#gonna double check that vocabulary

[gaasublarb]

IMO Miles and Hobie actually look similar enough to justify Actually Miles Is Young Hobie fanstuff and yet I haven't seen any

Same eye color

The hairline and eyebrows are different but those are things that can be shaped

I thought Miles had just rounded lips but even that's not right. And it's not as if Hobie's don't even out sometimes

The face lines

Even their ears are similar enough I can't say anything against it and ears are like super individual

(Edit. Differences that age and stress maybe can't account for:

I think Miles has bigger ears? And maybe his lobes are more detached?)

((edit edit. I think the back of Hobie's jaw is shorter?? And the base of it longer????))

[ideaofheaven]

— after 2AM (choi minho x reader)

Synopsis: Choi Minho and you never see eye to eye. After countless troubles you two caused in class, the professor pairs you for a group project as a form of ironic punishment… Which brings you to a heated night of push and pull, hours before the deadline.

Pairing: Choi Minho x fem!reader

Genre: university!AU, enemies to lovers-ish, smut, then it gets kinda fluffy at the end??

Word count: 9682

Warnings: alcohol, they’re in uni, profanities, they are HORNY, mutual masturbation, video call sex, domsub undertones, explicit dirty talk (implied exhibitionism, breeding, and a tiiiiny bit of degradation kink), panic attack - reader experienced post-coital dysphoria for a bit :(

AN: sometimes your thirsty hours turn into a 9k mutual masturbation fic - jk, I really enjoy writing this one, especially the dialogue. I hope you like it! [06/30: did some minor edits on typos and whatnot]

Mini part 2 here

+++

"Out of every topic, you picked this? Are you mad?"

First and foremost, Choi Minho and you never get along.

There are abundant reasons why you can't stand him. You don't share too many classes with him, but when you do it always ends up with heated and pointless arguments. During each one of your presentations, Minho will raise a hand and play the role of devil's advocate, earning intrigued whispers from your classmates. Until one day, the professor had enough and paired you up in a project, much to your unheard protests.

Quite inevitably, it ends up in half-hearted discussion through the Zoom Meeting, only two days before the presentation.

"What? Got a problem with that?" You snap while still uploading source data into your shared drive. Then, a bark of mocking laughter pierces your ears, positively grating your nerves.

"A problem? There's no theory that correlates to it. Guess we're not having any presentations are we?" 

You roll your eyes at the sight of his irksome sneer. It twists his usually bearable face into horribly displeasing. Minho's eyes spark alight with mockery, and you wonder why your classmates keep saying Minho "has the most tender eyes ever." Sounds like a different person altogether to you.

"We can find connections through other eras." You push through.

He rolls his eyes. "Which means you're doubling our work." 

"Check the drive." You say through gritted teeth, barely holding yourself to spit harsher words. Minho does as instructed, albeit still murmuring curses under his breath and hand rustling his gelled hair, quiet but purposely audible, perhaps just to push your buttons more. But you choose to wait. 

As expected, his eyebrows raise in surprise before he scoffs, "someone did their homework."

"And someone's a useless ass." Minho whips a glare at his own laptop camera - at you. Before he can say anything, you mute him. And you can see him biting his lips, holding back more words, solidifying your win.

"Shut up and get to work, Choi."

Then, his mic icon goes on.

"Fuck you."

You smirk. With a finger on your lips, you speak to him like one to a child. "Shhh. Be useful for once, will you?"

Both of you are petty and nothing sort of professional, but you have no intention to be the bigger person, not for Choi Minho. Begrudgingly, he turns away, and an icon with a familiar photo appears in the google docs.

That should motivate him to work.

His voice suddenly rings. "Hey."

He hasn't typed a single word on your shared google docs, you note with cynicism.

"What?"

"Your vocabulary sucks." Then in a douchebag way you know only Choi Minho can manage, he deletes most of your bullet points as you stifle a scream. He did not - "Let me be useful and change it up for you.” He ends with a cruel smirk.

This is not going to be easy.

+++

After a short-handed discussion, both of you decide to work in the student center. The next day, grudging and rather worn out from your last class, you force yourself to go. As you rise from your chair, a voice calls you out.

“You look like you’re gonna have some fun.” Kibum snickers and Jonghyun stifles a laugh on his own as well. You pout at your classmates.

“And you know exactly why.” You mutter with a roll of your eyes.

“I paired up with him last semester and got a perfect score, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Jonghyun shrugs, gaining glares from both you and Kibum.

“Easy for you to say, he’s like a puppy around you.” Kibum scoffs, his platinum-dyed hair covering his eye, which must be rolling with annoyance. He then turns to you, “I’d like to say I feel you, but Minho really is worse with you.”

“Like, in comparison, he actually tolerates you all this time.” The shorter man adds to Kibum, perplexed.

“Right?!” He shouts, all dramatic and making you groan. “Seriously though, it’s a dick move from professor Lee.”

“To be frank, I can’t see myself finishing this assignment in one piece.”

“You should tell Minho to drop the class.” Kibum says mischievously, only to get pinched by the male with short brown hair, who’s impatiently shushing him. “Ouch, I’m just saying.”

Clutching your bag strap, you think about it for a second before waving the idea off. “Not happening. Professor Lee will still kill me.”

Your two male friends give off different reactions, Kibum is still finding ways to alleviate your pain (or to add more trouble), but instead, Jonghyun moves closer to put his arms around you.

“Listen, (Y/n), he’s not that bad. You’ll see.”

Chuckling at the positivity, you pat his arms in response. “Not sure about it, but okay.”

After arriving at the end of the hall, you go on separate ways with the boys. While they can go grab some dinner, you drag yourself to the meeting spot. The student center is quite empty, and to be expected because the facility is not too popular in the evenings. You find a table to sit at, and wait for your project partner.

You already have your laptop set up when Minho appears. Unlike you, he seems rather refreshed. He’s wearing an oversized hoodie and trousers for his long legs. In his hand is a large plastic bag which he dumps unceremoniously onto the table.

"What's this?"

"No 'hi' or something?" The male starts, rolling his eyes, with a hand on his hip. "Some snacks, in case we need it."

Oh. Resisting an urge to rummage through the colorful packages inside the plastic bag, you throw a doubtful look his way instead.

"Um, thanks."

As if not sensing your hostility, he shrugs in resignation, mumbling "sure" before sitting down and grabbing his own laptop from his bag.

Without much preamble, you both start working. Minho manages to focus on his screen, and the momentum breaks only when he calls your name to confirm a thing or two. At some point, he grabs a bag of chips for him to munch on, not forgetting to nudge the plastic bag in your direction. “Have you taken any?”

“Oh. Right.” You mumble, picking some chocolate stick that catches Minho’s attention for a split second.

Once in a while, your gaze drifts over to him, almost anticipating a weird movement or him slacking off. However, the only strange action you find is Minho blowing air towards the dark strands of hair covering his eyes.

In all actuality, you expect the atmosphere to be more sour and less productive. Yes, there's a strange vibe in the air, but it's more similar to awkwardness to cause discomfort. 

Until suddenly, an insistent cursor on your shared google docs starts typing words that don't match your work. What the hell, anonymous tiger?

Growing exasperated, your fingers clack on the keyboard, furiously erasing the latest paragraph.

"What the fuck - I just wrote that!" The familiar voice shouts, and there's a split second when you think you should just kick him out, then do the presentation alone in class. That wouldn't be so bad.

"It's all wrong. And where are these photos coming from? Don't just put the bullet points there, they're meant to be the conclusion."

Minho takes a deep breath, shoulders visibly rising until he channels out his frustration with a noise that almost sounds like a growl. That sort of thing unfazed you, but you're still glad the student center is mostly empty.

"Listen, we can make a better statement than that." His eyes are like flames, and you can’t help but stare back and, as he wants, listen.

He pulls a chair, nodding to you in a silent gesture. Initially, you hesitate but you go over to him anyway. Minho clicks on the laptop and a new window pops up, showing a detailed page from a book.

"From this theory, I found a connection that can help us." With that, the temperamental male turns into a whole different person. He briefly explains the information he’s gotten from the book, all the while giving you the room to take it in. Then, with unmistakable excitement, he begins his train of thoughts he wants to implement into the assignment. With every sentence he says, your anger subsides, turning into something akin to awe. Not that you will admit it.

One thing for sure; for the first time, you think this project might work.

As he finishes, you blink rapidly. Minho leans back with his elbow on the desk, relaxed and undeniably proud of himself. You send a glare his way.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

His face scrunches, as if that was not the words he expected after the successful presentation.

"First, I wasn't done with the research." He says, eyebrows furrowing, then he points a finger at you. "Second, you muted me every time I said a goddamn word."

Oh, here we go again. Your two hands shot in the air, feigning a defense in front of the frowning man.

"Not my fault I don't want to hear your complaints."

There's a flash of something wild on Minho's face which you identify as his troublemaking expression. But as he leans closer, you realize it too late.

"This is why you should listen, (Y/n)."

In a snap, there's a pulling on your ear. Minho pinches your ear and pulls like you were a 5 year old with tantrums. The low level of pain causes you to winch, but it's the electricity from his touch that makes you jump back.

"Ow! What the hell!" You sputter and he snickers like this is elementary school, going with the theme in your head.

Satisfied, Minho releases you. But his hand lingers and it brushes the side of your neck, prompting you to hold a shiver from the ticklish sensation. It would be a drag to deal with more of his antics, so you get up from the chair to glare at him pointedly.

"You're a freak."

He challenges, fire in his eyes, "Care to say that again?"

Because you're not a university student who's not petty, you smirk and take the bait.

"You're a freak - hey!" His large hand pulls at your sleeve, halting your step. The sudden momentum startles you and you lose your footing. Ultimately, your body stumbles and falls with a yelp, and your bum hits the chair.

Grumbling, you shake off the shock before you attempt to get up once again. Then, a groan comes from beside you, too close, freezing you on the spot. A hand holds the side of your waist, and your suspicion is confirmed. Of course you did not land on the chair, you end up sitting on Minho's thighs, your back pressing against his.

"Getting comfortable?" Minho asks, his deep voice brushing your ears, and much to your dismay, you can imagine the leer that accompanies his voice. In panic and confusion, you attempt to leave his lap in a rush, only to be stopped.

"Can you get that hand off of me?" You ask, turning on him.

"I don't know, can I?"

His dark eyes clash with your glaring ones, gleaming with mischief and something else you can't quite decipher. All you can feel is his hand tightening its grip on your side, and the warm air of his breath, clouding your mind.

But this is Choi Minho, and you do not like Choi Minho, whatever the situation is. With a renewed willpower you push yourself off of him and be on your feet.

"We're wasting time." You declare. "Send me all your notes, we need to get going."

Minho only smiles sweetly, a one eighty degree difference from the man before, which only leaves you more frustrated. As he dives back into his work, you hide behind your laptop, calming your racing heart and ignoring the surge of familiarity you feel.

+++

The crowd was growing in number and in anger, too. The boys from the EXO house became more agitated with every word Minho said, filled with provocation and mockery. Jonghyun and Jinki were nowhere to be found, probably looking for chances to steal the mic. Taemin and Kibum were definitely loitering around the drinks bar.

You had no choice.

“Whoa, is that Jongin puking?!”

As expected, your shrill voice was enough to distract them before you literally dragged Minho by his jean jacket.

“Let me go,” he grunted, but his alcohol-induced state prevented him from doing it himself. Your smaller stature managed to pull him towards an empty room, which later you figured out to be the storage.

He tried to wrestle out of your grip, muttering curse words at no one in particular and you finally had enough. With both your hands, you slapped his cheeks, which were damp with sweat.

“You wouldn’t be able to win that fight.” You said sternly.

Minho froze, and while he was in that state, you quickly went out to get a glass of water. When you returned, he’s already blinking his eyes a few times, a sign of his returning sobriety.

And a sign you should leave the premises soon.

You handed him the glass, urging him to drink as you murmured, “I should go. This party sucks and, godammit, I just wanna go home. Drink this and… I don’t know, stay safe, I guess.”

The taller man drank slowly, but his eyes kept gazing at yours. When he finished, there was a soft look in his visage, and he suddenly smiled. Sleepy and tired, but sweet nonetheless.

Flustered, you left the glass in his hands, and ran away from the storage. The day after, Minho grumbled about his headache and loopholes in his memory from that party to Kibum and Jinki, and you sighed in relief.

+++

Sorry for the late reply! Was watching the campus baseball team

I added a few slides right before the first conclusion

Tell me what you think 🤔

These are okay.

But don't add more on that. We're almost reaching 40 slides.

Who said I'm gonna add more? 🙄

Idk, you seemed ready to add 10 more just to spite me.

Oh. 

Why didnt I think of that

Are you free tonight?

Lets review the whole thing

Duh, tomorrow's the presentation

Do you think I'm that stupid lol

Unlike you I care about my grades

Yeah?

And you think I don't?

You don't seem to care if you get me into trouble

Right. Whatever.

Unlike you I'm not petty

Idc who I work with I can get my job done

I didn't mean it like that.

I'll join you at 11 pm

+++

There's a discomfort that can't be spoken.

You scroll through the slides, apprehensive not of the contents, but of the author, the one that finally snapped at you. Perhaps you deserved it. On the other hand, Minho should stop basing his mood on sports game results, it's stupid as hell.

Five minutes to eleven, the preparation is done. You could just text Minho there's nothing left to do, and both of you could catch some needed rest.

Suddenly, a loud beep rings in your ear. And you don't think twice before admitting Minho into your Zoom meeting.

"Hey, sorry for the wait." He speaks, voice crackling from the signal before it becomes more stable. "I just took a bath."

"At this hour?" You ask, disbelieving his decision, but trying not to stare for too long.

