse, you interrupt them both. "Take a breath, you two," you say calmly, breathing exaggeratedly so they can copy you "in and out, relax. Quinn is ok. He's ok"

"He's ok?"

"He's ok" you repeat. You feel the tears start to build, and your voice cracks "He's ok"

"Oh Y/n." Jack says softly.

"It's ok, I'm ok" you say, more to yourself than to Jack as you wipe the tears away. "Hold on, gimme one sec." You say, setting down your phone as you pull Quinn's hockey bag out the car. You close the trunk, make sure the car is locked and head back to the elevator.

"Hi, sorry I'm back. I was just grabbing Quinn's stuff out the car."

"Can you tell us what happened?"  Luke asks softly.

"He's got a concussion, and he's a bit bruised up, but other than that he's alright"

"Fuck, how bad is it?" Jack asks, the fear is evident in his voice, and you can't blame him. Concussions can be really bad sometimes.

"They said its a mild concussion, he's not throwing up at all, his memory is ok, he didn't injure his spine or anything, he'll be ok after a few days of rest. He probably wont be playing for a few weeks, but better safe than sorry."

"Oh thank God"  both Jack and Luke huffed "isn't he not supposed to sleep for 24 hours after or something?" Luke asks.

You shake your head with a small smile "Thats a myth, Lukey. As long as I check on him every few hours its ok for him to sleep."

"Ohh, ok. Well that's good" Luke says.

"We are glad he has you Y/n, thank you for taking care of our brother."

"Always" you say softly.

"We'll let you go now, keep us updated?"

"I will, Jackie. You two get some rest, you have a big game tomorrow, love you guys"

"We love you too Y/n/n" both boys say, hanging up.

You sigh, leaving his bag at the door. "Y/n?" Quinns weak voice calls out from the bedroom. You rush to him immediately, scared that something is wrong.

"Yes, Quinny, I'm right here" you say kneeling beside the bed, and stroking his hair.

"You took long," he mumbles, pressing his lips against your wrist.

"I'm sorry love, I'm here now," you stand, stripping the hoodie and sweats off and climbing into bed next to him. You stay a little distance away, not wanting to hurt Quinn. But he grumbles at you, tugging on your shirt to get you to come closer. Normally, he would just grab you and pull you closer, but he's still weak.

"I don't wanna hurt you" you mumble, scooting closer so that you are tucked against his side. He tangles your legs together and rests his head against yours.

"Never" he says, pressing his lips to the side of your head. You rest one of your hands on his hip, under his shirt, stroking your thumb over his hip bone.

"How you feeling?" You ask softly.

"Beat" he mumbles "thanks for taking care of me"

"I'll take care of you for as long as you let me love" you say, pressing a gentle kiss to the underside of his jaw.

"Forever?"

"Forever."

---

Wc: 3.1k

#qh43 #quinn hughes #nhl imagine #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes x y/n #luke hughes #vancover canucks #jack hughes #hockey #nhl x y/n #nhl x you #nhl imagines #love soph

[moondirti]

give peace a chance

I missed you, you want to say, but you know it’ll do nothing to change this routine. You settle on a question he’ll have a response to, for all it can do to uncover thoughts he’d want to bury deep.

pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x f!Reader rating: explicit (18+ mdni) word count: 3.4k summary: you’re always there, waiting on him warnings: size kink, blowjobs, facefucking, thigh riding, masturbation, squirting, angst, brief mentions of death, canon typical violence, mild mild gore, fluff notes: had 'Yes to Heaven' by lana del rey on loop while writing this one. out of body experience fr. anyway, i finally gave in and wrote for the boogey man. he's been occupying too much headspace for me to not.

You don’t hear him come in. 

Crisp, white sheets gather in a knot at your midsection – previously pristine, wrinkles pull at its surface now. You can’t sleep, but that’s most nights.

Your curtains dance with an incoming drift, lazy gauze, sheer in the cresting moonlight. If you weren’t so absorbed in the white noise of your whirring fan, you could catch the quiet click of your backdoor. You always leave it open, just in case; people know not to dare take advantage of the liberties you exhibit. There’s the invisible threat, protection, of a shadowed mercenary over your toytown home. 

His missions are incalculable. That’s the one thing he cannot promise you. Come back soon, you beg, but he leaves you with a silent kiss and nothing else. 

There were once days where you’d tag along. Your chest twinges at the uncomfortable reminder. Cracked bone, spilt ichor; the bullet had barely missed your heart, lodged between the throbbing organ and a major vessel. He’d raged to get you decommissioned, incensed demands – they’d never seen him as angry. 

Carpet flattens under your bare feet as you crawl out of bed, soft, like all things here. You hadn’t the luxury of comfort before, when Simon was Ghost and you were a rookie under him, but he’d granted you a life you sought only in your dreams. The first few days in paradise, you were torn over appreciation and resentment at the act, bandages wrapped around your chest – but you’d healed and found the irreversible damage etched into the hard plate of your clavicle – a rounded, discoloured scar. 

You’re glad you’d left that life behind. 

Padding out to the kitchen, you pour yourself a drink. The cupboard underneath your sink contains only bourbon – blended, straight, kentucky – so you fish out juice from your fridge. It’s sickly sweet, all natural sugars, your ass. 

“Shouldn’t drink that stuff.” A voice cuts the tranquillity, rugged and choppy on harsh consonants – a cockney accent. You soothe the alarmed surprise racing in your gut, a gentle smile turning your cheeks. 

His eyes pierce back at you, a smudge of white against an otherwise charcoal canvas. He’s sitting at the dining table, just across your kitchen island, his massive form illuminated by the warm light you’d turned on. You don’t know how you missed him, but then again, the man lives up to his name. Ghost; creeping up like the dead. 

“We’re all out of milk.” You respond, your tease lilting to an affectionate whisper when it hits your tongue. Simon scoffs. “Not like whiskey’s any better.” 

You pour him a glass regardless. 

He’s still equipped in his tactical gear, his gun set on the chair next to him. It adds unnecessary bulk, layers on layers of insulation, conservation – impossibly, he looks bigger like this. Larger than life. Your hands run along the coarse material of his bullet proof vest; you think you can feel his muscles tense, despite the surfaces separating you. But he takes the bourbon with little fuss, wrapping a strong arm around your legs so your knees knock the side of his thigh. 

“Hi,” You giggle, beaming down at him. 

“Hey.” He mocks, setting the drink down. 

His hard-shell mask conceals any tells you may glean. In just the balaclava, you can catch the shape of his lips, the curve of his nose, when he smiles – the painted fabric pulls taut over his features. But a skull stares back at you, and all you have are his eyes, framed with ashen lashes. They’re only enough to tell you one thing; he’s happy to be home. 

You love the way they catch the light, a subtle glimmer in them. 

For a while, the two of you just stand there, revelling in the weighted company of one another. His gloved hand presses circles into your flesh, just under the hem of your sleeping shorts, while yours find every bit of exposed skin you can. There’s not much – just the small stretch of neck you can reach, tucked behind his collar before the rest of him disappears. But you find it with reverence, smoothing over it, his heated body slowly easing by the minute under your ministrations. Some part of you realises the desperation you observe him with, the hurried glances at his back, his stomach, his legs. You look for darkened, sticky fabric. You look for blood. 

You don’t have the courage to speak your fears into fruition. 

Simon slowly begins to pull the heavier parts of his armour off. The night vision goggles on his head, the packets of ammo stuffed into available pockets. You move to help him, humming, shifting as you unbuckle the back of his plate carrier. His groans are wicked, deep waves of relief stemming from somewhere in his chest, and you hide the blush that arises at the sound, throwing the layer into an unknown corner. You remember the soreness, the knotted shoulders from days in the same kit, your spine in aching need of a good long stretch. You make a mental note to rub his back later.

You take off his gloves. There’s little give – they’re crusted in dried gore and gunpowder, the bones on their front almost entirely camouflaged. A sharp tug is what it takes to peel them off his hands. But then his skin is bared to you. You survey the grit that dusts the contours of his veins. Dirt has sunk through the fibres. 

When he’s left in just his mask and underclothes, he finally slumps, posture altering from that of a soldier’s to one of a tired man. His legs spread, thick thighs filling his pants, and he reaches for his drink again, lifting the bottom of his mask and balaclava to take a large gulp. His newly revealed Adam's apple bobs with the motion.

I missed you, you want to say, but you know it’ll do nothing to change this routine. You settle on a question he’ll have a response to, for all it can do to uncover thoughts he’d want to bury deep. 

“How many men?” You speak into the space. He pauses, his pink lips pursing at the brim of his glass. You have half a mind to regret asking, but you do this for your own solace. 