"Yeah. I just got back from a soccer game. Jonghyun's invitation."  He shrugs, letting the towel drape against his broad shoulders, which may or may not be distracting.

Faster than a cat on a mouse, you force yourself to stop staring at him, and when you see Minho, there's an inquisitive expression on his gaze. He dismisses it quickly, relieving you.

"How's our work going?"

You clear your throat. "I'd finished checking them, maybe you want to see it first before we decide on the parts distribution."

"Sure."

And everything is awkward again.

Granted, it's not the most amicable atmosphere. Minho mumbles to himself, reading each point with focused eyes and not even minding your existence. After what seems like forever, he mentions a few slides that need to be double-checked, which extends your work time.

As the night heightens and the cold intensifies, you wish you were brave enough to break the ice.

Then, a loud yawn echoes in your ear.

"Can we continue this later?" Minho asks through more yawns. "It's like, almost 1 AM right now."

The time reminder doesn't quite surprise you. "Do you have morning classes?"

Minho checks his phone. "No."

"Then we're still doing this."

Your work partner groans, prompting you to hide a tiny smile at his antics. But suddenly, Minho raises his voice, startling you.

"Why do you hate me so much?" He snaps.

Something clenches in your stomach, and you force yourself to look into Minho's face on the screen. His eyebrows are furrowed, demanding answers which you are not sure you could provide.

"I don't."

"Then," he stops to hide a yawn. "Why?"

"I don't know." You pause. "But I don't hate you. Not at all."

His eyebrows shoot up, then he sighs.

“You’re just confused.”

“Yeah.” You pause. “I think I am… Like, really confused.”

Minho smiles in response, almost in relief. His eyes crinkle softly into crescents, like a drowsy pair of moons, and something within you softens at the sight. He should smile more often.

You quietly let out a relieved sigh on your own.

"Good. I'm taking a nap," he declares all of a sudden, standing up from his chair and ignoring your belated complaints. The camera view changes into something similar to a found footage movie, all shaky and blurry. Once it stabilizes, a sight of Minho clears up, showing him leaning back against a mountain of cushions and pillows on his bed. Then he sighs contently, the sound a little too soft in your ears.

But, he seems more comfortable on the soft bed. Unfair.

"Choi Minho, get back to the google docs or I'll - "

"You'll what? Mute my microphone?" A sleepy laugh. "I'm taking a nap. You and your ugly pajamas can suck it."

What the fuck.

"Excuse me? This is loungewear."

"Let me see." He laughs and you waste no time before adjusting your webcam to pan from your short sleeved top to the pants, all having the same pattern. They're cute, but from the way he frowns Minho doesn't seem too adoring of them.

"They're pajamas." 

"It's loungewear, you caveman." You pout.

His full lips curl in a sneer, then he speaks with a voice surprisingly lower than before.

"Well I do prefer sleeping with no clothes."

Your mouth shuts. After a moment too long of trying not to imagine your classmate in his choice sleepwear, you grunt, exasperated.

"Whatever gets you off." You sigh, but internally cursing at your choice of words. Minho grins.

"You mean whatever gets you off."

"Shut up."

"Then mute me."

You let out a sarcastic laugh. "Mute yourself."

You stare at the pixelated image of Minho on the screen and he mirrors your actions, with a gaze more intense and drowning. It's as if he's not going to let this go easily. You are expecting more snides, but instead, with relaxed stretches and sighs, he leans back against the mountain of pillows.

"Okay." He shrugs. "Wake me up in 10 minutes."

The effort to speak fails as your throat tightens and you wish to go out, visit his dorm and strangle him in person. But Minho's already closing his eyes, tiredness taking over the man fast. And finally, you can relax.

If you're in a better state, you would have raked your mind to see how the fuck you let Choi Minho affect your this much.

At some point, you check Minho's camera, and sneak a time to take in his features. You won’t deny his handsome face and glorious physique. A small face, doe eyes, plush lips, broad shoulders, long legs that’s just unfair - okay yeah he’s hot. But it never occurs to you he'd look this calm even while sleeping. Gone are the angry lines on his eyebrows, and the tense clench of his jaw, all that’s left is a serene face that you don’t mind talking about for hours - okay yeah he’s still hot even when he’s sleeping.

If only he weren't such an asshole when he's awake.

Returning to your work, you never notice the rustling noises from Minho's mic. So when you see the Zoom window, you let out a yelp, surprised at Minho's face on your screen, peering with inquisition.

He laughs, and oh, his voice is huskier now after a short amount of sleep. "Surprised?"

"Uh, has it been 10 minutes already?"

"Not yet, but I can't sleep. Not with you staring all the time."

"Says the man who’s been staring at me for god knows how long." You respond, because the best thing liars can do is turn the table on others.

And Minho doesn't even deny it.

"Oh, yeah, about that."

"What?"

"Nothing." The quick response combined with his avoidance doesn't convince you in the slightest, and one wary look from Minho says he's well aware of it. After a few awkward seconds, he relents.

"That top, it's kind of…" he trails off, fingers touching his own t-shirt hem to emphasize a point. You look down, and - oh. The top button had slipped off, hence the generous view of cleavage that caught Minho's attention.

But you're in no mood to be embarrassed.

"That's the way you style it." You spit the lie with oozing confidence on a high level of bullshit. "You got any complaints?"

Minho's eyebrows furrow, obviously not buying it, but more amused. He’s holding back a mischievous looking smile, and despite not liking it, you have to suppress a bubbling excitement. Excitement of what, you have absolutely no idea. Or rather, you refuse to acknowledge you have fun teasing Choi Minho.

"No, not at all. And (Y/n)?"

You only move your eyes, not enjoying the apprehension because what now? As he finds your gaze, he smirks.

"That loungewear does look good on you."

You’re out of words to respond. As you ignore the jolt in your stomach, you let him be smug, satisfied, and winning. You don’t care. 

However, minutes later, a small part of you relents and basks in the compliment in private, sharing little smiles to yourself.

Unbeknownst to you, Minho doesn't have his eyes on the presentation anymore.

+++

As late night approaches, your productivity wanes.

Minho is back on the pillows, playing on his phone while you both take a break. Swayed by the night air and your sore back, you're now sitting on the bed too, but still facing the desk which is right by the mattress. After the pajama accident, you decided to wrap yourself in blankets, and when Minho saw your cocooned form he laughed, voice like crackling fire. Truth to be told, your blankets turn cold in comparison to the warmth he exuded.

The train of thoughts grinds to a halt when Minho chimes.

"Done for tonight?"

The honest and spontaneous answer would be a yes, it's done and we can now sleep and rest. But the hazy night lulls you further into a state of daze, making you wonder of the unthinkable.

"I still want to look something up. You can leave though, it's fine." Hook, line -

"Let me hang out with you for a bit."

Sinker.

What are you doing?

Silence stretches, and you're positive Minho is doing that stare again, the one that is construed as smoldering.

"Not too feisty late at night, are you?"

Minho has left his pillows, now sitting upright and staring directly at the camera - at you. There you decide confidence looks fucking good on Choi Minho.

"You know what they say, nothing good happens after 2 AM." You avert your gaze from his burning ones, and it's bold of you to assume you could escape.

"Oh? Any cautionary tales?"

"Not exactly." You hum, "Maybe unfiltered conversations?"

"That can be fun, though. It's like you're drunk, but with no alcohol." He rambles. You take notice of the sway in his sentence and open the Zoom window to check your partner. Despite the dim light, you can see the way his eyes droop with sleepiness, along with his messy mop of dark hair, and it's rather adorable.

"I think someone's guilty of that."

"I have no idea what you're talking about, there's no booze here." He offers a crooked grin and the expression turns into a thoughtful one. "Do you drink?"

"What's it to you?"

He shrugs. "Just curious."

"Sometimes." You finally say.

There's a moment of silence before Minho rustles in his bed, sitting with crossed legs and scooting closer to the camera. When he speaks again, the volume is louder, startling you.

"Do you remember Kibum's party? The one on the weekend after Valentine's Day?"

"Oh God, that one was a bit too much."

"Agreed." He chuckles, low and nostalgic. He scratches the back of his head. "Thanks for helping me out back then."

You're barely able to hide the surprise on your face, and Minho answers the unsaid question for you.

"I remember. I was drunk, but I remember you dragging me off." From the tone of his voice, he sounds sheepish, but so are you, because the revelation throws you off guard.

"No worries. Just… Don't do that too often."

He laughs. "You hate parties, don't you? I remember you were so grumpy before you left."

Hiding your face in your hands, you groan. "They can be too much."

"You don't sound like you always have a good time."

"Sorry if my dull life offends you."

"It's not dull, per se.” He waves his hands around as a gesture. “But it's why you're such a bummer."

"Again, sorry if you're not having a blast with me."

"Forgiven." A pause. "But, you know." A longer pause, and the silence starts to test your patience. "You can just ask me. I provide spectacular good times."

Respectfully, you give him a side eye.

"Right now I can give you a whole different testimony."

"To be fair, we're doing homework. But… I can do better." He leans in closer, pupils dilating with an emotion you are afraid to iterate, furthering your confusion.

"What are you on about?" You minimize the Zoom window, an effort to return to your task at hand. From Minho's side, there's nothing but the sound of breathing, but when he speaks, his voice deepens.

"I can do better than this. I can make you feel good."

You freeze, throat tightening as you're lost for words. There's no way to stop your mind from wandering uncontrollably. Afraid to see him, you avoid checking his face on the screen.

After a few seconds of silence, he speaks up again, voice husky and more true to what he said.

"Like I said, all you have to do is ask."

Afraid to cross whatever line he's teetering on, you take one for the team, inhale, and take a step back.

"Then, can you shut up and let me do my work?"

Minho lets out a condescending laugh in response, like he's asking 'are you for real?' "Fine then. Let me know when that cursor starts moving."

Warmth rushes to your cheeks. It's tempting to blame the alluring night, but you know better than that.

And you should know better than to assume Minho would let this slide.

The awkwardness hangs in the air, blanketing the both of you with tension. You suppose this could push him away, making him sign off and do his thing - which, you don't want to imagine. But no. Instead, Minho is now lounging on his bed. And now you know, the more comfortable Choi Minho is, the more forward he becomes.

"Why won't you let yourself loose?" He asks all of a sudden, five minutes of silence brings him to the edge of his new found glory. Minho scratches his dark hair like he’s frustrated.

You snap your head towards him in disbelief. But before you say anything, he continues with a slightly raised tone.

"Like, come on, (Y/n). We're in university. You can have some fun."

"Doesn't seem worth my time."

"I can be worth your time, if you let me."

"This again?" You sigh. "What do you want from me, Minho?"

Another silence, and this time, you regret the question. From the corner of your eyes, Minho is getting up from his position on the bed to lean in, face uncharacteristically serious.

“I know you know exactly what I want.” He begins. “And I see the way you look at me.”

There's no teasing, just a plain observation. Those words alone kick your heartbeat into a stuttering mess. Despite the urge to confirm, there's still hesitation. You don't want to give in. Not to him.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." You internally curse when your words come out too breathy, and Minho definitely notices, judging by the crooked smile adoring his lips.

"Aren't you tired of teasing yourself like this?" He asks, languid and all knowing. "Why are we still here? Our work is done. You stopped typing ten minutes ago."

"Okay, that's it. We're done for today." You cut him off, closing your docs to prove a point. But it doesn't deter him in the slightest.

"No, we're not." He says with a finality, sleep gone from his voice.

Because without the presentation and all other student responsibilities, you're just two young adults who forget nothing good will come out this late at night.

And, despite the virtual presence, he still manages to corner you, and string you along into his game. 

Perhaps, you let him do so.

"You don't know how tempting you look right now." He whispers, making shivers run down your spine. Checking your camera view, you find out your blankets had fallen off, now sitting on your lap while your skewed pajamas look rumpled and, once again, revealing too much of your skin. With your messy hair and dazed eyes, you can understand why Minho would say that. You look fucked out. And there's no action - not yet.

So you try again, "Minho - "

"I like that look on your face."

You scoff, then try again. "Like I want to strangle you?"

"No. Like you want me to strangle you."

And that's when you know you can't try your way out of this situation. A jolt of arousal unwittingly shocks your body and Minho sees enough of your expression before flashing you a knowing smile. "What's on your mind?"

"...Nothing." You answer a beat too fast.

"You're thinking about me, aren't you?"

"That's - that's enough. Aren't you tired?"

"Not really. Why don't you tire me out?"

"If doing a presentation with me didn't do shit, I don't know what will."

"You just won't back down will you?" Minho's form on the screen shuffles, adjusting his position to lean back against the headboard. "Can't say I don't like it though." Then, a low sigh startles you, and your eyes grow wide.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

"Helping you out."

Unfortunately, he's not. He's laid on the bed, leaning back with his legs stretched out, a hand lazily stroking his own thighs. And it's a sight you can watch forever.

"How does touching yourself help me out, Choi?"

"You're too tense," he says in between grunts, earning more reaction from your traitorous body. "Be thankful I'm showing you how to relax."

"You're a goddamn pervert."

"And you like it."

"Fuck, why would I - do you actually think your naughty little words will work on me? Try again."

There's blazing confidence in his eyes, as if he's holding all the cards and you're left in the dark.

"Challenge accepted, beautiful.”

He continues to tease himself as he stares at your form in the camera, hands getting closer to his crotch.

"You can tell me to stop."

Before you can say anything, he reaches low and begins to palm himself through the sweatpants. Even on camera, you can see the sizable tent. You unconsciously lick your lips, earning a mocking laugh from his end.

"You're drooling."

You throw a glare at him. "Fuck you."

"We can get to that later. But right now, can I continue, (Y/n)?"

The question surprises you as it offers your ticket to the way out, despite the expectation visible in Minho’s pleading eyes. You take a deep breath, sealing the deal.

"...You said you accepted the challenge."

And that's all Minho needs to exhale harshly, sounding more like a moan.

"I did, but can't you just - ah - do something?" The husky voice alone sends a wave of arousal to your core, and you instinctively snap your thighs together. A cloud of lust starts to muddle your brain, and you can't think straight anymore.

Of course Minho notices immediately.

"I saw it."

"You see nothing."

"You're a fucking menace." He grunts, and it sounds way more sexy than angry, like really sexy. With a hand still touching and exploring, he continues to sigh.

"A menace that makes you jerk off while zooming with me?" You can't help but tease, in which he moans in response instead of answering.

"Listen, we're both tired and I need this. So, fuck it."

In one swift movement, his hand dives into his briefs and grabs his cock by the hilt, at least from what you guess through the fabric. His mouth falls open in pleasure. 

"Godammit, Minho, you shouldn't - "

"Shhh… Let me have this." His hand speeds up and he closes his eyes, face scrunching in pleasure as he lets out sensuous noises that tempt you more until a whimper escapes your lips. You hear him chuckle.

"Care to join me? I bet you're already wet."

You force a laugh. “I don’t think so.”

"Then prove it."

“Do it yourself then.”

"Oh baby, if I were there, I would do more than that." You're frozen on the spot, anticipating his words. As he hears no complaint from you, he continues. "I could pull you down on my lap, just like that night in the library - "

"It was an accident." You protest, voice small and unsurprisingly ignored.

"- put my arm around your waist, and then I'd slip a hand underneath those pajama pants - loungewear." He laughs while correcting the words and you can’t help but join him incredulously.

At this point, you can only hear Minho's heavy breathing, or perhaps they were your own. You have no idea anymore, your brain muddled with desire and anticipation. His brown eyes slide to the camera, right at you.

"I wonder how wet you are beneath all that?"

For some reason, you still try. "Dry?”

"Wrong. You'd be soaking wet, and I just know you'd instantly jump as soon as I touched your panties." He explains nonchalantly, but then the haughty tone is replaced by something mocking and exaggerated. "But I guess I am the one who’s wrong."

"What?"

He ceases any movement on his part, and you find yourself disappointed. "If you're really not into this," he begins, voice breathy but there's impatience there that comes from the built up frustration. "Tell me to stop."

Everything halts in your brain. The erotic display gets to you too much until you can't even say a word. Instead, you zoom in on his arms, and how the muscles rippled when he stroke himself. The way his neck tenses, pronouncing his collarbones more. You even wonder if you would be able to see droplets of sweat on his temples if he was in front of you. As Minho grows more impatient, his eyebrows furrow.

He's absolutely gorgeous.

"Tell. Me. To. Stop.”

You swallow, helplessly and undeniably holding yourself back.

“What do you want, (Y/n)?” He focuses on you, chest heaving with each pant. Only now you see how desperate he is.

"Minho…" You let out, brain short-circuiting with lust.

“Yeah, baby? Tell me. You want the same thing as I do?” Whatever he sees on the screen makes him start moving again. His hand finds his shaft again, and he moans loudly. "You want to feel good? I can make you feel good, I can help you out.”

With every word, you wish you can say yes, yes, and yes. Instead, with a sharp intake, you finally say meekly, “Tell me what to do.”

You hear Minho murmur some curses before turning to you.

“Get that blanket away. I want to see you.”

Nervously, you reposition yourself, taking the blanket aside and you hold the urge to sigh as the scratchy fabric grazes your hot skin. You're already oversensitive and you haven't even started yet. Minho is staring at you through the camera, shameless with his want and impatience.

“Touch yourself, baby. Start with your tits.”

With shaky fingers, you start by caressing your chest. Online video meetings are peculiar because there's always a delay before the other party reacts to what you do. In that short window of time, doubt arises. You wonder and think how this happens. But then, Minho lets out a guttural moan, the sound akin to someone who's about to reach his climax.

And the surge of confidence crashes to you like a wave.

"I'm just touching my tits and you're gonna cum already?" You ask with a smug smile.

Minho pays no mind to your comment, instead he scoots closer to the laptop. "Shit, you're actually doing this. Now we're talking."

"Just this one time." You hurriedly find your hardening nipples through the thin fabric of your clothes, wincing with pleasure. "I need this too."

"Yeah? Show me how much you need this. Take off that shirt.”

God, now that you're not lying to yourself and to Minho there's a relentless urge to seek more pleasure. And the thought of Minho seeing you masturbate lights a fire in your stomach.

So you unbutton your top, slow and deliberate to tease the man on the other end of the application. Because that's what he deserves. You hear an exasperated "Hurry up," before a smirk graces your lips for a change. As you shrug off the shirt, you already know his eyes are glued to the sight of your skin.

"God, that body…" He trails off. "You're so fucking hot."

"Likewise." You sigh as your hand slips under the waistband of your pants. "Dammit, I can't believe this."

He chuckles, delirious but still tantalizingly sexy.

"You know what to do. Go and touch that pussy for me."

His assertiveness flicks a switch inside you. Letting out a shuddering sigh, you move backwards further, making sure everything you do will be captured with your web camera. Then, you pull open your legs at a traitorous slow movement, pulling more curses from Minho.

"Touch it." He orders.

You obey him and tug your panties aside to touch your core directly. The contact makes you moan, and Minho knows he's getting what he wants. And so are you.

"See, that wasn't so hard."

"S-shut up."

"You're drenched, I just know it."

He's right, and your head spins with relentless want. Imagining that voice speaking directly to your ear, soft lips grazing your skin as his hand travels south, leaving fire in its trail.

Like your hand is his, you continue rubbing your body, even spreading your legs more, as if he's right there as your audience. You pull your pants down, letting it pool on one of your ankles, before raising one leg slightly to find the angle that gives you the most pleasure.

As you hear wet sounds in your ear, you return your gaze to the screen to enjoy the sight. Minho had his pants removed properly as well, and he has one hand gripping his stiff cock, which has a sheen from what you assume is his own precum. God, the whole visual on your screen is such a sin.

"Shit." You can't help but say, and Minho only laughs in response.

"You're allowed to imagine me fucking you, don't worry." He teases, lips curling into a sneer, and considering the situation, it looks devilish and way too seductive.

With a shaky breath, you scoff.

"Is that what you're thinking? What, fucking me from behind?"

"Not from behind, baby. I want to see your face as my cock pushes in you for the first time."

You hiss as you slide your fingers in your pussy, scrunching your face with ecstasy, and fuck, Minho's into it, because he even stops to take a proper look at you and the way you pleasure yourself.

"Enjoying the view, Choi?" You challenge, and he gulps.

"I wish I could be there, watching you fuck yourself with your fingers."

"Are you sure - ah - you can just stay there and watch?" Your fingers already feel so good dragging against your walls and you want to know how it feels to have his thick cock inside you.

He smirks.

"I can be patient, baby. I can watch you all day."

"Why don't you help me out?"

"Oh? What do you want me to do?"

You groan. "You know…" 

"What? Use your words, (Y/n)." Minho stops only to look at you straight from his camera, eyes almost begging. And you fall for it.

"I want your fingers in me."

He hums, a silent encouragement for you to continue.

"Mmhm. Keep touching yourself, baby girl. What else do you want?"

You groan at the nickname, feeling more wetness now inside you. In a daze, you manage out in between gasps.

"I need you to fuck me."

"What was that?"

"Minho, fuck me, please." You say as you add another finger, pushing inside your drenched pussy, making you moan your words.

"Oh baby, you're so cute begging me like that. I'm gonna fuck you hard, you hear me? You will be shaking and crying when I'm done with you."

You're whimpering, hands still furiously sliding in and out of your wet folds as you watch Minho throw his head back in immense pleasure. He's loud - groans and moans fill your ear, and the sounds coming from him are so lewd, and wet. 

He's going to be the death of you.

There's a moment when you soak in each other's voices, each moan and squelch increasing your pleasure instead. Minho, dark eyes so clouded with lust it's clear even through the screen, demands another question to you.

"What do you want, (Y/n)? Tell me what you want to do to me."

Oh, you don't even know where to start. Flooded with many scenarios, you answer him with the first thing that comes to mind.

"I want to ride your face." You admit sheepishly, only to earn a low chuckle from the other side.

"Shit, that's hot. I wish you were here. I - " another low grunt. "I would have you sitting on my face, my tongue lapping your cunt as you scream out my name. I bet you taste like honey. You're going to grab my headboard, my fingers stuffing your mouth because I know you're going to be loud, aren't you baby?"

As if following his command, you whine out a "yes", voice high pitched and it sounds utterly pathetic. 

With two fingers pushing in and out of your cunt deliciously, your other hand joins to rub your clit, and you hiccup a moan.

"Minho, please I want your cock inside me," you cry out, drowning in the euphoria of lust. All because of him, only him.

"Me too, baby, me too. I want to fuck you all day long. I want to take you in our classroom. Would you like that, huh? After class ended, I could just bend you over the desk and have my way with you."

You won't even deny how much wetter you get after imagining all his words. Public sex doesn't usually excite you much, but this is Minho, and everything with Minho sounds exhilarating and turns you on like hell. Your breath becomes shakier, and everything is intense. You can't feel your hands anymore.

"I'd like that. Hell, you can take me at the student center for all I care."

Minho, ever the sadist, sneers. "I knew it. You like having an audience huh? How about the next time we visit you sit on my cock? I bet you're going to have a hard time shutting up."

A gasp. "Like you're any better, you're freaking loud."

"Don't blame me, I bet your pussy will be so tight around me." He groans, enjoying his own imagination as he continues to pump his cock. "God, this feels so good. Touch your tits for me, baby."

You do as he says, enjoying the jolt of pleasure coming from pinching your nipples.  As Minho keeps encouraging you, your breath quickens, tensing up as your climax approaches fast. 

"Keep going - shit I need to taste you when you cum. Are you close? I'm so close."

"Minho," you moan, words slurring. "I'm so close, too. Fuck, I need your cum inside of me."

"Shit, (Y/n) - "

"I would hold you with my legs and I wouldn't let you go until you fill me up." There’s no more filter so you keep rambling, and before you know it you hear Minho groaning loudly. You check on the screen to see him cum, ropes of white getting onto his bed sheets. Not expecting him to cum first, you let out a delirious laugh. Minho catches you, still panting from his afterglow. He looks gorgeous -

And dangerous.

"You want to be filled, don't you?" He begins, voice still stuttering, but low and immediately freezing you in place. "You want my cum so bad you actually beg for it."

Your breaths pick up in pace.

"I don't think you're done yet. Get that hand working."

You grumble a word or two before resuming to touch your body, hands shaking with heightened pleasure. You hold back a hiss as you touch your stiff nipples, and continue to push in two fingers in your pussy.

"Faster, (Y/n). Rub that clit for me."

Biting your lip, you do as he says and feel the approaching climax. As you gaze at the screen, Minho has a hand propping his head as he looks at you with a challenging expression, like he's waiting for you to fall.

"What else do you want, baby? You want more of my cum? Want me to fill you up until you get knocked up?"

"Ah!" You slip, hands pinching your swollen nub too hard, but that's all Minho needs. With half lidded eyes, he peers at you, like he’s proud of the new discovery.

"Oh, look at you. You're enjoying this."

"N-no, I'm not," you breathe out, sounding too much like a moan.

"Yes you are."

The humiliation burns but not in the right place, it ignites a new flame inside your belly, and you can feel yourself clenching on your own fingers.

"I'm - I'm so close."

“Yeah? You wanna cum? You wanna squeeze my cock with that tight pussy, and make me fill you up?” He presses and presses, voice low as a whisper but all the words shoot straight to you like an arrow. Your breath grows more shallow, and you’re starting to see white behind your eyes.

“Yes, please. Please Minho, please - “

"Go on, cum for me, (Y/n)."

Like a tight string that is cut, you snap and release with heightened senses, all pleasure that washes over you.

"Fuck, you're so beautiful." He murmurs with eyes looking at your panting self.

Your chest heaves with short breaths, and you let it slow down as you lean back into the pillows in your bed. You take a peek at your wet and shiny fingers in disbelief, giggling at the sight.

At the sound of your laugh, Minho joins in. "Damn, that was fun." Minho grins, the adrenaline seeping through the way he smiles. He leans in closer to the camera, eyes going all over. “I think we need to clean up, huh?”

You hum nonchalantly, but you notice your breath is not getting any slower. The thought hits you hard. You just masturbated with - in front of -

“Thank god I have no morning class, I need some good sleep after that.” He yawns, but then he gives another soft smile. “I wish you were here though, a cuddle would be perfect.”

The vision of both of you cuddling on your bed soothes your mind for a bit. You just know he’d be a great cuddler, and for some reason, it sounds nice. Lovely, even.

“Hey, after class you wanna grab dinner?”

After class. You will be meeting Minho, the person you just masturbated with, only in a few hours. Then you will present your work together.

Like a freight train, the embarrassment slams you in the face. You can't even say a thing, mouth only gaping open soundlessly, but you notice your heartbeat kicking abnormally in your ribcage, the sound starting to invade your senses.

"(Y/n), you okay?" Minho’s voice cuts through the racing thoughts in your mind. Gosh, he really does have tender eyes. He looks so worried, and genuine.

But your panic wins.

“I - I need to - I need to go - “

“Hey, tell me what’s - “

You never hear him finishing his sentence, because you already leave the meeting without saying another word.

+++

Despite knowing how much this presentation is worth for your grades, you want nothing more than to bury yourself in the nearest soil. And obviously, it’s not because you lack sleep. Because surprisingly, after that incident, you manage to sleep.