“Jus’ three.” Just. To anyone else, he may sound indifferent, his tone etched in that low timbre, unwavering with the grief over lost comrades. To you, you know that his pain is cavernous, a bottomless chasm he’ll undoubtedly return to. Indicatively, he pulls his mask back down over his face. It isn’t just three men. It’s three too many – but it’s on the lower end of the casualties the 141 usually faces. 

You wait for him to say the words you’re looking for. 

“They’re alright.” 

You nod. Al Bravo team was not amongst the fatalities. Gaz. Price. Soap. You cling onto the reassurance of your friends’ continued survival, a buoy until the next raging storm. 

Simon’s hand returns to its place on your leg, tracing long lines along the back of it. You shiver, suppressing the heat that spreads up your tummy like wildfire. His steel gaze is indecipherable as he looks up at you; your emotions flit across your face erratically. You wish he’d take the mask off, get on even footing with you, but it takes a while for him to come down from his missions. For as long as he’s racked with enduring adrenaline, he’ll keep his guard up. 

He’s surrounded by the safe walls of your – his – home, but he’s in over his head. 

You bow down, placing a gentle kiss on the curve of his jaw. The arm wrapped around you draws you closer. 

He smells like saltpetre, guncotton, hints of kerosene floating in the air between you. You push your face nearer to his, and you’re able to catch a faint whiff of his aftershave, traces of the cleanliness and cologne he leaves behind here, with you. You open your mouth to comment on it; he beats you to your cause: 

“Lovely girl.” He squeezes the flesh on your upper thigh – not quite your ass, but almost. 

“Mmm, Simon.” You start, capturing his eyes. They bear down on you with an intensity that makes your core ache. “Y’Can’t keep doing this to me.”

You imagine he’s smirking when he retaliates. “Can say the same for you, expectin’ me to focus out there when you look this good.” Like a giddy schoolgirl, you bite your lip at his compliment. 

Stirring to kiss his jaw again, you slowly start to unzip his windbreaker. Your fingers span the front of the black hoodie underneath, tracing the hard plane of his chest, feeling it rumble with a noiseless groan. His legs spread wider. You catch a telling bulge in your peripheral. 

“Need help?” You murmur, purring when he slips underneath your shorts to give your rear a feel. His callouses dig into you.

“Need you.” He says. 

The hand that was on his chest inches downward now, your nails raking along. You give a half-suppressed laugh as his abdomen tightens, bracing against your ticklish assault. You want to feel it bare – to extricate the exhaustion from an uncovered torso and watch as his muscles roll, solid brawn unravelling with the slightest touch. But you’ll settle on this, you know he needs it. His mask does unspeakable things to you, anyway. 

“Relax.” You encourage with a breath. Simon doesn’t listen; he still kneads your flesh with an unforgiving grip. His thumb brushes close to the soaked patch on your panties – with the appreciative grunt he gives, you know he senses the arousal emanating from you. 

His cock strains his pants, taking up all the space it can. You coo, poor thing, as you cup the underside of it. He gives you a reproaching spank, and your hips buck in tandem to his. As you do, you realise now how uncomfortable of a position you’re in – your neck cramps in this angle. Really, it’s a silly thing to be hung up about, but Simon must read the subtle cringe you give, for he urges you to kneel, guiding you by your head to crawl in between his open legs. 

You’re halfway under the table when you look up at him again, cheek pressed adoringly against his knee. He’s seemingly content like this, petting round your forehead to the ridge of your chin. His palm is large, dry, warm. You quickly lose trajectory as he caresses you, all droopy eyes and small smiles. 

He catches when you rub your legs together, chasing a friction that will never amount to him. You can never escape his scrutiny; Simon captures everything. 

He pats your cheek and pinches it before his touch leaves you. Newly awake, you perk up, perching on your haunches to lean further into him. You’re always eager, but his chuckle at your barely concealed anticipation beckons a stone to lodge itself in your throat. It’s a ball of desire, denser than most things, snowballing with every passing moment in his presence. You’re tuned in on him, rapt to every subtle thing – the deep exhales, the anchoring of his boots to hardwood floors. It’s take, take, take, an absorption of anything he’s willing to give. It tends to be like this after he comes back –  was like this back on the base, when you’d known nothing but his moniker and callsign. 

You recall rubbing one out to the staticky crackle of his voice over the channel, your headset pressed tight to your ears. You’d never told him that; you figure now’s a good time as any. 

“Used to fantasise about you, y’know.” You sigh, ironing over his calves. You move your brushes to his hulking thighs when he begins to undo his pants, wetting your lips. 

His next exhale is torn, steadiness ripped to shreds by your less-than seductive words. “Oh yeah?” He remarks, scooping into his boxers to pull his heavy cock out. “What about?” 

It springs free just then, angry head flushed a deep red, blood supplied by pulsing veins that branch to the top. You keen at the precum that beads at the top, rushing to catch it with your index to slip it onto your tongue. He says nothing, merely contemplating as you wriggle with the heady taste of him. 

“This,” You add after a long moment, before licking a long, wet stripe up the base of his dick. His whole body jerks unexpectedly, and he grabs onto your head to steady your impatient efforts. 

“Fuckin’ hell.” 

“Gone soft on me? I see.” Chortling, you play with his tip, batting it back and forth to tap your lips. He is anything but soft – regrettably, though, the rise you get from teasing him is too great to pass up. 

“Shut it, pet, before I turn your insides over.” He urges you forward once he’s settled. You don’t tell him how much you’d really like him to. In due time. 

Your lips wrap around the bulbous head, sides stretching to accommodate his girth. You’re familiar with the drill by now; hollow your cheeks, keep your jaw nice and loose. Use some teeth, he chokes at the pain. 

His skin moves with you as you sink down , rolling your tongue over the ridges that cross your path. Your breath is hot, your mouth even hotter – sweltering, you suck him in and coat his rock-hard with a film of saliva, which aids you when you bob back up. You can’t reach the root of him, not yet – he’s way too big – so your hand wraps around the length not in your mouth. 

“That’s it.” Simon rasps, now pushing you down in support. Your hum is lost in the lewd slurps, but he twitches with the vibrations it produces. A glob of drool leaks from you, seeping down to gather in his scruffy curls – you use it as slick to twist your wrist around his base. 

He’s ripe with the salty taste of sweat and precum, a dizzying combination – you hope you’re subtle as you slip your free hand down your pants, pressing up into the plush of your cunt. You find where you’re most sensitive, a tight bundle of nerves, and touch yourself, all the while savouring the masculinity that engulfs you – his muscled thighs by your ears, his giant hands pressing down on your head. 

A particularly loud groan sounds from above. You triple your efforts, delighted at your part in helping him unwind. At one point, his added pressure pushes you down all the way. You gag, blubbering with choked gasps, but your lips stay sealed around him, an unforgiving vacuum. His happy trail scratches your nose,

“Gonna cum, you lovely thing. Righ’ down your throat. Take it all, understand?” He asks. You’re able to discern the wobble in his abrasive voice – his balls spasm at your lips, ready to erupt at any moment. You nod, gaping at him earnestly, with wide, watery eyes. His own soften, downturning at the corners. “‘Atta girl.”

With the hazy memory of his face before he’d left, you can draw an abstraction of what he might look like right now. You trick yourself into thinking he’s smiling down at you. Gentle, caring. 

You don’t have to try as hard to believe it. 

Your fingers work fervently over your sopping cunt, slipping between velvet folds. Your exertion, combined with his pure fucking magnetism, is almost enough to tip you over the edge. A cluster in your gut stiffens, grows, upends. You stroke yourself impossibly faster. 

Simon curls inward, his mask now directly above you. A bit of his cock drags from your mouth – your bottom teeth scrape a vein in consequence. He jolts. Then, rich, long ropes of cum shoot into your awaiting mouth, painting you with musky white. You keep jerking him as he does, urging more, more, more, milking him to spill his all into you. 

A tap of your shoulder is all the evidence you need to pull off him with a pop. You didn’t cum, it doesn’t matter, you hardly feel the mounting desperation amidst the grand scheme of things. Simon’s back hits the chair, his head tilting as he takes you in. 

“C’mere,” He grunts, pushing backwards to allow you space to stand. You oblige, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand – it only serves to smear the mess across your cheek. Your back brushes the table – he beckons you closer – until your bruised knees hit the edge of the chair. 

When he’s satisfied, his hands run up your sides, starting at your arms, then downward, so they can hook into the waistband of your shorts. You lock onto his all-consuming stare, dark with an unspoken question, his pupils blown wide with lingering lust. 

“Go ahead.” You coax. 

He nods and pulls your shorts off with one, swift movement. 

Cold air meets soaked cotton – you tremble, whether with goosebumps or the weight of his study, you don’t know. You’re the farthest thing from a blushing virgin, but Simon manages to propel you back into that bashful headspace. Every time with him is ruthless – stifling broken sobs while adjusting to his width, utter pleasure and the smallest bit of pain. 

Perhaps you’ll forgo that this time around. He’s quickly softening against his pelvis. You understand – stamina tends to dissipate after holding out for so long. Though he’s anything but a selfish lover.

He guides you to straddle his thigh. 

You squirm, hip flexors burning with the strain of splitting over the breadth of him. He keeps you steady with his hands on your waist – you clutch onto his wrists. His sleeves have rucked up to reveal his tattooed forearm. You trace the ink, reverent, requiring as much skin-to-skin as possible. It flees the fastest, that sensation, running up behind him when he exits the door. The bruises, the bites, the cramp from hitting your cervix one too many times, on the other hand – they all endure, keeping you sated long enough so that you aren’t compelled to rejoin him. He might do that on purpose, in fact. 

Your clit folds as it meets his leg – a new surge of slick spills from you. 

“A-Ah! Simon, y–” 

“I know, pet. Jus’ ride me, yeah, like that.” 

Your bottom half ruts into him, finding purchase on the solid surface of his thigh. Your panties slide, preventing the potential for divine friction, so you push them to the side, wedging it in the crevice of a lip and your pubic bone. You stutter apologies to Simon for the mess – your natural lubricant smears onto his cargo pants, sullying the fabric. He assures that he’ll wear it proudly. You’re a prouder medal than blood. 

You’re whimpering now, wailing about everything and nothing all at once with your face tucked into his neck. He embraces you – sturdiness forcing you to stunt your movements to short, hurried grinds – and says nothing. 

Something terrifying begins to burn in you; promising a cataclysm. It’s him. His scent, his strength, his size, his presence. I missed you. I missed you. Your impending orgasm crawls up the tendons in your pelvis, seeping into bone and flooding like a high tide. Your pants grow shallower. Your lungs feel cramped. Something about this, here, with him, lights every synapse in you, flashing bright with colours and promises and safety. I miss you. 

“I miss you,” You finally gasp, broken as you peer up at him. He stills – you keep your pace. Sweat beads at your temple. 

He slowly removes the mask. 

The balaclava follows soon after. 

Simon then bows down, pressing his lips to your furrowed brow. 

And then, everything in you compresses, fierce and tight. You wind your fingers into his hair, pulling his head back to bite the column of his neck. You do it to muffle the sob that bubbles when you erupt in searing agony atop him, back arching, toes curling. Your body goes completely rigid. 

He groans with the cut of your teeth, and your cunt pulsates again, spilling down on him, your fluids draining to double your mark on the man. 

“Missed you too.” Simon rustles in response. You seize his mouth with yours, uncaring for how messy it is. It’s what you need; to feel your teeth knock, to bind yourself to him. 

You kiss in him the intent to never let you go. You know it won’t last, but for now, it’s enough.

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[traumxrei-archive]

【 take me home (don’t wanna be alone anymore) 】

summary: Yuu was standing and alive, a logical part of him said. Screw being fucking logical, Leona thought spitefully, they had almost died. (or, the leonayuu mafia au where yuu almost dies and leona isn’t equipped for how that makes him feel)

word count: 1.5k | warning: suggestive content

author’s note: leonayuu except they’re both bad with feelings + in the mafia, so the only way they know how to communicate is to hurt each other. hope you enjoy ^^

[ or read on ao3 ]

It was a greeting devoid of words. Leona's eyes met theirs and his hand slipped under their shirt in an attempt to deny it. To deny the fact that Yuu had gotten injured. Yet all that Leona could feel was the expanse of bandages covering their body.

His hand mapped the wrappings, from their ribs to waist to their lower back. They winced at his grip though they kept their mouth shut while the anger burned, scalded, and tore at him.

"Off," Leona demanded, and there was a short intake of breath before their shirt was being thrown onto their bed. It was worse now that he could actually see everything.

"What the fuck," He muttered as he traced over another bandage on their arm and shoulder that he had missed.

It was...maddening. Absolutely maddening how he saw red when it came to them; when it came to the bandages scattered across their skin. Yuu was standing and alive, a logical part of him said. Screw being fucking logical, Leona thought spitefully, they had almost died.

He was sure that they were dying to speak, their sweet words of reassurance ready at the back of their throat. But before the words could escape, Leona got there first. His hand wrapped around Yuu's neck, squeezing with promise as his other hand pushed them back toward the bed. They went easily, the movements practiced though they shouldn't be. Because it was the first time he had done this, the first time that they had—

Leona forced his gaze into theirs, finding a quiet trust there. He shouldn't have felt so reassured. Bad habits always die hard, he thought as his thumb pushed Yuu's chin to the side, exposing their mercifully unmarked— unhurt— neck. His teeth itched to sink into their skin, to force them to submit, and promise that they wouldn't do something so reckless, to never disappear from his—

Yuu's throat bobbed, and raw compulsion shot through Leona like a bullet.

He caved, his lips dragging against their neck. Leona had no mind to be gentle. Not when he was seeking reassurance in the most cowardly way possible. Their heartbeat thudding under his mouth, the feel of it spiking when his teeth bit a little too hard; a little too close to tearing skin. It was all proof that they were alive. Here. Right under him. 

Cowardly, how cowardly. The crownless king who had so much but couldn't truly ever possess the one thing he wanted more than anything. Because the only way to possess a person was to cut off their wings, they were...they were Yuu.

Wonderfully vexing Yuu, whom Leona would follow to his foolish death.

"Ah–" It was the smallest sound, just a half formed thing that had barely escaped by chance, yet he greedily devoured the syllable from their lips, his fingers tangling in their hair. His other hand traced over the bandages again, the one that mapped the expanse of their side, to the one at their arm, and finally to their neck, where he knew bruises would soon bloom.

Leona pulled away, the kiss ending as abruptly as it started. The only trace that neither wanted it to end was the way their bodies were still pressed together; hovering too close to feign ignorance.

He wiped at his mouth, "Were you trying to die without my permission?" It wasn't the right thing to say. Leona knew it wasn't, but they had been playing this twisted game for so long. Ever since that day he met them in that decrepit alleyway, the day they promised to follow him with blood staining their smile. He did not know how to treat Yuu with softness, for everything they did made him burn.

"Leona," There was a half smile on those lips; this time devoid of blood. "It was an ambush. I only did what I did to keep everyone alive." Liar, Leona bit back his words. He heard that they had been targeting Yuu. And he knew it was all to get to him.

"If I didn't want you alive, I wouldn't have taken you as one of my people," Leona was surprised at how calmly his voice sounded as he spoke, even if his fingers were digging deeper into the mattress. "If I had tired of you, then maybe—"

"Leona," His brow twitched, and Yuu's hand finally brushed his hair. Did his expression betray him? "I'm sorry it escalated so far." His lips twisted into a scowl. Leona's mind couldn't help but conjure the memory yet again. 

The sirens were blaring as he pulled up to the building. It was reported to be a fire, but he knew an ambush laid in wait. Leona rushed in, gun in hand as he fought his way into the office. There were too many scattered bodies for him to see straight beyond the smoke.

And Yuu was missing. The person that had tripped the fire alarm, recklessly locking themselves in the building with the attackers.

Leona broke down the door to his office. He found it ransacked, desk full of bullet holes. There was....blood everywhere. On his chair, his papers, the couches. It was like someone wanted to make sure that everything was as bloody as it could be.

The inside of the safe was the only hiding space left to check. A numbing fear hit Leona as he entered the code. You'd think that there was no way someone could survive after losing that much blood. But against all odds, Yuu had their gun trained on the door as he entered.

Yuu had seen him.

Their eyes flickered with recognition, as their lips mouthed what was he knew was his name. And it was like their will to hold on had vanished. Their eyes slipped shut, body growing limp and already cold before he could reach them—

A warm hand touched his cheek, and he looked at them again, "If I was ever gonna die, I'll die after you die."  Something in Leona calmed considerably at the sentence. It was a platitude, plain and simple, but he couldn't shake the deep satisfied relief he felt to hear it, even if they were lying.

Leona's eyes dropped to the bandages, and again the scent of blood seemed to cloud his nose. A hand tugged at his collar and Leona was jerked closer.

Now they were frowning, "Stop it." Stop replaying it in your mind. They knew him too well for him to hide any longer.

And then they kissed him.

I'm alive, look at me, they commanded, kissing him with such bruising intensity it halted Leona's thoughts.

Stop looking at me like I'm gone, they seemed to demand, their teeth biting at his bottom lip with purpose.

They hammered the words into him, and Leona felt almost breathless at the feeling. It consumed him, until all his anger faded and all he could think about was them, their presence in front of him commanding the same gravity that the sun wielded. And Leona was nothing but a slave to their orbit, as they were to his.

There was a tremble in their hand as they held his face, a gentleness unbefitting of the aggressiveness they displayed. If he was a coward, then it seemed that they were two of a kind. Leona knew it then, as his hand brushed away a stray tear from their cheek. (Did there exist a person who was immune to the fear of death? Leona sure had never met one.)