Probably because orgasms can make you that tired.

"Oh my, look at her, she's still alive!"

Barely, you think as Kibum walks to your seat, a sleepy Jonghyun in his trail, looking like he just woke up from a nap. Afternoon classes can either grant you extra nap time, or give you the most unfocused study time in the whole day.

In your case, without your morning classes, you can catch up with your needed sleep.

"Hey there, Kibum, Jjongie."

"You shouldn't be here. One of you must've dropped the class." The male with platinum hair gasps. "Minho dropped this class, didn't he?"

"What? No one's dropping the class." You groan, to which Jonghyun shouts in victory, startling you but not Kibum.

"You owe me 10 bucks."

"Whatever," Kibum rolls his eyes. "We still have one more run."

"Yeah but that's - "

You glare at them both. "You made bets?"

"Taemin put 30 on you dropping the class."

"Me? Dropping classes?” You almost shout, which makes Jonghyun cringe in understanding.

"Yeah he's not the brightest."

"See? It's more probable to have Minho leave." Kibum insists.

"Listen, Minho and I - "

"Me and (Y/n) are what?"

You freeze, recognizing the voice that lulls you to the peak of pleasure only a few hours prior. The blurry images of last night resurfaces in your mind, just like on the screen. You keep staring at the other way, not knowing how you will keep your expressions in check as soon as you see Minho.

"She’s not lying, you're still alive!"

Minho raises an eyebrow in amusement. “Of course I am, what would she do to me, kill me?”

“Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised.” Jonghyun chimes in, getting a laugh from Minho. The latter suddenly takes a seat beside you, and though you still hesitate to face him, you can smell his cologne that almost immediately makes your brain short-circuit.

“So you both actually managed to finish the assignment?” Kibum asks, his head turning from you to Minho. You have no choice but to turn to your partner, and he’s already smirking at you.

“We did. Not without sacrifices, though.” The taller male answers, looking at you with unmistakable fire in his eyes. You hold the urge to glare at him but only nod and force a smile in agreement.

“Huh.” Jonghyun murmurs, almost like an encouragement for both of you to elaborate more. But Kibum already cuts him off.

“Man, professor Lee will have a field day - “

"I probably will.” The said professor chimes in, making Kibum shout and the class laugh. “That's enough, Kim Kibum. Now let's start the class. Today's the presentation day, yeah? Let's begin with Sungjae's group."

Minho stays sitting down on your left side, leaving Kibum and Jonghyun bickering over some badly designed presentation slides from the others. As your eyes meet Minho's dark ones, the noise around you fades away, and you're left with a tight feeling in your stomach.

"Are you ready?" He asks and you jolt in surprise at how calming his eyes are to you. So you just grin, letting yourself relax. Because despite everything, you know you’ll get the presentation part right. 

"Of course." Your smile grows wider as you find the need to push his buttons further. "I hope you slept well."

He smirks. "Couldn't ask for a better rest."

In the end, despite Minho keeps bumping into you, or his hand lingering on yours as you click on the next slide, or him giving you that weird stare publicly, the presentation goes surprisingly well.

Professor Lee compliments the presentation you both give, even mentioning how this might be the first time the two of you are on the same side, and it creates great results, detailed and insightful. Minho manages to look smug and say, “She just took control of the situation, that’s all we need.”

You almost choke.

As soon as the class is dismissed, you know exactly what Minho is going to do.

“Hey, (Y/n) - “

“I need to talk to you.”

Minho’s eyes widen in surprise when you say it at the same time, then the surprise look melts into a goofy grin, like he’s relieved. You mirror it unconsciously.

“Sure, wanna go somewhere?”

As you both bask in each other’s presence, you don’t notice Kibum and Jonghyun staring intensely when you leave the class side by side. Kibum nudges the brunet curiously. 

"They seem different, don’t they?”

"But did you see? Minho is clearly eye-fucking her."

Kibum smirks. “I win.”

“Fuck you.” Jonghyun groans in realization, preparing his wallet.

+++

The walk back to Minho’s dorm room is in silence. It’s not necessarily uncomfortable, but you still prefer a lighter situation with the tall male by your side. He seems to understand the hesitance, or rather, he prefers to wait until you start.

So when you sit down on his couch, shoes, and bag discarded neatly, you know the ball's on your court.

As you will yourself, Minho only stares at you longingly. He can’t believe you’re here in his room, although not in his bedroom but his common room instead (he internally cheered when he opened the door and saw no roommate to be found). Yes, he has questions regarding your actions on him last night, but he has a strong guess, and he just can’t wait to have it confirmed.

You always drive him crazy, and it makes him mad that you shared such a moment last night but it doesn’t guarantee him to get to know you more. Or having you more.

“So.” Your voice interrupts his thoughts, perking him up.

“Yeah?” He immediately pushes. Patient, Choi.

“I think we did great just now.”

Minho can’t help but bark a laugh. “Seriously? We fucking did, though.” He begins proudly, earning a pretty smile from you. “Never heard him compliment students so bluntly.”

“Right?” You scoot closer to him, now your knees touching. “I guess something good comes out of this.”

He takes the chance and puts himself on your eye level. “Only that?”

Your eyes widen, shyness taking over as your reply, “Well, not only that.”

Realizing now you both are on the same page, Minho presses even further. "Mm-hm?"

The girl beside him finally sighs. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Minho replies truthfully. “But what happened?”

“I just panicked, you know. Dysphoria and all.”

And with that, his worries are confirmed. He understands that more than anything because those kinds of reactions after reaching climaxes are not uncommon.

“Hey,” he begins, hand reaching out to touch your knee. “I get it, it happens.” A pause. “I had it once, too.”

From the way you stare at him, he knows you’re surprised by the information. But he’s still teetering on the edge, so maybe next time he can indulge you in the story.

For now, he has more things to confirm.

“But did you regret it?”

“No!” You answer a tad too fast. “No, I didn’t.” You finally look him in the eye. “I really loved it.”

“Did you now?” He pushes, a smirk gracing his lips, and his anticipation grows rapidly.

You nod, slightly leaning in closer to his face. “And I’m also wondering if all you said were just words.”

Minho’s breath hitches, “Fuck. Should I prove you wrong again?”

Exceeding his expectations, you grab his hand which is sitting on your kneecap, then move it higher up your inner thigh. Then, you smile mischievously, the sight making Minho dizzy because damn, you’re way prettier in person than in those Zoom calls.

“If you want me that bad, sure.”

He groans. “Oh come on, you’re the one who suggested visiting my room.”

You laugh, and the sound is way too husky to be considered playful. Suddenly, but not surprisingly, you lean in to capture his lips in a kiss, which makes Minho groan immediately.

Minho takes control of the kiss as soon as it starts, cupping your cheek in his palm, and holding your waist with his other hand, gripping them tightly and making you gasp. His tongue immediately invades your mouth, and god you taste so good -

“I’ve wanted to do this since forever.”

“Really?” You pant.

“Fuck, I can’t wait to finally have you all to myself.” He dives back in, devouring your lips and swallowing your whimpers. All his imagination from last night pales in comparison to this, to you actually being in his arms, making the sweetest sounds for his ears.

“I suggest - “ You begin with stuttering breaths after parting so suddenly, “We move to your bedroom.”

Minho smirks. “On it, baby.”

[lokorum]

1 ,6 , 10, 12, 22, 36, 37, 57, 77 for Gortash x Isa ?👀

oh oh ooooooooohhhh thank you so much for your ask!! i hope you'll enjoy reading it!! <;3

1. who’s the primary protector of the two?

hmm, i can easily see at least a couple of reasons why tav if they are durge - gonna be fiercely protective of gortash and vice versa since they're the only two "survivors" of aaaaaall this mess they themselves created years ago. so i think they are kinda on the same lvl here? (especially after events of bg3 uuhhh)

but also - their understanding of "protection" is very different. for isa it's all about making sure that no one in the same room with gortash has access to sharp objects. (he kills rivals, neutralizes threats -that kind of stuff). while enver on the other hand protects through being extra thoughtful - he double checks all possible drawbacks of their plans; willingly spends time to manipulate\misinform people about anything related to bhaal's church; makes sure isa has the best gear and equipment, all that jazz!!

6. who holds a grudge the longest? definitely 10000% i'm absolutely certain - its gortash. if he turns out not to be the most vengeful bitch across the whole sword coast (and the one with a very good memory too) - i'm guilty of misinterpreting this character and should be punished by romancing someone super cute and kind (please dont do this to me).

what made me think that way is a sweet combo of his delusional perception of the world + his self-esteem, i guess? though in more close relationships i imagine him being the kind of person who, when offended, either becomes cold and distant, basically silent-treats you, or acts like nothing happened bc he can't\doesn't have time to process the situation. healthy coop mechanisms? i bet this stinky lil men never heard about them.

isa, well, isa is more of a "i deserve to bleed" kinda person............

10. which of the two is quick to speak and which one is quick to listen? ohhhhhh on any day of the week - gortash is a talkative one!! and isa are getting their "very good boi" badge and a cake for saying more than 100 words in one day (it rarely happens) 

12. which of the two rolls their eyes the most often? gortash thinks it's him but he is wrong. 

22. Who gets more easily embarrassed? gortash thinks it's not him, but it is. 

36.  who’s better at dealing with emotional trauma? WELL to paraphrase wendigoon: between planning to usurp all toril and going to the therapy - they chose violence.

37. who’s more foulmouthed? since isa's vocabulary consists mostly of "um", "ha?" and "heh", gortash once again is our winner! i think his criminal past left a mark on his speech, no matter how he plays all lordy and nobly these days. piss him off - and im 99,9% sure you'll hear something coooooolourful. 

57. who’s got the highest pain tolerance? ohhh definitely isa for this one!! they can go days and days without treating their wounds, and they are horrible at realising they're wounded in the first place! broken bones, broken and exposed bones, deep cuts, bruises, concussions, knocked out teeth, burned skin, sliced skin, frostbitten skin, you name it - they had it. the way isa treats their body deeply horrified enver when he noticed the pattern but tbh??? sometimes i look at enver and think that he is one of those ppl who will lie down and cry if you slap them 

77. who's more likely to execute their threats? both!! it's a family activity. 

phphph ive made memes...............................................................................................................................................

[idleorbitals]

OF ep 2 watch through ...part 2

(part 1)

sand he was inviting both of you *so* explicitly what is your move here. sand will complain repeatedly about this into the next scene but no one asked him to cancel his date. baby is in denial

side note ray enjoying begging sand so much?? side note also this is how we find out ray blacked out and sand left him their last night together? ouch

ohhhkay the extensive flirting in the car. "one night stand boy, huh?" sand patently enjoying himself /so/ much but whining the whole way. they are both in trouble and neither of them know it yet but sand is going to find out really soon and ray is not going to find out until they both are in much more trouble

top has trauma-induced insomnia and he's serious enough about it to make this face. I'm still proud of mew for checking if he was trying to pull one on him and then being kind about it when it seemed like he wasn't

alright tho didn't we just establish that your much comfier bed is right over there? mew no one did this to you but yourself

I like these mockumentary cutscenes more than I thought I would. mew silently smirking as he checks off boxes is doing heavy narrative lifting and I'm into it

the foreboding music the lighting the lingering on the photo of ray and mew boston what are you planning?? is he about to become a real antagonist? can't decide how I feel about this

ray is sort of into sand insulting him? is this because he doesn't have the power to hurt him yet or masochistic kink

...ray baby no. you're gonna be Learning

sand brings up the /who are you, my dad?/ except this time it's /who am I, your dad?/ convo again and ray makes this face:

alright

alright

oh here we. fokking go

sand going "what am I supposed to be, your hooker" and ray saying "sure" and sand doing soft surprised pikachu for like ten seconds. ray doubling down and sand telling him to save it. instead of saying "I don't sleep with people for money" he says "I sleep with people I like for free" and we send silent thanks to screenwriters who understand the sex industry and have the cultural vocabulary to write compelling nuanced and still quippy conversations about sex. not to be heterophobic but queer people make better tv

anyway sandray are both playing a game and they both keep getting surprised to be one-upped. this is a very enjoyable dynamic to watch and they seem to be enjoying it too

...for now

at minute 8:30 sand's last vocal sound leaves his mouth. for thirty full seconds ray smokes and asks him leading flirty questions including "am I interesting enough for you?" and "are you open to someone like me?" and for thirty full seconds sand looks from rays right eye to his left eye and back again and lowers and raises his jaw infinitesimally and just generally:

this boy is done for and I can't even be mean about it I'm right there with him

anyway at shortly after minute 9 they break the tension and kiss each other. they kiss each other! ray is the one leaning around from his cigarette to do khaotung's little smoke plume of high art but sand is very much matching him in coming in for this kiss. I love this framing so much. firstkhao have the absolutely ideal dynamic to pull this off*

*if anyone saw that one person copy pasting SANDRAYYYY SWITCHHH into the live comment box the entire end credits that wasn't me but I was there with them in spirit

they break away and sand says if they go further they won't just be friends and ray says some kinds of friendship start from sex you watched the same thing I watched I don't need to describe it but here I am. do you remember though that this was the look ray was giving sand while he said that because ho boy

sand pronouncing that ray is going to keep wanting him but they're going to stay just friends right after he says we won't be just friends after this...what level to tackle this on. narratively this definitely feels like foreshadowing and I think he's right on the money on the first bit. but we know that sand is not going to get out of this remotely unscathed whether or not it could possibly be argued that he hasn't already lost that battle. sand showing his hand by contradicting himself out loud as well as internally?

they stub out their cigarettes Significantly and start making out again. can't coherently screencap this scene. it's so excellently done. top notch dynamic again. firstkhao are getting better at this with every go.

ok I do have one minor gripe

for some reason in the middle of sand pushing ray back onto the couch they have inserted a shot of ray on top of sand. it is from the beat that comes after the last little mockumentary cutscene—it's not a double, it's the exact same shot, just colored differently. screenshots below from 10:11 and 11:02

editing mistake? intentional insert to lengthen the scene? I like this shot too but it breaks up the flow of the scene oddly and I want it gone from the first part

mockumentary cutscene: even harder to focus on when I know what's coming back on screen right after but worth mention. obviously sand is reflecting on some past mistakes here. he knows he's playing with fire and he's denying it vocally and also not changing his behavior. self-awareness level relatable honestly. do we think he fell in love with someone he didn't want to? or fell in love freely and then got screwed over? why is he mr. one night stand boy

also don't know whether to credit ray or khaotung for this longest gayest look ever at his own pants. sublime

okay back to the couch for our not-quite-ten-second final indulgence. ray's on top this time. I don't even like sex scenes that much I know what I am saying

I see, like sand's, my words are not matching my actions. and yet

*trembling* sandray.... switch....

all ofts watch throughs

[xd3str0yax]

Sweetheart

Diabetic teacher Steve & teacher Billy

Being a teacher was time consuming to say the least. Getting time alone during the day was a rare occurrence for him between classes and tutoring students during his off period and the students eating in his classroom during lunch. It was no secret that he was one of the more popular teachers.