They parted, languidly this time, and Leona lowered his head. Their hand brushed over his hair before they spoke, "My wound hurts." Leona instantly shifted his weight, lying by their side instead. "It's not your fault, dummy lion." He grunted, keeping his eyes closed as they nestled closer. They held firm onto his hands, as if they knew that they itched to run over the bandages again.

"Welcome back, Leona," Yuu murmured, the nostalgic greeting burrowing deep into his heart, finding softness where he didn't know it was capable of festering. It was late, late by the weeks it had taken for Yuu to recover and wake up, and the weeks still it took for him to track down the people who had dared to order such an operation against his right hand.

"I'm back," Leona answered, and it felt right. It was a promise, between two people whose lies would probably bite them back someday. It was was an open secret that Leona would give his life if it meant that Yuu was safe. And he was sure that Yuu would do the same, no matter how much he insisted that they shouldn’t.

But that was who they were.

Two cowards, who couldn't allow themselves the weakness of love. Two liars, guns pointed at the most vulnerable parts of each other. But for now, they were just Leona and Yuu. And they were finally home.

supplementary brainrot bc this au has been plaguing me for days:

leona’s the boss and yuu’s the right hand (and ruggie’s the left hand >:D)

the gang started off as leona, yuu, ruggie, and jack, and grew into an actual criminal organization as they grew together

in this au, leona’s family aren’t in the picture bc leona ran away from home as a teen

the reason why leona’s so protective over yuu is because they grew up together

(they met as teenagers, and after fighting n saving each other a few times, yuu does the completely normal thing of offering leona their undying loyalty, and leona responds by doing completely normal thing of telling them that they’re now 'his person’.)

+ obviously he’s madly in love with them, he just has the emotional intelligence of a grapefruit (and so does yuu. rip relationship.)

they’re both bad at admitting their feelings; leona was worried and it translated as anger, and yuu was afraid of dying, but it translated as nonchalance,,,,,they’re just little freaks (lovingly)

also songs i listened to while writing: take me home by ateez; new cydonia by starcadian; easy love by sf9; gunners in the rain by mili

thank you for reading ! if you enjoyed, check out other fics on my masterlist or ao3 <3

#/trau writes #leonayuu *ascends into the astral realm* #title from ‘take me home’ by ateez #leona kingscholar #twisted wonderland #twst #leona kingscholar x reader #leona kingscholar x mc #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader

[greatstormcat]

Going Dark

Captain John Price x GN!reader

MDNI 18+, canon typical violence

This is my submission to the lovely @glitterypirateduck challenge using the prompts: 3. A rescue takes place 9. The entire scene takes place in the dark (power outage, blackout)

The lights go out plunging the large, open plan office into darkness, shouting and cursing erupting from the armed men and women around you, their fear unmistakable.

“Fuck, they’re here,” one of them shouts, an audible tremble in their voice.

“Shut up!” someone snaps back, the metallic noise of a weapon being handled worrying close to you. “Just remember your training and shoot anything that moves.”

“How the fuck do I see them in the dark?” the first voice whines petulantly. You worm your way under the desk, your colleague’s desk, to hide. You’re the last one left, the others dragged from the room and dead for all you knew. You were most likely the last one left alive now, and you’d already said your goodbyes in your head to everyone you’d ever loved while demands were yelled over a phone to the hostage negotiators about side your office building hours before. The sun had long set since then, and you knew times was ticking towards your final moments.

The confused hubbub around you starts to settle, the lights remaining off and darkness curling around you in your little hiding space under the desk. That is until the world explodes in a shower of glass and ear shattering noise around you. Gunfire peels around you, no matter how hard you press your palms over your ears and squeezed your eyes shut. It felt like the end of the world, and maybe it was, until the sounds suddenly stop and all you can hear is your own ragged breathing and the blood thundering through your head.

You stay still, frozen like a rabbit in headlights in your cramped space, until something touches your trembling knee and you flinch, smashing the top of your head against the desk above you and sending sparks across your vision.

“Easy now, you’re okay,” a deep voice says incredibly softly. You blink your eyes, the darkness blinding you but you’re certain if you could see everything would be swimming after that knock.

“Don’t kill me,” you plead to the unseen speaker, voice thick with fear.

“I’m one of the good guys,” the voice reassures you, and you feel a hand on your forearm gently gripping you and tugging you out from your hiding space. “Out you come,” he insists firmly, and you find yourself following his instructions and kneel on the ground beside the desk instead of crouching under it.

You can’t see him in the dark, the light filtering through the windows doing nothing to show you anything other than where the outside is. There’s a faint green light though, hovering just in front of you, and that’s when you understand.

“You’ve got those night vision things on? So you can see where you are?” you whisper, frowning. There’s a soft chuckle, and you hear him shift again and the green glow moves with the sound.

“Affirmative,” he says. “I can see them, but they can’t see me. That’s why we cut the power, it gives us an edge.”

The pale glow moves around, dipping out of sight and returning, and you assume he is looking around the room. You can only imagine the scene, the furniture thrown around, bodies on the floor… you shudder.

“D’you know your way around here?” he asks, with the same gruff but calm tone.

“Yes, I’ve worked here for years,” you answer, wishing you could see as well as he can right now. Your limbs begin to tremble, and you rub your hands together to try and keep them still. “What’s… I mean, can I ask your name?” You blurt out, teeth chattering slightly and head pounding.

“Captain Price,” he answers and you hear him get up, his equipment rustling and rattling slightly. “Up you get, let’s get you out of here.” You feel a large hand grab your wrist, the rough fabric of a glove scratching at your skin as he tugs you upwards. Your hand is pressed against something firmly. “There’s a handle there on my pack, hold that and don’t let go. That way we won’t get separated.”

“Okay, got it,” you mumble.

You barely have time to wrap your fingers around the padded material before he moves and tugs you along with him. You shuffle your feet until you manage to find a way to follow that doesn’t have you bumping into him like a straggling toddler. You quietly guide him to the door to the hallway, and tell his how to reach the stairs, but you have a suspicion he knows where he is going anyway and is just trying to give you something to think about.

There’s a loud noise to your left as you stagger down the hallway towards the stairs, and your rescuer spins towards it, pulling you down to the ground in a frightening show of reactions and speed. Blindly and clumsily you have no option but to sprawl on the floor, just a fraction of a second before bullets tear out on an opened doorway towards you.

Thankfully you manage to stifle your startled cry, but you’re sure everyone can hear the hammering of your heart over the rattling of bullets. Price shifts position and pulls you across the floor after him before, to your abject horror, straddling your chest. Thick, heavily muscled thighs encapsulate your torso, pinning you underneath him as he fires back at the attacker.

The darkness is all consuming apart from where light flares from the muzzle of the opposed weapons. In a daze of confusion and possible concussion from hitting the ground, you look up. You catch fractions glimpses of military equipment, a web of straps and pockets, above that a helmeted head and those night vision goggles. A beard pokes from beneath.

Too late you realise your hands have come to rest on those thighs, and your fingers have anchored onto a matched pair of straps across them. Probably a set of fun holsters, you tell yourself, but it’s comforting to have something solid to hold. As he tenses against the recoil of his weapon you can feel his body tense and shift, and a tiny part of your brain wonders how that would compare to him doing other activities.

The firing stops and a horrible rattling, wheezing fills the ringing silence, followed by a thump. You thank the darkness for concealing yet another dead body from you.

“You okay down there?” Price asks, and tries to move but your grip on his holster jerks him back. “C’mon, you’re okay. Let go now, nice and easy,” he says softly. You feel gloved hands peeling your numb fingers away one by one until he can move off of you, and the absence of his weight makes your anxiety spike.

“Sorry… I… um…. All the gunfire….” you babble, trying to quell the rising tide of emotion.

“Don’t worry, it’s not something I expect you to handle all that well. Just remember, you’re my mission right now. I’m here to get you out of here in one piece, so just stick close to me and do what I say, when I say,” he says, his tone calm and authoritative without making him sound unkind. One gloved hand pulls you up to your feet, and then squeezes the top of your arm in a comforting gesture.

“I bet you say that to all the hostages you rescue,” you burble in an attempt to sound less terrified, but your voice is brittle, betraying the absolute absence of bravery in you right now.

“No,” he chuckles, “just the special ones.” He actually sounds genuinely amused by your attempt at bravado, and you smile foolishly before remembering that while you cannot see him, he absolutely can see you. You’re sure you hear a soft chuff of a laugh as your expression changes to humiliation.

“Right… well… let’s get going then before anyone else jumps out,” you managed to say, the hint of a smile playing on your lips which you really hope he isn’t seeing. 

“Right you are then, love,” he replies, and that word has you snapping your head back towards him. He places your hand on his back again and starts heading towards the stairs. Flirting with a heavily armed man who has come to rescue you seems a really stupid idea, but he doesn’t seem all that bothered about it. If anything, it feels like he is enjoying it.

The cavernous space of the emergency stairwell opens, the dim emergency lights providing just enough light to stop you from falling down the steps and breaking your neck as you move quickly down behind the Captain. He lifts the goggles but keeps you behind him so you aren’t shielded by his enormous bulk. Now you can see him, you appreciate just how huge he is.

“We need to cross the main foyer to get you to safety, so keep behind me still. Okay?” 

“Yes, sure thing,” you answer and stop trying to peer at him. You get a hint of blue eyes above the beard, but it’s impossible to see much more as he keeps you moving. The door opens and you are quickly marched through the destruction that is left of your building's main foyer, furniture strewn around and smashed, the big windows blown smashed to pieces, and the glare of giant lamps and emergency light shining through them like supernovas.

“Nearly there now, c’mon,” he chivvies you up as you squint at the lights ahead, struggling to adjust after the near total darkness. As you pass outside to the cold night air Price pulls you forward and pushes you towards a waiting paramedic. The paramedic wraps you in a shiny blanket, as though you’d just finished running the marathon and not survived a life or death situation, and urges you towards the back of the ambulance nearby. You look back, your heart dropping as you realise Price has left your side already and is walking away towards three other tall figures.

“Wait, wait where did he go?” you blurt out as Price vanishes into the crowd of bodies and flashing lights. Police officers mill about, and you spot a few tall figures in military garb, but you lose sight of them quickly. “No, I want to talk to him,” you insist, throat burning with a sense of loss at the fact that you didn’t get to see his face properly.

A few weeks pass, life returning to its humdrum routine. Your bosses find a temporary place for everyone to work from after giving everyone that survived the attack two weeks paid leave. You find your thoughts constantly returning to Price, hearing his voice in your sleep every single night, especially those nights where the nightmares take hold. He always turns up, guiding you to safety, the feel of his solid body against yours a burning sensation. You feel ashamed, but more than once you wake up with your blood rushing through your veins and a deep, urgent ache in your stomach. 

You’ve lost count of how many times you chase that feeling in the dead of night, the darkness around you allowing you to imagine that hidden face taking you all the way to your peak in your sweat soaked sheets. As you sit in the coffee shop, your face warms as you absentmindedly stir your drink and ponder exactly what your hidden rescuer looked like, until the light from the window dims. You look up and see a body silhouetted against the bright sunlight, looking down at you. A beard covering his cheeks and a beanie hat pulled down over his ears.

“Mind if I join you, love?” A familiar, deep voice asks, and your heart nearly stops as you gawp up at him.

“Please do, Captain,” you smile.

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

Taglist lovelies:

@thriving-n-jiving @iloveslasher @thecubanator2 @bossva @xxladysquishyxx @murder-hobo @aulescev @tiredmetalenthusiast @haurasha @evolutionarry @lunamoonbby @cryingpages @yawning-grave81 @daniblogs164 @rantingraquel @waves-against-a-cliff @letmelickyoureyeballs @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago @thatonepupkai @anubisisthebomb @beebeechaos @ladyxtiger @ashy-kit @meepmeepmeep1011111 @cassiecasluciluce @confuseddipshit @mandythemint @ihatethinkingofnames10 @torchbearerkyle @jinxxangel13 @darkangel4121 @cringeycookies @ttsbaby01 @supernaturalstilinski @thesinsoflust @lovifie @hayleybarnesx @katzykat @airyonna15 @hxnneydew @oyaoyaoyaoyaoyaoyaoyaoya @callsign-pyro @neoarchipelago @kaoyamamegami @dij-ology @blush-haze @imkumichan

#cod modern warfare #cod mw22 #cod mw2 #cod mwii #captain price mw2 #john price #captain price #captain john price #captain johnathan price #cod price #cod price x reader #john price cod #captain price x you #captain price x reader #john price mw2 #john price x reader #john price x you #price mw2 #price cod #price call of duty #price x reader #price x you #gn!reader #x gn!reader #price x gn reader #captain john price x reader #ocaptainchallenge #cod mw3 #cod 141 #cod fandom

[autumneldermore]

Hey guys, IRL Autumn here. As much as I'd love to be here with my usual jokes, This is something much more serious.

For those who don't know, the UK government has recently announced plans to cut Disabled benefits by 4.6K a year if a person isn't or won't find a work from home position.

To massively simplify the current system, Disabled benefits have 2 levels of pay, depending on your capacity for work. Those who are deemed fully incapable of work get full pay, and those who can work part time, or in a select few low impact workplaces get half pay.

The new system would require everyone no matter where they lay on that scale to find employment. For the thousands, if not millions of people that have been declared fully incapable of work, this means bending over backwards for an impossible task.

And the pay cut for those who "refuse" to comply (which in reality is the vast majority being completely unable to comply to impossible demands) is not an insignificant amount.

That is a payment reduction of over half of what that person currently recieves. An amount that already is barely sufficient to survive on.

Being disabled is inherently expensive, be it due to needing specialized equipment, specific transport needs or even specific needs in general day-to-day living.

This is not a scheme to help the current system which is admittedly underfunded. This is a system designed to force disabled people to sacrifice themselves for an unsustainable system, or die trying.

And believe me, there will be death.

This is a deliberate target of some of the most vulnerable people in our society.

This is not "toughing through the hard times for the good of the country"

This is a slaughter.

#disability #uk politics #IRL #abelism #benefits

[ellamrfr]

#market research future #cutting equipment market sales #cutting equipment demand #cutting equipment companies #cutting tools

[mxauthor]

Creativity

Summary: Y/n is a photographer and Spencer is a great model.

Word Count: 1,135

Warnings: fluff, kisses, probably false statistics, giggly spence at the end.

November 4th. 

That was the deadline of when Y/n’s assignment was due. 

That date was one week away and she had no idea what the hell she was going to do. The whole class was given three weeks to complete the assignment and Y/n was running out of time. 

She’s an aspiring photographer.

Several of her works have been published in magazines and have won many contests. She even has a website dedicated to her photos as well as other young photographers wanting to pursue their passions. 

However, most of her clients don’t want an amatrue to take any of their photos, hence the course. Even though her boyfriend, Spence, has rattled off statics about not needing classes to become a photographer; it still made her feel better: more official

But now, her photography course is requiring her to submit new artwork instead of some of her old pieces. The professor said he ‘wanted to put their learning to use and catch something they’ve never thought of before.’ 

Y/n hated it. She was hitting deadend after deadend. Everything she’s shot is within her comfort zone, not new. 

With a loud groan Y/n threw her head back on the couch she was perched on. Spencer only rounded the end the moment she was looking up at their light tan ceiling. 

“Still can’t find anything?” Spencer asked. His tone knowing the answer, but wanting to be caring still. 

“Not a thing.” Y/n replied, enunciating every word in the sentence. Spencer looked at her with a sympathetic look. Knowing the frustration not being able to achieve something. 

He thought about the requirements of the assignment, having told him once she first got it. Spence wanted to help, he really did, but it was the first time he’s drawn a blank. 

“I have no clue what to do. All the photos I’ve taken are like the ones I’ve taken before.” Y/n raised her head and looked at her boyfriend of a year. “Nothing new, nothing that’s caught my eye.” 

“You know statically, most photographers set up their master photos. All of them have been staged and made to look candid. A lot of the photographs that I’ve studied since you’ve started your classes I’ve noticed that a lot of the items seemed to be perfectly placed. Just like it was made to be a photoshoot of some sort. While a lot of your works are within the moment, scenery or candid of people.” Spencer rambled. Y/n watched him intently as he talked, never liking to cut him off once he started, “So I believe that your professor is asking you to do something of the sort, to make a piece that you have to stage. I would suggest using someone that you are comfortable with, which will trigger a higher dopamine output as well as a higher serotonin that allows cognitive flexibility and an increase in mood.” 

Y/n looked at Spence. A sparkle within her eye that Spencer knew to be trouble. 

“Comfortable, staged and someone I know.” Y/n summarized, Spencer nodded along enthusiastically, always touched when someone listened to him all the way through. 

“Yep.” 

“Well then, pretty boy, I just found my client.” Y/n said, her eyes sparking with, what Spence can only describe as creativity. And lust. 

The nickname alone should’ve told him that he wasn’t going to like this idea nor was he going to be the most comfortable with it. However, when Y/n had jumped up from her seat and started to set up her equipment with a huge smile on her face, Spence couldn’t really say no. 

Y/n had placed one of their kitchen chairs in the living room (after she moved everything out of the way). Claiming that it was perfect. Her lights and camera were setup to where he supposed was his place in all of this. 

He watched with a little nervousness as he stood in a white button down and some black pants. He was demanded asked to change from his comfortable warm pajamas, into this more serious ‘photo worthy’ outfit. 