What was a secret though, was why he always seemed to have his biceps covered. No matter the weather, he always made a clear effort to keep his upper arms hidden. That raised the question among his students: ‘what was Mr. Harrington hiding?’.

-•-•-•-

“How many times do I have to tell you two? Quit talking!” He typically didn’t mind his students whispering to each other during class but he’d been irritable the whole class period. “Now, I’ve noticed many of you are struggling with imagery in your essays. The key to effective imagery is good vocabulary…” He trailed off a bit as he spoke, feeling sick.

“Um… go ahead and note imagery in your independent reading books.” He said as he sat down at his desk. The behavior change was noticed by the class but with how on edge he’d been, everyone decided to keep their mouths shut.

Steve broke his ‘no phones’ policy, using it to check his CGM: continuous glucose monitor. “Fuck.” He muttered, unfortunately loud enough to earn snickers from a few students near his desk. His blood sugar level was only 57 mg/dl, AKA, too low.

He opened up his snack drawer… empty. “Crap… this is fine, everything’s fine.” He whispered to himself. Lunch was in an hour, he could wait til then. He sipped his water, hoping it would help soothe his nausea. He rested his head on his desk, hoping his students wouldn’t notice how sick he looked.

15 minutes had gone by and he felt like he was spinning. He looked up, visibly pale & disoriented, as he heard a knock and the classroom door opening. The students looked worried as they eyed their haggard teacher and the stranger approaching him. They began quietly speaking amongst themselves, unsure of what was going on.

-•-•-•-

Being a middleschool art teacher was a more relaxed job than Billy expected. He gave a lesson at the beginning of class then gave his students the rest of the time to work. After those first 30 minutes of class, he mostly just watched the class and pretended not to find humor in the many penises the hoard of pre-teens created.

He was talking to a student about an art contest she had entered when an alarm went off on his phone. He interrupted himself and rushed to his desk to check his husband’s blood sugar.

Billy went to get a teacher to cover his class while he rushed to the highschool. He grabbed the emergency bag from his car and ran over. He knew Steve had a habit of neglecting himself but he still expected Steve to take care of it after the first two alerts. Now though, it was his time to take over.

-•-•-•-

“Bills? What’re you doing here?” Steve asked. “You cant keep doing this to yourself, sweetheart.” Billy stated, coming around the desk and kneeling in front of him. The brunette’s cheeks flushed a bit as he realized all eyes in the room were on them.

“Im fine, babe.” Steve weakly protested as Billy took a case out of the desk and unzipped it. “I’m not gonna let you have a seizure in front of a bunch of teenagers just because you’re stubborn.” He said as he pricked the other man’s finger and squeezed the blood onto the test strip.

Steve was embarrassed and he wanted to be upset with Billy for double checking his blood sugar in front of his class but he knew he was right. He tried to hide his face a bit, he hated when people saw him while managing his diabetes. Even after over a decade with it, he’s still just as shy about it now as he was as a kid.

His thoughts were interrupted by Billy handing him a bottle of apple juice & bag of pretzels, it was small but should get his blood sugar up enough so he doesn’t die while waiting for his lunch break. He finished the carbs and decided to introduce the living spectacle that was lingering in the room, waiting so they could get lunch together.

“Class… this is my husband Bi- Mr. Hargrove. He’s a teacher at the middle school and he’s gonna be staying the rest of the period.” He managed to resist the urge to call Billy by his first name and then gave him the floor.

Billy was slightly panicked as the rooms attention turned to him. He wasn’t good with teenagers, that’s the main reason he didn’t become a highscool teacher. “Uh, hi! I’m Billy- or Mr. Hargrove- either one’s fine. I’m an art teacher at the middle school right across the street.”

He paused for a moment and leaned back over to Steve. “Is it ok if I explain it to them?” He asked in a hushed voice. Once he got permission, he faced the class again. “Basically, Mr. Harrington’s body can’t regulate its blood sugar so sometimes it’ll get really low and he can pass out or have seizures or die, or it can get really high and stuff can build up in his blood and he can go into a coma or die.”

He started explaining the different types of diabetes while Steve kept an eye on his blood sugar, eating carbs accordingly. Honestly, he thinks its a bit cute: all the stuff Billy’s learned just to help take care of him. It would’ve been so easy for Billy to just leave him to deal with it alone but he didn’t.

He watched billy dreamily, a fond smile crept onto his face as he started tuning back in to the conversation. At some point, Billy’s rambling turned from diabetes to a debate with a student about basketball. He loves watching those blonde curls bounce as he gets more animated when he talks about things he’s passionate about.

Billy finished his debate and came back over to check Steve again. “You feeling better, sweetheart?” He asked as he checked the monitor again. A smile growing on his face as he saw it was a somewhat normal amount again. He pressed a gentle kiss to his husbands forehead as the bell rang.

[captainnickfoligno]

i had this revelation a couple of weeks ago during the game against the flyers. the camera was on athanasiou and he was looking up at the jumbotron and he honestly looked kind of stupid and i had this superflash of a thought--i love that guy. i love his play. he never fucking quits. tank was not in his vocabulary. i missed him a lot while he was on ltir.

and then i thought about bedard and how lightheaded i got when we drafted him and how incredible he's turned out to be, better than i had even hoped bc he plays for my team. i've already waxed poetic about the fishbowl helmet but it really does bring me a certain type of joy every time i see it, bc the sight of it means he went through something and he still came out the other side guns blazing. he's gonna win the calder but it wouldn't matter to me if he didn't bc i love him too.

korchinski and foligno and kurashev and mrazek and dickinson and entwhistle and tyjo and blackwell and reichel and murph and on and on and on. i love those guys, the ones we haven't seen for five months bc of injury and the ones who've had hot streaks this season like you wouldn't believe and the ones you lowkey forget about until you see their name on the scoresheet.

i looked at athanasiou and then i texted my partner "this team makes me aware of my capacity for love" and then they beat the flyers 5-1 and i said "i think they heard me" and he said "i think they did."

my friend, who doesn't follow hockey but checks the standings occasionally, asked me the other day, in a manner that was clearly bracing to sympathize, "so how are we feeling about the blackhawks," and i was really excited to say, i love this team so much. the doomerism of being a bottom 2 team comes so naturally for me that i think for a long time i was defaulting to it, and it was a little bit of a shock to my system to realize i don't feel that way at all. even when they get shut out. even when--forgive me--soderblom starts. there's something going on that feels really good, to say nothing of what's to come. i'm not even thinking about celebrini. they keep signing players who are so exciting. prospects whose names have become like a litany. jaxson stauber is collecting franchise firsts in rockford like someone double dog dared him to. the future looks so bright in chicago. i love this fucking team.

[fucktheroyals]

If you don’t understand how to do basic things on a computer PLEASE go to a local library (if your local library is out of the way, I would hope you can use google to find the number and call. I know calling is scary but basic understanding of computer use is important in this day and age.) and ask them if they have something set up to where you can take basic skills classes on computers.

Many libraries will get you LinkedIn learning or something like it for free or a low cost. They have basic computer knowledge classes you can take on there, you just watch the videos. Have patience!

I would say the biggest problem people who “don’t know how to use technology” have is that they don’t READ the words on their screens and they don’t have patience. Don’t be afraid to press buttons! Nothing should explode on you (unless you’re in some special situation, in which I hope someone with low technology skills would know not to deal with that special technology). Breathe! By god, google “relaxation techniques I can use when I’m frustrated.” Step away from the computer for a bit.

On many programs they have a section that says “Help” and you can usually type what ur wanting to do in and the feature will come up. I wouldn’t say all programs that have this feature do it, but you don’t have to know vocabulary to find the feature.

Keep in mind everyone I know who has good technology skills have them through practice (using a lot of different programs over years) and learning how to use those programs by pressing buttons and finding out what things do.

And lastly anybody who is willing to show you how to use computers needs you to do your part! I know typing is hard and they could do it much faster but that’s why most people don’t want to help, do what you can do, double check your spelling! I’m not gonna rant because I get it’s just as difficult to not know how to do things but it’s very frustrating to have work you don’t know how to do pushed off on us and it’s why many people lose the patience to help.

[blocksruinedme]

SMALLETHO WEEK STATUS: PENULTIMATE REPORT

(please let this be penultimate report)

Okay I have 11 hours to get these out in saturday my time zone and i am going to do it, or i'll take my me off and throw me in the lake (it's right there down the street I'll do it.)

You'd think they'd be done by now. You'd think given how many days ago they were first "basically drafted" they'd be done right now. But noooo, some bitch (me) decided the fic "deserve more" and there are scenes "they really need" and like fine yes I still agree but why can't they just be done.

Red Life fic:

the first three sections are about incidents after turning red than made etho go "huh" about joel. they serve their purpose, but currently exist mostly in the form i scrawled down on the back of another fic in my car after the dentist. I could def describe things more, add a little more reflection about their place in the double life ecosystem as they start murdering and burning

gotta make good kiss at end, and the last bits of lead in, and the little bit after

the main issues here is that i gotta go rewatch DL ep 4 from multiple POVs. at minimum i need pearl's pov of dying, and maybe check for some other people's reactions to joel's shit that are not in smalletho vids but in universe they would have heard. (if only i could shove knowledge of every traffic episode fully into my head, sigh. so much content.

so that's not too bad!

fuck me there's 36 [] around words i don't like/phrases that need to be replaced/etc. fml fml fml

LARPer au morning after fic

apparently i'm adding all this backstory, which means i got to take it out o the author's notes, which i hope will make it more appealing. it's mostly about the party that this is morning after, but it's joel pov and *very* focused on getting laid, he's kinda aware that a lot of shit went down for pretty much everyone else

i want to add a very quick awkward bit with joel asking jimmy about the party the night before, currently he's totally succeeding at making joel (who is very distracted) think he's fine. and it's not gonna get explained in this story, but i'm not setting up a giant mystery, it's just more of "joel missed some shit last night". if that upsets people... i'm sorry! i'm actually very new t writing fic but it feels fine? it's a 5k story, alluding to the rest of the world seems fine

then it's just, fuck holding my breath... 40 sets of []. many many many of them, when i have people look at them, they say "that's fine", and it's just me at "will i have a time to struggle for a synonym/rephrasing

Dear everyone who compliments my writing skill (which i love, keep on doing it)

i hope you are not comparing yourself to me. here's some reasons why i probably have a leg (several legs?) up on you

i am very old and have been writing in one way or another possibly since before you could write.

I legit used to teach sat prep in writing, i have been trained in this and made money on it

if you live like i do, when you are my age you will also have a pretty big vocabulary

i usually edit a lot. I get beta, i throw problem sentences and such at friends, i've gotten proofreading from actual professionals. If i published most of my first drafts, well. I might not get as many "well written" compliments (though i think my plot and characterization would be similar levels of quality, my voices not so much - i have google docs for the way people talks and go through my dialogue looking for places to change things. it's actually great. i could share it?)

it's wild that what is my most popular fic by 3x is the one that went from thought of to posted in <12 hours and thus had only quick editing. so, it's not alway from editing

i just never want anyone who doesn't have those things to compare themself negatively to me, y'know? That said I'm a hypocrite, I compare myself negatively to professional writers in other fandoms. So, do as i say, etc

am i avoiding getting back to writing? yes

back to joel talking about asking scott to help him get tarted up

okay one last thing, me being pleased with my writing - i am jumping between my early 20s larper au and my late 20s/30s burning man au, and i think i am doing a good job at giving age appropriate characterizations to similar version of the same characters. my 21 year old Etho feels 21 to me and my early 30s Etho feels early 30s to me. These ensembles are very much based on my own experiences so I've got a lot to work with, 60 year olds would be harder :)

[f10werfae]

Chris evan is happily dating a British singer reader and their vocabulary is very different, they would sometimes (lovingly) argue about it

Shag Me?

Pairing:husband!Chris Evans x British Singer!Reader

Word count: 898

Summary: Despite being together for so long, Chris and Y/n still have to get over their “language barrier”

Warnings: none really

-

Requests are open!

Likes, Comments and Re-blogs are appreciated♥️

➼ Chris Evans Masterlist 💫

➼ masterlist ✨

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

(Y/n's P.O.V)

“Chris love, have you seen my pen anywhere?” I said ruffling through my office, my lyric pad sitting empty in front of me.

“Nope, have you checked your coat pocket?”

He said peeking into the office while carrying Dodger, eventually letting him down as Dodger walked to his spare bed in my office.