“Okay now, I need you to sit in the chair and I’ll be right back.” Y/n commanded, her voice left no place to argue.

So Spencer sat down. Patting his legs while he waited for the final piece of this photoshoot.

About 2 minutes had gone by before Y/n walked out, red lipstick painted on her lips. As well as a tub in her hand. If he looked close enough, he could see kiss marks on her hands, some more faint and one very vibrant. 

Spencer studied the way Y/n walked up to him. Almost like she was trying to seduce in a way. As she got closer, Spence could see a smirk playing on her lips. 

“What are you-” Before the genius could actually ask his question, Y/n had kissed him. 

His brain short circuited. His IQ is now at 60. 

It took a second before he kissed back, before it could get more heated Y/n pulled back. She studied the lipstick print on her boyfriend, liking how well it was placed. 

Spencer’s face had flushed, he stared at her surprised, trying to understand what’s happening. 

Before he could ask Y/n started talking, “The assignment is to do something new. To try and incorporate all of the lessons we’ve learned up into now. As you’ve said all of my past works were either scenery or candid photos. Something that has just happened or there for anyone to see. What I’m doing here is different. This is a photoshoot, not candid. You are normally sophisticated and well cleaned, however at this moment your unshaven and floppy hair. As well as dressed in something more date-casual.” 

Spencer tried computing everything that was said, only to realize what she meant. His flush grew a little as Y/n looked at him for a silent ask, him nodding his answer. 

She started to unbutton the top four buttons of his shirt. Spence started to grow even redder as Y/n started to kiss all over his neck, face and chest. 

He felt like he couldn’t breathe, all this attention and kisses making him hot.

But one thing is that he couldn’t stop smiling. Neither of them could. Y/n’s kisses varied in shape and size, trying hard to control the smiles on her face. Spencer giggled and flushed until she stopped. 

Y/n looked at the lipstick marks with a proud smile and a flush of her own. Giddy to take the pictures. 

“Okay hold still.” Y/n commanded, trying to capture him flush and giddy. 

Trying to catch her Spencer, the goof ball that’s in love with her, in a living memory.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fluff #reader #xreader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #x fem reader #spencer reid x fem reader #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x fem reader #spencer reid one shot #criminal minds fic #x reader #mx works

[capricorn-0mnikorn]

Heard this morning (27 March, 2023) A transcript for this piece is not yet up. They're usually up in a couple of days.

~3 minute listen.

This one right-to-repair law got through in just one state, because the lawmaker who introduced it narrowed its focus down from "The right of everybody to repair anything" (too many businesses to lobby against that) to "the right of wheelchair users to repair their own wheelchairs."

On the one hand it's great. On the other hand, it's a reminder of how marginalized we are in society.

Next thing to fight for: the right of farmers to repair their own farm equipment.

One state's gotten started. Forty-nine to go...

Transcript is now up. I've put the full thing under the cut.

MICHEL MARTIN, HOST:

Somewhere on your list of life's annoyances is probably this - manufacturers who won't let customers fix products themselves. Some states are pushing back with right-to-repair laws. Andrew Kenney from Colorado Public Radio visited with one of the first people to use a new right-to-repair law for powered wheelchairs.

(SOUNDBITE OF WHEELCHAIR WHIRRING)

ANDREW KENNEY, BYLINE: Bruce Goguen, who's 68, has used his powered wheelchair for so long that it feels like an extension of himself. He has multiple sclerosis, which affects his speech.

BRUCE GOGUEN: I just think of it as legs, as being my legs.

KENNEY: And that means when he got a new chair last year, every detail had to be right, like the speed of its different modes. His wife, Robin Bolduc, says each one of those adjustments required a visit from an authorized technician. It took weeks.

ROBIN BOLDUC: We would have to call someone, make an appointment, have them come out and say, gee, I'd like to change it so we're walking just a little bit faster.

KENNEY: On one of those visits, Robin realized that the technician wasn't using some specialized device to change the settings. It was a smartphone app. She even found it on the App Store, but it was only available for authorized users.

BOLDUC: Well, I want the app. And he was like, you can't have the app. But I want the app.

KENNEY: That would've been the end of the road, except that Robin and Bruce knew that Colorado's new wheelchair right-to-repair to repair law had just gone into effect. Representative Brianna Titone is the sponsor of the new law. Back in 2021, she originally proposed a much broader bill that would've applied to computers, cellphones and more. That meant an uphill fight against lobbyists for everything from hospitals to tech giants.

BRIANNA TITONE: So I did not win that fight. I lost that fight pretty bad. So that's why the following year, we pared it back to the people who really deserve to have this right. And that were the people who were in wheelchairs.

TITONE: The narrower, wheelchair-focused law passed the legislature last year with the help of advocates like Bruce and Robin. Once it went into effect on New Year's Day, Robin called the manufacturer to demand access to their app.

BOLDUC: They were not prepared. Right. Which - understandably, we're the only state. And it was day one, right? So they were not prepared.

KENNEY: In a committee hearing last year, Tonya Hammatt of National Seating and Mobility, a wheelchair vendor, warned state lawmakers that power wheelchairs are too complex for DIY jobs.

(SOUNDBITE OF ARCHIVED RECORDING)

TONYA HAMMATT: This bill will allow anyone to perform complex repairs to power wheelchairs, which may lead to negative outcomes for the end user.

KENNEY: But after Robin showed Bruce's wheelchair's maker the text of the law, they agreed, sending out two staffers to get the family set up with the internal software.

BOLDUC: They gave me the code to get into the app. We played around. We programmed.

KENNEY: The couple have been tweaking the wheelchair's different modes, searching for the perfect speed for Robin to jog alongside Bruce or the right settings for a steep walking trail.

GOGUEN: It's wonderful. It's very wonderful.

KENNEY: And their success could have broader effects. They've been told the manufacturer is working on a public-facing app for everyone else who wants to use it. The company didn't respond to a request for comment. Meanwhile, right-to-repair laws are gaining momentum around the country, says Kevin O'Reilly of the advocacy group PIRG.

KEVIN O'REILLY: We think that this first bill was the crack in the dam that we needed.

KENNEY: That includes a new bill from Representative Titone that guarantees similar rights for farmers to repair their increasingly high-tech tractors and other equipment. It's poised to clear the state legislature in a matter of weeks. For NPR News, I'm Andrew Kenney.

(SOUNDBITE OF EDAPOLLO'S "BY THE RIVER")

#right to repair #wheelchairs #npr morning edition #colorado

[dollita-fawn]

Sweet Surrender

pairings- Albert Wesker x Fem! Reader

content warnings - 1k ish words of pure smut, knife play, fear play, edging, CNC (consensual non consensual), bondage, predator-prey themes, use of pet names, pussy spanking, clit nipping?? (idk wtf to call that), bits of praise and degrading, unprotected sex ❦

a/n- writing this gave me an idea for something else. gonna go crazy with that one…

as always this is not proofread so lmk !!

𝖽𝗂𝗏𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝗒 𝖼𝖺𝖿𝖾𝗄𝗂𝗍𝗌𝗎𝗇𝖾 // title ib ‘thinking of you’ - a perfect circle

Hands grab at your ankles, dragging you toward the edge of the bed. "Now, now…” Wesker clicks his tongue in a teasing manner, grinning down at your powerless being. “What have I told you about running?”

You plead and beg for him to free you in the way that makes him feral. But he’s not going to let you go until he’s finished with you.

Rope binds your hands behind your back. Even if you mustered up the strength, you wouldn’t be able to slither your way out.

Completely at his mercy you lay in nothing more than your thin clothed panties.

“It didn’t have to be this way, bunny. If only you’d have been a good girl and obeyed.” The kicking of your legs comes to a halt at the sight of the weapon he equips. “Now I advise you quit your struggling.” A straight edge knife. Looks like it was taken straight from your kitchen.

This wasn’t part of what you agreed upon. But there was still the safeword you established prior.

You were partially tempted to use it now.

True fear sets in as the blades cool edge traces your inner thigh. You go still, but your breath picks up, shaking with every exhale. “Good…” he draws out the word, his voice lowering. “Lie there just like that and I won’t have to hurt you. Don’t even say a word.”

It drags up your soft flesh. He adds the slightest bit of pressure but it’s not enough to cut.

Wesker’s eyes flick between yours and the position of his hands. It fills him with a strong surge of power seeing the way your lower lip quivers, the dilation of your pupils as he nears your most sacred place.

“Such a delicate thing you are,” he chuckles, drawing the knife’s point to the edge of your underwear. “Your little heart must be racing, hm?”

You just looked so vulnerable. Your reactions were real, less of an act to satisfy his dark nature. God did it make him throb.

Your mouth opens to speak, but then the sharp steel cuts through the side of the remaining fabric covering you. It makes you flinch, your teeth gritted in a wince.

Pain was anticipated, but you didn’t receive even a nick. He was flawless with it.

“Trust in me, bunny,” he gives you that look, soft and reassuring yet menacing.

Of course you trusted him. You trusted him with your life. It was just new. New and terrifyingly erotic.

He teases your clit through the half holding cloth, making it all the more difficult to stay still as told. Your legs tremble at the sensation, but you don’t dare squirm beyond that.

The blade again cuts through your panties in a quick motion. They’re pulled the rest of the way off by Wesker, revealing just how wet you’ve become. Practically drooling between your legs for him.

You look away as his eyes bore into yours, feeling exposed.

Wesker takes it into his hands, tilting your chin back toward him and holding you there at knifepoint. “Shying away from me now? Ashamed I can see just how much of a dirty girl you are?”

Finally, he puts the weapon down, but only to torment you with his hands instead.

He drags a finger through your slick, pulling back to see the sticky string it trails. This whole altercation got you both bad. He can’t hardly keep from palming himself through his pants as he toys with you.

“Spread for me, bunny.” he demands as your thighs begin to clench together. Seems his teasing made you overwhelmingly sensitive.

When you hesitate, the palm of his hand comes down in a harsh slap against your clit. You whimper in both pleasure and pain, spreading your legs immediately. “Listen the first time and I won’t have to do that,” he reminds. “Just be a good girl and obey.”

“sorry I-“

“Ah, ah,” he interrupts, again striking your puffy cunt. “Not a word, remember?”

Words leave you anyway as his mouth comes down to latch onto you. His tongue drags along your hole, taking in all your filthy juices. His nose delves in against your clit making it impossible to focus on anything other than the tightening of your stomach as you clench around nothing.

His lips suck and kiss through your ever flowing pool of need, head shaking side to side with fervor. He moans and groans against your pussy, getting lost in your scent. Your taste.

Hands push his pants and boxers down, letting his cock spring free from its confines.

His fist balls over the tip, thumb rubbing over the upper half in hurried strokes as his mouth continues to devour you.

Everytime your thighs start to close, his teeth nip at your clit. A fair warning that if you continue, he’ll have to punish you.

He sloppily makes out with your cunt until your voice reaches that familiar pitch and your legs go stiff. Signs of your incoming orgasm are all too obvious to him.

He stops just as that coil is about to be set loose.

You whine out in frustration, but he’s quick to make it up to you.

His hands grip your hips, rolling you onto your stomach. He pulls you by your ankles once more to the edge of the bed so you’re slightly hanging off, giving him perfect access to your neglected heat.

There was no time for patience in his mind. His cock was far too hard to ignore.

He guides the head into your tight entrance, stifling a guttural groan as you swallow him whole. He pushes forward, filling you suddenly and extracting your voice again.

Your arms wriggle behind you beneath the restraints. He stabilizes himself, gripping onto the rope that binds you. Every time he thrusts it rubs you the wrong way, irritating your skin. But you can’t do anything about it. You just lay there as his fuck doll.

“Messy little girl,” he grunts, his weight bearing down on your backside. “You were made just for me…”

He doesn’t acknowledge how rough he’s being with you. He hears your cries and it sends him into a frenzy. His brain is only focused on one thing. Stuffing you full of his seed.

And that’s exactly what he does.

Spurts of sticky white flood into you, his voice a pathetic symphony of whines as he shatters. He keeps fucking through it despite how much his body is twitching, muscles convulsing and throbbing from the overwhelming pressure release.

Not to mention the fluttering of your walls as you reach your breaking point. You suffocate his cock, making his jaw slack open, breaths heaving hot and short.

It’s too much for him and he weakens, not even bothering to pull out as he falls on top of you.

His eyes close, face burying itself in the crook of your neck as he attempts (failing) to simmer down.

#albert wesker #albert wesker x you #albert wesker x reader #tw.dark content #smut #resident evil #resident evil wesker #resident evil x reader smut #resident evil x reader #albert wesker smut #wesker x you #wesker x reader #re wesker

[petsdenonne]

hi!! may i request some arkham knight jason smut with a lot of oral? 👀

Should’ve listened

Pairing: ArkhamKnight!Jason x Fem!Reader

Warnings: SMUT 18+, Gun against jaw (for a second in a non-sexual scene), Oral, brief mention of church, semi-public sex.

Word Count: 1,426

Summary: After zoning out at a bad time, you come to learn that maybe it isn’t bad after all.

Authors note: oh my god, I forgot how feral I am for AK!Jason, like ugh, I went down a little rabbit hole of research to refresh my brain after writing so much RH!Jason and I’m sure glad I did. Thank you, Anon 💕 Gonna have to play Batman: Arkham knight again even though I’ve already finished it.

✨MASTERLISTS✨

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Your breathing faltered as the air got caught in your throat at the sight of him, your heartbeat ringing loudly in your ears. You had heard others talking about him, and you’d seen photos and videos in the media, but none of them had quite done him any sort of justice.

You couldn’t even see his face, it being covered by a full helmet with bat ears and an LED panel front, yet you were still intrigued. 

The way he walked and carried himself, the way his body language demanded respect, and how his voice came out all husky and modified through the modulator had a dampness forming in your underwear. 

You shook your head a little to try to clear the thoughts swarming your mind, thoughts you definitely should not in any circumstances be thinking about the Arkham Knight- 

“Did you just shake your head no?” His voice abruptly cut in.

Oh, shit. 

Your head shake had been a lot stronger than you had intended for it to be, causing him to think that you were disagreeing with what he had been saying to the group of mercenaries present tonight, which you had zoned out of to focus on what his hands might feel like on your body, so you had no idea what you had even accidentally said no to. 

“No”

“No? Are you sure?” 

“Maybe?”

Scoffing he pushed past a couple of people to get to where you were standing in the back row, looming over you as he closed the gap between you intimidatingly. 

“I said that I am going to hand-pick people present here for my personal squad tonight, and you thinking that you have a say of your own makes you target number one, you shaking your head no, thinking you have freewill means you’re stuck to my side tonight… Say no to me again, and I’m going to make you wish you don’t even have a head to shake next time. Am I clear?”

“Yes” You said under your breath, distracted by how close he was to you. If you were brave enough you could reach out and touch him, run your hands along the armoured plating on his chest. 

“Excuse me? Speak up” You only registered what he had said as you felt the cold barrel of his gun press into the underside of your jaw, the metal digging into your skin a little bit.

“Yes” You repeated, this time a lot louder “Yes, you are clear.”

—-------------

Oh, of course, the one day you mess up and get forced to stick to Arkham Knight’s side is the one where he decides he is going to stand on a random Gotham rooftop and overlook the city. 

You’d never really been that fond of heights, not since you’d fallen off that wall at school and broken your left arm in three places. This must have been God’s way of punishing you for not going to church since you’d flown the nest. 

To your right, you could see him in your peripheral setting up some sort of equipment quickly and gracefully like he had done it a thousand times before, which you realised he probably had when you turned to look at what it was and saw that it was a sniper tripod. His fingers worked smoothly to set up the rifle and attach it to the joint. As a bone-biting breeze blew through you, you began to rub your arms a little to try to generate some sort of warmth, walking over to where he was working as you began to feel a little dizzy from how close you were to the edge, you really didn’t need to be fainting and going over. 

The thought made you dry heave a little which caused him to stop working momentarily. His hands paused as if he was listening to see if you were going to throw up. 

“Sit” He instructed bluntly as his hands again began to move, a small tut under his breath as one of the parts didn’t quite click in as it should. 

Blinking a couple of times you stayed standing for a few seconds before you immediately began to move so your arse was on the asphalt as he turned to look at you, even though you weren’t able to see his eyes you could feel them burning into you. 

“Good” a small huff sounded through his modulator “Now stay there. I don’t have time to scrape you off of the pavement” 

You don’t know why you did it, but you scoffed at that statement. As soon as it left your mouth you could feel the air around you tense up, oh shit. 

“Excuse me?” Standing up, he walked over so that he was towering over you. Making you feel like an ant against him, the flickering LED display of his helmet causing a sense of unease to burrow deep into your gut “Up. Now. Get over there.” 

—--------

You knew the Arkham Knight liked to punish those who went against him, liked to torture them until they were so out of it that even prayers and begging wouldn’t pass their lips anymore, because they knew they were already in hell. 

When he told you to get up and move you were convinced you were about to go over the edge of the roof, he said he didn’t want to scrape you off of the pavement, but that doesn’t mean that he wouldn’t cause the mess himself. You hadn’t ever pictured his punishments as…this.

The cold night’s air that had been cutting at your face earlier on was now cutting at your bare arse and pussy, soothing the aching handprint now present on your behind, the firm smack noise and burning sting making you aware that the handprint was now a pair. His fingers lightly rubbed against the growing welt to soothe it a little before tracing down the back of your thigh as he knelt down behind you, making you bend further over the air conditioning unit that was currently supporting your body weight. 