“You are a lifesaver” I said sitting down and grabbing the pen from the coat pocket, immediately jotting down any ideas that were floating around my head.

“Ya need anythin while you’re workin' bub?”

“Can you get me some chips please, i’ve been craving them for ages” I pouted looking at him at the doorway, watching him shake his head laughing before nodding at my request

“THANK YOU” I shouted out hearing the front door close, a smile on my face as I realised my craving would be fulfilled.

(15 minutes later)

“Alright baby, I got your chips” Chris said out of breath, throwing a packet of Lays crisps onto the desk.

“What is this?” I asked picking it up with my hand, confused as to why he got me crisps

“You asked for chips?”

“Yeah like the yellow things you order at mcdonalds, not crisps”

“I see what’s happened” Chris said stifling a laugh, his hand immediately going to his left boob to stop himself from doubling over.

“Fahk sake” I swore with my head in my hands, feeling myself start to get amused at the situation

“Sorry what did you say baby? Did you just say 'fahk' with a Bostonian accent?”

“I did?” My eyes wide, Chris coming into my office to lean onto my table with his hands, his biceps instantly flexing.

“Looks like you’ve been here long enough with me eh?”

“Ugh stop being a twat” Looking at my husband with what was an attempt at a glare, before he swooped in and placed a kiss on my lips.

“Can’t you let me at least be mad at you for a second?” I huffed leaning back in my chair, a triumphant look on his at his successor of making me smile.

“Nope. Now i’m gonna go get your 'chips’ okay your highness” He said in a mocking British accent, bowing at the doorway and with that the front door was open and closed again.

“Your dad is such an eejit” I said looking at Dodger who was watching the whole situation with his head on his paws, clearly not amused one bit.

(30 minutes later)

“Okay I finally got ya your fries your majesty” Chris announced walking into my office with a large McDonalds bag in his hand.

“Okay but why’s the bag absolutely massive?”

“I got you a few portions, don’t know how long you’ll be in 'ere for”

“You are just so thoughtful aren’t you, such a gentleman” I said getting up from my office chair and pulling him towards me by the hem of his jacket.

“Stop teasing me you Brit, you’ve got work to do. By the way you’ve spelled colour wrong in your lyrics. It doesn’t have a 'u'”

“You always have to ruin the moment” I scoffed pushing him away watching as another chuckle vibrated through him.

“Plus you guys just changed the spelling, it’s always had a 'u' for your information”

“I know I know baby, 'am jus playin with ya. You know I jus love getting you all riled up and bothered, makes you even sexier”

Chris said in a sultry voice, walking to my side of the desk and nuzzling his head into the side of my neck as his hands massaged my shoulders

“you’re crazy” Turning my head to the side I placed a kiss on his beard covered face,

“You know my lips are right here bub right?”

His hands holding onto my chin to make me face him, his breath fanning over my face, his lips ghosting over mine before settling in for a soft warm kiss.

“You’re funny baby, and I love it” I said laughing at his antics, he looked down at my lyric pad before asking what one of the words meant.

“Babe what is 'shagging'?”

“It means to fuck babe, jus in British slang terms”

“Oh so can we like, shag or something?”

“Once i’m done baby, it’ll be like another half an hour or something” Nodding at my answer, he decided he had nothing better to do so he just sat opposite me on another office chair just playing about with dodger.

(30 Minutes later)

“There we go, Bob’s your uncle” I said slamming the pen onto the page, rolling my shoulders in success.

“Bob’s my what?” Chris asked confused

“It’s an expression for like 'its done' if you will” I said standing up from my office seat, my hand going to massage my tail bone area before it was beaten by Chris' hand deeply massaging.

“You’re bloody brilliant babe, I know I said yes for a reason” I joked, gasping when I felt him send a hard slap to the back of my thighs.

“Now I think someone said we could shag” Chris said in a very American accent.

“Please love, never say shag again, it doesn’t suit your handsome face” I laughed putting an abundance of kisses onto his chest and bicep.

“Maybe you gotta shag the shag outta me bub” He said teasingly,

“Oh it’s so on, you prick”

[tangsakura]

「甘えてんの?」 -  What Does it Mean?

Enjoy, especially the hisomachi shippers.

Warnings: if you haven’t read chapter 357 of Hunter x Hunter, then it’s gonna be spoiler so don’t go any further if that's the case; bad grammar; unedited; typos.  

「甘えてんの?」 - what does this mean?

In the JP-EN dictionaries, you'll probably mostly see the following definitions for 甘える:

To be someone spoiled or to act like one (e.g. demanding attention, asking for things, seeking affection)

To take advantage of or depend on (an emotion, goodwill, feelings, etc.)

Others also shared the other meanings in the following: Link 1, Link 2, Link 3 (you can google '甘える' and read HiNative forums too or other forums as well; you might need a google translator if you’re gonna go to a Japanese forum or read something in Japanese)

Here's what the dictionary I tend to use for Japanese classes say: Link 4

(Also, it may also have to do with this concept of 甘え, which exists in the Japanese culture to understand: Link 1, Link 2)

When I first read the official raws, I assumed Hisoka was saying something along the lines of "Whining like a little spoiled brat, are you?", "Demanding my attention, are you?" or "Being a spoiled brat, are you?". Because I wouldn't be surprised if Hisoka sees Machi's anger as an act of a spoiled person or some sort.

So I went to check if that's also what the translations would say. When I read the unofficial and official English versions, I was kinda surprised at their translations. Well, more like shocked for the unofficial one actually.

The unofficial English translation goes like this:

On the other hand, the official one goes like this:

I get that the official English translation went for the second definition of the verb 甘える, assuming that Hisoka was talking about his love for her or whatever that love is. The only problem is that we don't really know if he was really referring to love, goodwill, or whatnot. So it may makes sense, but not perfectly capture the whole thing.

But on the unofficial translation? I don't know what the translator(s) of the scans were on when doing this page or chapter. I guess they derived the meaning the word, 甘い. It can mean two things: 'Sweet' & 'Naive.' It uses the same kanji as 甘える, and probably assumed the verb itself meant 'being naive' or something like that. So, the translation ended up being like 'Being naive, are you?' and then the proofreader and the QC person probably were like 'uhh.... let's make it more natural in terms of the situation'. As a result, we have that line of 'Excuse me? Who do you think I am?' line.

I also searched for the Korean translation of this page to see how they translated it, and I'm lucky I found it on Twitter.

They translated it as 'Making a fuss, are you?', 'Being whiny, are you?' somewhere along those lines. Basically close to what I assumed when I read the original Japanese line. But obvs, it may not be exact.

So to answer the question, 「甘えてんの?」 does directly mean 'Acting like a spoiled brat, are you?', 'Whining like a brat, are you?', 'Seeking my attention?' or somewhere along those lines according to the first definition or others in those links. It makes a lot more sense in the context, considering Hisoka's vocabulary and personality.

But then again, Hisoka is into those double entendres sh*t a lot, so while he may be saying those lines, he might also be referring to some sort of feeling like he might be saying 'depending on my good will or favour or love for you?'. Or he could also have a third meaning on it. Who knows wtf this clown was on or was thinking about at the moment.

Anyways, this was a hard one because there's many ways to translate this, and since there's limited space on the speech bubble, translators have to pick the one that suits the most. Honestly, even I had to think about what Hisoka might be or what else he might expressing in that question whenever I had to re-read it.

Please share what you think is the meaning of that phrase now that you know what the verb means. This is probably the only time I want other people's insight so much on this.

----

PS: @wurud, I tried my best to answer as you requested. I hope it helps you understand what Hisoka means in this panel.

[miekasa]

the babysitter’s club (1)

+ pairing: levi ackerman + (fem) reader, featuring bright-eyed but very easily intimidated interns and part-time babysitters eren and armin who are trying their best

+ genres and warnings: modern au, parents au, fluff, yes the dog’s name is captain and he’s tiny what about it

+ summary: eren and armin are good subordinates, who happen to be pretty good babysitter, too. usually. 

+ word count: 2.7k

+ notes: this was just something fun i edited and reworked again, also to provide some more insight about dad levi and my oc kids; this focuses only on holden, who is the oldest of the bunch, but you’ll more about the rest as they go

It’s not that Levi doesn’t trust Holden’s babysitters, he just would rather watch over her himself. Moreover, he would rather have the time to spend with his small daughter instead of having to leave her in the care of someone else who isn’t you, but sometimes life gets busy, and babysitters come in real handy.

He still doesn’t understand why Erwin would schedule the both of you to attend such important work-related meetings on the same weekend; much less, to send you half-way around the world for yours, and then book Levi for damn near twelve hours on a Saturday. He would murder Erwin if he weren’t his direct boss, and a long-time friend. But shit happens, and while it’s a major inconvenience and pain in his ass to be working on a weekend, it’s good to know he could rely on the brats at the office to step up on such short notice.

“I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that if anything happens, I won’t hesitate to dismember you,” Levi says calmly, closing his briefcase after triple-checking its contents.

“Of course,” Armin stiffens visibly, awkward laughter seeping through his words, “Eren and I would never let anything happen to Holden.”

To his left, Holden has already tugged Eren to the coffee table for a game of children’s Scrabble, determined to show off her new skills. Levi smiles slightly as he remembers playing the game with her last week, and how awe-struck she was to have seen Levi create a word bigger than “unattainable”—which is currently the longest word in her four-year-old vocabulary. But he’s certain she would have no trouble beating Eren.

He gives Armin a slight nod. He knows Holden is in good hands; or good enough hands with Armin, anyway. It’s not the first time the duo has babysat, and for as air-headed and clumsy Eren could be at the office, he seemed to be pretty damn good with kids if Holden’s attachment to the brunette was anything to go by.

Levi recounts that you’ve questioned on multiple occasions why Eren was so dedicated to being your PA when he seemed to have a potential career in taking care of, and maybe even teaching children. Not that he’s not a good assistant to you, but he’s certainly not as organized or detailed-oriented as Armin. Levi shrugs away the thought. Eren’s career choices are none of his business; his only concern is that he keeps his daughter safe and sound.

“Right. My card is on the kitchen island, you can buy lunch and dinner or whatever, I don’t think there’s much in the fridge,” Levi informs Armin. He looks briefly to the clock on the wall; he really should get going. “Remember to walk Captain at some point, and no matter what Holden says, he absolutely does need a leash on him. If Erwin isn’t being a complete asshat, I’ll be home by nine. (Y/N) will probably still be on her flight, so call me if you need anything.”

Armin nods enthusiastically, promising Levi that they would take care of everything. They’d better.

“Alright, I’m heading out,” Levi announces, pulling his keys from the table near the door, “Be good, Holden. Tell Armin and Eren if you need anything.”

Holden’s head perks up at the sound of her name. Elegantly, or as elegantly as a four-year-old can be, she stands from her seated crisscross position, to run over to Levi by the door. He should remind her that she should use walking feet inside the house, but he can’t bring himself to, instead crouching down to meet her height.

“Bye, daddy,” she tells him sweetly. Levi reaches a hand out to ruffle the top of her head, much to the small girl’s chagrin. She sports a grimace almost identical to his as he reaches up to try and smooth out the aftermath of her father’s affections, “Daddy!”

Levi can’t help but chuckle, reaching two fingers out to poke at his daughter’s forehead. “Be good. I’ll be back soon.”

“Mommy too?”

Levi sighs, “No, mommy doesn’t come back until Tuesday.”

“That’s four days away,” Holden’s doesn’t hesitate to express her dissatisfaction. Levi nods, a little proud of how quickly she’d calculated that in her head, “Can Eren stay until Tuesday?”

“No, Eren cannot.”

“Oh, that’s too bad,” Holden crinkles her nose. Levi really has got to do something about her fascination with Eren.

Holden looks backwards to where Eren is still seated around the coffee table, he and Armin watching the father-daughter duo. After reconciling with the fact that Eren does, in fact, have his own home to go back to at the end of the day, Holden turns back around, and holds her hand up, palm facing Levi. He does the same, bringing his larger palm to hers, so that her hand is pushed against the middle of his.

Not one for hugs, kisses, or larger displays of affection, Holden simply turns her palm so that her hand grabs around Levi’s as best as possible, hooking her thumb around his pinky finger—what Levi’s heard the young girl call a hand hug.

“Bye, daddy,” she repeats, squeezing his hand, “Come back soon.”

Levi bends his fingers to wrap around her hand, “I will.”

“Keep an eye on her,” Levi reminds Armin and Eren, after standing back up and gripping his briefcase in his hand, “Don’t cause too much trouble.”

“Holden never causes trouble,” Eren says in response, but his words are spoken in coos to the young girl, who’s already back at his side. 

Levi scoffs, “I was talking to you.” 

“We’ll be fine, boss, don’t worry,” Eren chuckles with an awkward blush, “We love looking after Holden.”

“I’m not your boss,” Levi deadpans, double-checking his pockets for his keys, “You’d better hope everything is fine. Call me if anything happens, I’ll be back soon.” 

With one final round of good-byes, and a wave from his daughter, Levi’s out the door, and stepping into his car with a grimace. It was just one stupid day out of his life. Besides, Holden would be fine with Armin and Eren; she always is. Levi is just grumpy that he can’t be the one to spend the day with her. 

He sighs, reluctantly, putting his keys in the ignition. The sooner he got this over with, the sooner he could come back to Holden. Everything would be fine in the meantime; for now, he had to focus on how he was going to get himself to sit through Erwin’s long-ass meeting. 

“Levi! Hi! Um… okay, so don’t freak out, but Armin and I are at the hospital with Holden right now—don’t freak out—because there was a small incident at lunch—don’t freak out and fire me please—but! It’s all gonna be okay, they’re already treating her and she’s doing fine now, so don’t freak—”  

“Tell me not to freak out one more fucking time and I’ll castrate Armin and feed you his balls myself.”