“Keep your head forward” He demanded, not wanting to piss him off more you obeyed, keeping your eyes locked on the city view as you heard his helmet release and slide off of his head, there was a slight heavy noise as he placed it down- fuck. 

Holy shit.

Your focus was interrupted by the feeling of his tongue gliding through your folds, teasingly skipping over your clit as he went. You could feel him gripping onto your thighs as he repeated the path a couple of times before he finally focused in on the bundle of nerves. Closing his lips around it he began to suck, gently at first but quickly growing in force. A whimper-like moan left your lips, causing him to spank you again “Shut up.” 

Without his helmet on you could hear his voice for what it actually was. Liquid gold. 

A thick Gotham accent with a husky tone to it, you didn’t really care for the specifics of his voice too much, you just know it added to the growing pressure in your stomach. 

Whilst you had been distracted by what he sounded like he had decided that he was done being soft, and was now going to eat you like a starved man.

His tongue lapped at your wetness before pushing deep into you, his calloused thumb moving to circle your clit to help you reach your peak faster. Hard breathy moans vibrated into your pussy as he went, causing you to moan louder than before, but this time he didn’t silence you. Because this time he would be a hypocrite. 

As you tilted your head down slightly to try to not lose yourself you could see that he had unbuckled his trousers and the tact straps that usually kept his pistols on his thighs so he could pull his trousers and boxers down to his knees, his hard cock currently trapped in his tight fist as he pumped in time with his tongue moving in and out of you. 

The sight made you hit your high, releasing over his mouth and chin as you let out a strangled groan, after a few short moments you’d hear a similar noise but deeper, more masculine, before the asphalt where he was kneeling was glazed in his own spend. 

“I think you should be a brat more often, Doll” He said as he kissed your inner thighs.

His boyish cocky grin would be ingrained in your brain until you died.

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#dc #jason todd #red hood #arkham knight jason #jason todd smut #jason todd x you #jason todd x reader #jason todd fanfiction #red hood x reader #red hood smut #arkham knight x reader

[itscherrylipsforme]

Paper cuts and cheek kisses: Minho tmr x Med jack!fem!reader

Summary: Minho was never one to go the med jacks' cabin often. On the contrary actually, you had to drag him into it whenever he got hurt in order to patch him up. Oh girl, but things changed when you two started dating, and now he comes up with the silliest excuses just to see your face. At least being his fave med jack means some special treatment

Warnings: None, except that Minho is madly in love and reader is slightly sarcastic (got it from her mother, aka me)

Requested: yes

Words: Around 1300

Author's rambles: As someone who had the biggest crush on Minho growing up (Who I want to fool with this? I still do) and who imagined her role in the Maze would be med jack this request was so cute to write. Hope you like it!

Masterlist Characters I write for

Likes and reblogs are appreciated ღ

I do not authorize any of my works to be copied, translated or plagiarized ✗

Everyone needed to prove their worth in the maze, from the youngest and oldest boys to you, the only girl. And being honest, your passed that test with excellent marks. Living in a place full of the most stubborn and reckless shanks you have ever known (not that you remembered meeting anyone before them, but that was not the point) proving that you were strong enough wasn’t a choice, but a need. However, most of them shown them a new kind of strength they hadn’t seem until then. The strength you used to calm Chuck down when he was crying during his first night in the glazeThe strength which was necessary to always be the one who introduced first to new greenies, to do it with a sincere smile as saying “Yeah, this place is a clunk, but it’s our clunk. Our place”. The same one that helped you become a med-jack.

You loved your role, somehow you were really good at it as the girl you were before being trapped there had some knowledge about it. But you would be lying if you said it didn’t have its downsides, one of them being… Well, him.

“Minho, slinthead, go to the med-jack's cabin right now. That cut doesn’t look good” you demanded as soon as you saw him on the gardens talking with Newt after he came back from the maze.

“Nice to see you too, princess” That condescending pet names he used on you, you swear one day your eyes would fall from your face just because of the times you had rolled them. Since your first day you had to deal with his teasing (not flirting, as you had corrected Newt when he asked about it once) “And don’t worry, Clint and Jeff already saw it and told me it was fine as long as I cleaned today in the shower”

“Clint and Jeff only let you get away with no treating any of your wound properly because they are scared you will fight them if they said otherwise” You crossed your arms “Unfortunately for you, you don’t have the same effect on me. To the cabin, now. I will be the one who binds it”

“You are lucky I can’t say no to you, darling” He started following you towards the med-jack’s, not without smiling sheepishly first.

Sitting in the hammock, Minho looked at your face as you gently rubbed a cotton soaked in iodine. So focused on your work and yet so beautiful, he thought to himself. He was enjoying the view, but your words snapped him from his thoughts.

“Can I ask why the hell you never want us to see your injuries?”

“Pretty girl, you are smart, way more than me, but you don’t get me. It’s not that I don’t want you to do your job, I have my reasons for it” He smirked, if he wasn’t so stupid sometimes you would admit he looked handsome right now.

“Please, enlighten me” You turned around to look for the necessary equipment to patch him up.

“Do you know that before you arrived, I never protested when it came to the med-jacks? That Clint or Jeff would treat me, and I wouldn’t utter a word?”

“If that is your way of saying that I am bad at my job, you should be more careful. Do I have to remind you that I am the one here who has a scalpel nearby?”

You were so done with his shit, if you remembered right there was a phrase that said something like “Don’t bite the hand that feeds you” and same way he shouldn’t annoy the person who was responsible for his health. The scalpel thing was a joke, more or less, but you were starting to rethink it.

“Not really darling” He chuckled, and you found yourself liking the sound of it “Maybe I just convinced Clint and Jeff to wait to heal this because I knew you wouldn’t want me to be injured. So, you would take me then and I would get to spend some time with my favourite med-jack”

“You are unbearable” And you were completely sure you mean what you said, but you couldn’t bring yourself not to smile at his silly plan “Please, tell me you didn’t get the cut just to see me” You asked while wrapping his strong (Were you thinking about that right now? Really?) arm with the bandage.

“You shouldn’t think too low of me, y/n” He shook his head “The injury was an accident, Newt came up with the plan when he saw it on the Garden”

“I knew that you couldn’t come up with all of that on your own” You smirked and stared at him. Had his eyes always been that deep or was the light that passed through the windows what made them look like that? “By the way, the patch up is done, just be sure you don’t drench it and come her to change it every two days until it scars. I would also recommend that you take a day off running, but you would ignore me anyway, and I won’t waste my saliva”

“You look really good when you are mad at someone, has anyone ever told you that?” He blurted out, not even thinking it twice, and he was surprised when instead of telling him to fuck off you blushed. Neither of you had expected it. You needed a few seconds to recover your mind and your ability to speak.

“Whatever, you can go now” You hadn’t realized how close you had been to him until then “Come on, what are you expecting? A good job sticker or something?”

“I have a better plan in mind” Another smirk, his hands guiding yours to rest on his shoulders, his comfortably around your waist. His face coming closer to yours, threatening to close the gasp… Woah, you had to admit that this bastard was handsome. And finally, his lips on yours. Slightly nervous at first, as he was afraid you would pull away at any given moment. Then sweet turning more and more passionate by seconds.

News always flied in the glaze, you two being “a thing” now was not. an exception. By the time the next bonfire arrived, no one, not even the greenie, wasn’t aware of it. Newt was glad, Minho had been rambling about you way too long and he couldn’t stand it anymore. Alby was a little bit angry, his rules had been broken again after all, but that was something you could deal with later. Minho was over the moon. You finally assumed that the line between annoyance and love is really thin. But there were two people who weren’t so happy about it…

“Here he comes again” Clint claimed as he saw a familiar tall and dark-haired boy entering the cabin.

“What happened this time?” Jeff asked as he placed some liquids on the shelves “Did he touch some poison ivy? Or did he catch a cold?” Being honest, they were growing tired of your Minho coming over with some stupid excuse to see you.

“A paper cut thanks to the map’s room, actually” He answered as he came closer to the desk where you were writing down the inventory before the next box arrived. “Afternoon, princess”

“Afternoon you too, my lovely clumsy bastard” You joked, placing a soft kiss on his lips

“Y/n, we will be running off band-aids if you keep putting one on your boyfriend every time he wants to see you” Clint protested as Jeff faked to be throwing up because of your small gestures of affection.

“Fine, a get-well kiss will be enough I guess” Minho accepted, and you wasted no time and kissed his cheek.

The rest of the med-jacks were more than annoyed with him, but he didn’t seem to care. After all, you were his favorite med-jack, the only one whose opinion mattered to him.

#minho tmr x reader #miho x reader #the maze runner #minho x y/n #minho tmr x y/n