“You sound a little freaked out,” Eren placates, wincing and holding his phone away from his ear when Levi growls in response.

“You have five seconds to tell me what you two idiots did to my daughter and explain why I shouldn’t decapitate you immediately.”

“It’s a funny story, actually—so, um, we think Holden might be allergic to nuts…?”

“What do you mean might be, Jaeger?”

Eren can feel his heart in his throat. He eyes Armin on the other side of Holden’s hospital bed. He looks no better—color almost completely drained from his face, but Eren doesn’t think he can say much else to his boss before his knees give out from underneath him.

“Uh, well, it was a lot of technical terms, and—I—um, actually I’m going to let Armin explain!” Eren hurries, all but chucking his phone at the unsuspecting blonde.

Armin’s blue eyes look almost grey with anxiety, but before he can protest, Eren is flailing his hands and pointing fingers and reminding him that Levi will kill them both if he doesn’t start talking.

Reluctant, and terrified, Armin finally lifts the phone to his ear, stuttering out a pathetic hello, but Levi cuts him off before he can say anything else.

“Save it. Send me your location, and pray I don’t kill you when I get there.” Armin chokes out a “yes, sir,” before slowly bringing the phone down to his side.

The good news is that Holden’s allergic reaction wasn’t too severe: her throat had been irritated, and hives had emerged as a result, but it hadn’t been closing up. And luckily, Eren had the endurance to run nearly a mile and half with a four year old tucked under his arm; because with the traffic Armin observed whilst he and Captain huffed and lagged behind, it would have taken thrice as long to get Holden to the ER had they waited and called for an ambulance.

Even better was that Holden was an unnervingly calm kid, even whilst having an allergic reaction. She looked almost back to normal now, save for a few red looking blotches on her neck and upper arm; and seemed more than content to be watching a video on Eren’s phone, despite the situation. She was a little bummed out to find out that she could never eat the new ice cream she liked so much ever again, but she seemed to quickly get over it once Eren reminded her that there were lots of other flavors out there for her to try. Flavors that wouldn’t make her choke to death.

Still, Eren and Armin could probably kiss their jobs goodbye, seeing as they had nearly just poisoned their bosses’ daughter. Holden seemed to like them enough, but, unfortunately, Holden wasn’t the Ackerman who signed their checks.

At the very least, Eren doesn’t think you’ll be too upset with him. He doesn’t think you’ll be ecstatic to hear that while you were away on your already inconvenient work-trip on the other side of the globe, that he also managed to land your daughter in a hospital bed… but you were the more forgiving one. Then again, maybe not so forgiving when it comes to the health and wellbeing of your daughter. 

Eren falls back against the wall in dread. You weren’t even in the same country as him and he was worried about what you might say or do to him. Levi was probably less than twenty minutes away and fully capable of beheading him.

“You… uh, you think the Interior Branch is still looking for interns?” Eren breaks the silence, looking towards Armin, who’s taken the seat next to Holden’s bed, petting Captain robotically as the dog sits in his lap.

“I don’t think it matters,” Armin responds, “They won’t hire corpses.”

Fifteen minutes, and several run red lights later, Levi is bursting through the doors to the pediatric wing of the emergency room. He doesn’t care about the old woman at the reception yelling at him for causing a ruckus, or the other parents, doctors, or visitors eyeing him for marching around like he owned the place. Holden was in there somewhere, and he was going to get to her.

“Holden—oh, god, Holden,” Levi coos, frantic, as he marches into Holden’s room, scurrying to the side of her hospital bed. A cold hand reaches up to stroke her face. Angry, red bumps litter the sides of neck, her cheeks are puffier than usual, and the perimeter of her mouth seems a bit irritated, but Levi is relieved. She’s okay, his baby girl is okay.

“’M fine, daddy,” Holden assures him. She’s almost overly-perceptive for her age, able to pick up on her father’s out of character antics, and does her best to console him. “Eren ran with me all the way here when I started coughing and itchin.’”

Levi nods, the dark grey splotches in Holden’s eyes bringing him comfort, ensuring him that she was okay. “They gave me a shot, and I don’t like needles, but I didn’t even cry at all. Ask, Armin and Eren, they saw! Captain, too.”

“Brave girl,” Levi smiles, reaching his hand up to push her hair out of her face then leans over to press a kiss to her forehead.

Levi had almost forgotten that Eren and Armin were in the room until he hears a blundering cough from behind him. The younger boys look petrified, Eren practically shaking in his shoes, while Armin doesn’t even have the confidence to look him in the eye.

“We’re really sorry, Levi,” Eren apologizes, voice scratchy and wobbly, like he’d been the one to just get a shot, “We didn’t know—and when she started coughing and saying she couldn’t breathe, I swear, I ran here as fast as I could—”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s… fine?”

Levi sighs. Maybe he’d been a little harsh with them on the phone, letting his emotions get the best of him. He’d already been pissed off enough to not have the time to spend with Holden this weekend; hearing that she’d been hurt was just the final push over the edge for him, but it wasn’t necessarily Armin or Eren’s fault.

“I didn’t know either,” Levi exhales, reaching at hand out to pet the top of Holden’s head again, the young girl now distracted once again by the phone in her hand, “She’s never had a reaction to anything before, and neither (Y/N) or I have any strong allergies.”

Armin shuffles where he’s standing. “The doctor said she might be allergic to tree nuts. We, uh, we gave her pistachio ice cream after lunch.”

If there’s anything concerning Levi, it’s that they gave Holden ice cream before dinner, but he supposes he can let it go for now.

“Eren told me to try it, and it tasted good, daddy,” Holden interjects, “Before I started coughing, it was good.”

“Ah, well, you can’t—you shouldn’t eat things that make you feel sick!” Eren stutters loudly.

“But it was good,” Holden pouts, “And you said to try new things, Eri. I won’t know if it makes me sick if I don’t try them.”

Levi holds back his laughter. He knows that Holden definitely wouldn’t want to try the same same flavor again knowing now that she was allergic to it; she was just pulling at Eren’s leg. Levi would have to keep an eye out for the stuff anyway, especially if her oh-so-precious Eren has expressed any former love for it. 

“Um, Levi, sir,” Armin calls, pulling Levi’s attention towards the blonde, “We didn’t know if (Y/N) would have landed already, but do you think you should call her, to, um, let her know?”

Levi’s face pales three shades when he realizes that none of them had already informed you that your daughter was currently hospitalized with a new found allergy.

“You can call her,” Levi says, a shudder in his spine at the thought of relaying this information to you, “That’s your death sentence, not mine.”

[sleepless-in-starbucks]

I Want Us Both to Eat Well

Ao3

Summary: Remy might not be great with self-care, but they've got the 'taking care of Logan' thing down to a science. And Logan can work with that. Content: Overworking, mentions of poor eating/sleeping habits, caretaking, it’s pretty soft overall, nonbinary remy Pairing: Losleep

~

Despite what some may think, Logan didn’t have the most demanding of jobs within the mindscape. He wouldn’t call his work a walk in the park, of course, but when he was largely tasked with matters such as scheduling and memory allocation, versus such things as emotional processing or idea creation, Logan had no plans on complaining.

And Logan’s most complicated job? Even less complaints to be figuratively filled, given it was his favorite.

See, for a good while now, Logan had been dating Remy, a figment of the Imagination created by Roman for a one-time vine gag that somehow managed to get enough permanence for themself to function as their own being. For a bit, they had simply wandered about, teasingly flirting with not only the sides but Thomas himself. Something about Logan must have held their attention however, because soon enough he was the only side being ‘bothered’.

It didn’t take long for the feelings of ‘botherment’ to morph into amusement, which furthermore transformed into affection and soon even love. Remy had made a bad attempt at celestial flirting, and despite the inaccuracies, Logan had greatly appreciated the sentiment.

Appreciated it enough to allow “I love you” to escape both his thoughts and mouth, an acknowledgement that had left the two of them in similar states of shock for a whole ten seconds before Remy was in Logan’s lap and doing their damndest to kiss him breathless.

Remy only became more cemented in the inner workings of Thomas’s mind after that, likely a consequence specifically of how much time they were spending in Logan’s room. They were still a figment, but they were rapidly gaining actual responsibilities, things they had to do or else Thomas would directly suffer. Most were connected to sleeping- making sure the sides were rested, bullying Thomas to bed when needed, lining up memories as appropriate to be saved and stored during REM- but some were simply random, the misc assignments settling onto the not-a-side.

Usually, Remy could manage it all without much issue. They would complain heavily, sure, bemoaning the days when they were a free-spirit with nothing to do, almost sounding like Roman when they spoke of the cruelty of fate that such was the price of love, but as long as Logan was there to hum sympathetically and play with their hair, they were good.

Occasionally however… it was too much. Too many late nights and sleepless mornings convincing others to rest, too many memories to pick between and sort, too many tasks all piling up. Remy would get overwhelmed and end up overworked if no one stopped them in time.

Luckily for Remy… they had Logan.

Figuring out that Remy had hit their breaking point wasn’t the easiest thing in the world, the first step of Logan’s ‘job’ therefore being the most difficult. Remy, for all their bellyaching, didn’t want to be perceived as a slacker or irresponsible with their job. With sunglasses, coffee, and their devil-may-care attitude, they could normally fake being alright for a day or two past actually being alright.

But the facade always cracked in the end, and as soon as it did, Logan was there.

So, the second step, taken once Logan recognized those cracks: eat a good and filling breakfast. This step was especially important, and made the list to remind Logan that a coffee and crofters-covered bagel wouldn’t be sufficient.

Next, Logan went about assigning Remy’s usual tasks to the other sides. To Virgil and Patton, enforcing Thomas’s bedtime. To Janus, memory dealings. To Roman and Remus, whichever various misc tasks Remy had at the time. And top it all off with a lecture to the lot of them to sleep well.

(Logan always expected some resistance on this step, and was always surprised to find none. “If you say they need a break, they need a break.” Virgil said one time with a shrug. “We want to help where we can.”)

Then there came the final step: convincing Remy to take a break. To most, this would be the hardest step. Even when all their work was attended to, Remy would insist they had things to do, that they couldn’t just take a break, especially not one as long as Logan would suggest.

Logan wasn’t ‘most’.

Before Logan entered his room (or, more accurately, his and Remy’s room, the figment not having a place outside of the Imagination and therefore opting to move into Logan’s), he double checked that everything was ready.

Breakfast? Eaten.

Time? Well past noon.

Work? Distributed.

Tie? Loosened.

Shirt? Untucked.

“Hotel? Trivago.” (vocabulary cards!)

Logan let himself into his (now shared) room. Remy was sprawled across his (now shared) bed, flipping through their own notecards- the form memories took when viewed within the logical side’s room. Their sunglasses were set aside on Logan’s (now shared) desk, making it easy for Logan to spot the dark bags beneath their eyes.

They glanced up when Logan entered, cocking an eyebrow as they took in his appearance. “You’ve looked better, babe.” Remy commented lightly, though Logan could hear the concern in their voice. “You here to crash? I can move.”

Logan didn’t answer right away, instead walking over to stand in front of Remy. Before his partner could guess what he was doing, Logan had grabbed the memory cards they were sorting, easily willing them away.

Remy’s eyebrow only raised higher. “Alright, yeah, someone needs to take a nap.”

“And that someone would be you.” Logan replied. “Or, more appropriately, someone needs to take several days to rest.”

Remy chuckled. “You sure about that, sweetheart? I wouldn’t think you’d want me falling behind on work, especially for Thomas’s sake.”

“Your work is being handled, Thomas will be fine.” Logan assured, taking a moment to tenderly tuck some of Remy’s hair behind their ear. Remy’s expression softened at the gesture. “I have taken care of everything for you, save one thing.”

“Oh?” Remy prompted, looking vaguely amused by Logan’s approach. “And what’s that one thing, doll?”

With a smile, Logan settled himself in Remy’s lap, arms wrapping lightly around the back of their neck. “Myself.”

Remy’s brow furrowed at the answer, their concern returning full force. “Log-”

“I have not eaten since breakfast,” he neglected to mention it was a large enough breakfast the lack of lunch hadn’t truly affected him, “I am stressed,” he ignored that the stress was Remy-based, “and my appearance is unkempt;” he pretended this was not a very conscious choice, “therefore, I should be resting, and yet, I am not.”

“You do seem tired…” Remy murmured, one of their hands moving to rest steadily on Logan’s hip while the other gently cupped his cheek. Logan appreciated the moment as long as he could, lazily leaning into Remy’s touch while the overworked figment searched his face for more signs of exhaustion.

Then they squinted at him. “Wait. This isn’t some ploy of yours, is it? ‘Cause no offense hun, but this feels a bit too easy. Normally you go running when I try to stop you from working on bad days.”

“I admit I am usually more… difficult about such matters, but I assure you, my love, this is no ploy. That would imply only I benefit from this situation. I think we both would.”

“Oh? How so?”

Logan’s fingers traced random patterns on Remy’s upper back. “You prefer to see me in good health and enjoy taking care of me. I prefer to see you in good health and know that letting you take care of me will subsequently lead to you being taken care of as well.” He kissed Remy’s forehead. “We both benefit, for the sake of not only ourselves, but each other as well.”

Remy sighed, their attempt at annoyance falling rather flat, in Logan’s opinion. “I can tell you’ve planned this out, babe.” Their hand on Logan’s cheek slipped into his hair, lightly scratching at Logan’s scalp.

The logical side involuntarily let out a content hum at the motion, briefly letting his eyes close as he pressed closer against Remy, their hand now supporting more of his head than Logan was. “Mhm, the plan of self-care? I think it’s a good plan.” Logan partially opened his eyes to catch Remy’s gaze. It was fond and sweet, Remy having clearly been swayed by tired Logan. “Do you think it’s a good plan?”

“Yeah.” Remy agreed softly, Logan grinning as he realized he had ‘won’ (really, they had both won, seeing how desperately Remy needed rest, but for the intents and purposes of this particular situation… Logan had won). “It was a great plan, angel.”

Logan allowed his head to be transferred onto Remy’s shoulder, happily nestling it into the crook of their neck. He could feel as Remy shifted their position, clearly going to lay Logan down on the bed. However, the bed alone would not be enough, Logan locking his arms behind Remy’s neck when they tried to let him go.

“Oh, come on, sugar, I can’t- I need both my hands- oh, alright, fine, if you’re gonna be like that, I’ll make it work.”

It took a couple minutes longer than it might have if Logan had allowed Remy to let go of him, but soon enough Logan was being deposited in a proper pile of blankets and pillows, all packed in together and arranged in the corner of the bed that lined up against the corner of the wall. He released Remy this time, comfortably sinking into the heap.

“I’m happy you’ve deemed this arrangement of your bed more acceptable than the one you yourself made, sweetheart.” Remy teased even as they worked on tucking the pile closer around him. “I’m going to grab lunch now, alright? Don’t go anywhere.”

It was an unnecessary request, given that Logan’s master plan of self-care wouldn’t benefit from him making Remy hunt him down, but the familiarity of it made Logan snort. The blanket-pillow lump had a one hundred percent success-rate with dissuading Logan from escape, no matter the circumstance, but Remy’s consistency in reminding Logan to stay put was endearing every time.

Remy returned within a few minutes, carrying a plate filled with ham and cheese cubes and some bunches of purple grapes. They placed it on part of the bed not overtaken by the plush pile before carefully climbing over it, cautious to not make a mess as they joined Logan. They slid into place behind him with practiced ease, shifting Logan to be more in their lap and against their chest before tucking the blankets back in around them both.

Logan leaned back against Remy as they settled, resting his head at a tilted angle so that he could keep his eyes on Remy. Noticing this, Remy smiled softly, pressing a kiss to Logan’s forehead.

“Alright babe who hasn’t eaten since breakfast, time to eat.” Remy said, tugging the plate closer to them before picking up one of the cubes and offering it to Logan. He let Remy pop it in his mouth, swallowing it while Remy grabbed another morsel of food. The motions were easy and repetitive, and soon enough nearly half the plate was gone.

Breaking the skin on a grape, Logan caught Remy’s wrist as they went to offer him a ham cube. Remy raised an eyebrow. “Darlin’?”

“You need to eat too.” Logan explained, nudging Remy’s hand towards their own face. “I know how you get when you’re busy.”

“Well now you’re not even being subtle.” Remy teased even as they accepted their redirected ham cube. Alternating between themself and Logan, Remy returned to their work of emptying the plate, quickly finishing off what remained of it.

When there was nothing left on the dish, Remy gracelessly pushed it off the bed, Logan well aware they’d pick it up later but still rolling his eyes at the laziness in the gesture.

“Shh, I can hear you thinking, love.” Remy trailed a few kisses down the side of Logan’s face, their arms wrapping snugly around his waist. “It’s my mess, I’ll clean it up later. Don’t worry about it.”

“You could take care of it now though.” Logan argued weakly, already once-more melting into Remy’s hold.

Remy chuckled, peppering more kisses across his chin. “Then I’d have to let go of you, my lovely Lo, and I don’t think that’s happening anytime soon.”

“Mmm, fair point.”

“Plus,” Remy went on as they began to slide into a more horizontal position, laying Logan down with them and briefly releasing his waist so as to move his glasses from his face to the bedside table, “it’s naptime. Someone needs their rest.”

“You.”

“Which one of us is taking care of the other again? You’re the tired one.”

Logan laughed quietly at Remy’s rebuttal, rolling over and nuzzling his face into Remy’s neck. He wasn’t sure when the lights in the room had turned off, but he was fairly certain it had been Remy’s doing. “Fine. I am very tired. So tired I have completely forgotten what to do now. Remind me how to sleep.”

“Dramatic-ass.” Remy’s tone was too soft to match their words. They pressed their cheek against Logan’s hair, their breath as they spoke close enough for Logan to feel its warmth. “You’ve just gotta close your eyes and stop thinking about anything that isn’t your wonderful partner and their wonderful fluffy pile of comfort and relaxation.”

“Sounds easy enough.” Logan dropped a kiss on Remy’s collarbone. “I could do this for days and days and-”

“Shhhh, starlight. Rest.” Remy slowly ran a hand up-and-down Logan’s back, successfully distracting him from his poorly-veiled (but loving) jab at Remy. “Bully me later.”

Logan didn’t respond verbally, opting instead to hum in contentment and snuggle up closer to Remy. There was no way they’d be able to slip out of bed without Logan noticing- not that they’d try, not now, but Logan appreciated the assurance of proximity. Despite not truly being tired, Remy’s warmth and Logan’s relief at knowing they would finally be resting themself were enough to make his eyelids heavy, the idea of sleeping peacefully with his partner too tempting to pass up.

So, yes, Logan did have some difficult duties to attend to, the caretaking of Remy the most complicated of them all. But drifting off happily in Remy’s arms, Logan remained firm in his stance that it was his favorite duty.

[inventors-fair]

Mechanical Runners-up! ~

Our runners-up this week are @col-seaker-of-the-memiest-legion, @horsecrash and @piccadilly-blue!

@col-seaker-of-the-memiest-legion — Sylvan Botanist and Collaborate

The glue that I like about this card is how it theoretically encourages a bunch of weird interplay. Maybe it’s the Zendikar Rising in me, but I enjoy the idea that you can be splashing for a color like red or blue and then have the wizardly deckbuilding side of things to change how you play. There are weird wizards around! And then, maybe those colors allow you to do weirder things, like a blue card that can double ETB abilities, or a red card that’ll benefit your team of new tokens, or just elves, which are elves. In terms of the greater scope of deckbuilding, this mechanic suggests a type-based multicolor theme in the greater scope of Magic.

Maybe there’s some hybridity that could be at play here, but the double-pips and the pretty standard token-making aren’t the most exciting to me. In terms of a half-decent draft rare, I can see this being picked up, but the fact is that you’re using quite a few resources here and it’s not landing in a specific way. What world is this supposed to be on, what kind of landing? I don’t feel that resonance at the moment. But between Dominaria, Ravnica and Alara, I’m sure you can find a home.

~

@horsecrash — Firewall Cracking and Encrypt

See, this slaps. That’s why I want to start with my main criticism, which is also a question. “Unencoding” to the best of my knowledge means it’s still in exile but no longer encrypted onto the creature, yes? That groks. It’s also really weird to see on the card, because I can imagine a new player encrypting, smacking, and then putting this card back into their graveyard “because that’s what unencoding means, right?” I think having a little comprehensive rules checking could help you out here.

All the same, criminy this is a powerful card and a powerful ability. What if you had, like, a virus type on this world, and you could encode creatures onto other creatures? And then, when they hit, they could infect the enemy with MIND POWERS or whatever. I think this is spectacular! I don’t think it belongs on Kamigawa necessarily even though it has the sci-fi vibe because, I mean, there’s already so many combat mechanics and whatnot there. All the same, you know what, even without the sci-fi vibe the attention you’re bringing to how resources can work at different parts of a turn is remarkable.

~

@piccadilly-blue — Scrap Salvager and Hide

So firstly, I’m tickled by your addition:

And it’s greatly appreciated~ I think there’s a lot of room for this mechanic to shine. I think it’s also, as it stands, fairly vague. For this card, it’s a fantastic card, and the flavor text tells me very little. I think that we have to think about what hiding means? In this case, I feel that this character is venturing and/or delving, and I get that much, but hiding also has the implication: from what? That’s what I don’t understand yet. The flavor text is...expository to say the least. I get the urge, because, well, I also see you’ve got a bigger set you’re working on. Admirable! Keep that up! But you gotta intrigue me, and right now, I feel like I’m being told the things I as an audience want to figure out.

From a pure mechanical standpoint this is really fun. I’d love to see cards that hide and then come out of hiding. Fantastic. Gimme a card that goes nuts with some ETB-to-hiding parallels. Not gonna teach anyone cool vocabulary, but it’s still neat. That part is solid and it looks like it can play well with whatever else is in this set, like ETBs, cast triggers, cards that care about how many spells you’ve cast in a turn, cards in exile, etc.

Working on general commentary soon! Lots to talk about, so sit back, relax, and be good to each other.

@abelzumi​

[hellsenthero]

New Life

Written by: hellsenthero

Bucky X FemReader

Just as Bucky gets home from his mission you find out you’re pregnant. With a flustered mind you quickly leave your fiancé at home to go out making Bucky draw to some wrong conclusions.

Square filled: Pregnant Reader

Warnings: None. (1.6k Words)

**********

A sudden gasp escaped your lips as you looked down at the little white stick in your hands, the two pink lines staring up at you reeling you back into reality. 

“Ohhh…” Is the only word in your vocabulary as you continue to stare with wide eyes, your mouth half open in shock before a knock on the bathroom door rattles you. 

“Y/N,” Bucky says from the other side of the door, “I’m back. You in there?” Shoving the test into the pocket of your hoody you clear your throat before answering your fiancé. 

“Yeah, I’ll be out in a minute.” You hastily began cleaning up the bathroom, making sure to hide the pregnancy test box and instructions at the very bottom of the trash, you hadn’t expected Bucky to be home from his mission just yet. You also hadn’t told him about your missed period or pregnancy concerts. After all, he’d told you before that he didn’t think he could even have kids with all the shit Hydra’s put his body through. 

Well guess what Bucky, turns out you can knock a girl up. You think to yourself. With all evidence hidden away, you take a calming breath as you look yourself over in the mirror. Your eyes are slightly glassy, dark bags beneath from the many early mornings you’ve spent with your head in the toilet, your face is flushed with equal parts shock and excitement and you can’t help but smile at yourself in the mirror. You’re going to have a baby. 

You’ve always liked the idea of having kids, so while this was all a shock to you, you weren’t disappointed at all, you were happy. The only question in your mind now was; would Bucky be happy about this? 

Stepping out of the bathroom you walk over to Bucky who’s sat patiently on the bed, waiting for the bathroom to free up so he can wash away all the dirt and sweat from his body. 

“You’re back early, everything go okay?” You ask him, wrapping your arms around his neck you press a quick kiss to his lips. 

“Yeah, we got all the intel we were after.” He answers as he slides his hands down your back and towards your waist. You pull back quickly before stepping out of Bucky’s arms. With the pregnancy test hidden in your pocket you couldn’t have him wrapping his arms around you there and finding out about your little secret. Not yet, anyways. You pretend to not see the concern in your fiancé’s eyes as you walk over to your wardrobe, pulling free your jacket you slip it on before facing Bucky. 

“I’m gonna head out to the store, there’s some things I need to pick up. You should wash up, there’s left over pasta in the fridge if you’re hungry.” Before you can get an answer back, you leave the room. 

Going to the store was an obvious lie to both you and Bucky, but in your frazzled state, you don’t particularly care. Instead you head out in the direction of your local coffee shop, pulling out your phone you call the one person who you think has the answers you’re looking for--Steve. 

“Hey Steve,” you begin after he picks up on the second ring, “do you have some free time right now by any chance?” 

“Hi Y/N, yeah I’m free. Is everything okay?” He asks. A small smile graces your lips at his words. With his friendship with Bucky and concern for others you couldn’t help but love and trust the Captain. 

“Yeah, everything’s fine. I was just hoping we could talk about some things. It's about Bucky so if he texts you please don’t let him know we’re meeting, he thinks I’m out at the store.”

“Uh, yeah, sure thing.” Steve answers, you can hear by his tone of voice he’s trying to figure out what’s going on with you and Bucky. 

“Great, then I’ll meet you at the Espresso Hut.” You tell him before hanging up. 

It’s only ten minutes later before Steve shows up wearing a baseball cap and shades in a pathetic attempt to stay anonymous to others. 

“Hey,” you greet him as he takes the seat opposite you, his hands wrapping around the warm latte you took the liberty of ordering for him. 

“Hey, you sure everything’s okay Y/N/N? We don’t usually meet like this.” Talking a sip of your decaf coffee, something you’ll unfortunately have to get used to over the next nine or so months, you nod your head. 

“Yeah, well I wanted to ask you…” you pause, thinking over your next words, “has Bucky ever talked to you about wanting kids?” Steve’s eyebrows raise in surprise, not expecting your question. “I know this is personal, but everytime I try talking to him about it he just changes topics. The most he’s said on the matter is that he doesn’t think he can have kids, but he’s never told me if he even wants them. I was hoping maybe, well, maybe he’s told you more on the matter?” You ask softly. You look away from Steve’s knowing gaze to down at your lap, your hands folded over top your stomach as you fiddle with your fingers nervously. 

“You’re pregnant?” Steve says it less as a question and more as a statement but still, you nod your head and answer. 

“Yeah, I just found out and I’m happy about it, really happy. I just don’t know if Bucky will be and it’s stressing me out, I don’t think I could handle him being disappointed at this.” You say truthfully as you look back up. Steve’s full lips spread into a wide smile before he’s leaning across the table and wrapping a gentle arm around you. 

“Congratulations Y/N, that’s great news.” 

“Thanks.” You say before pulling back from the hug. Situating himself in his seat once more Steve reaches a hand out to you, clansping it gently he gives a small squeez. 

“I don’t think you have anything to worry about, doll.” A light blush covers your cheeks as you smile. 

“Really?” You can’t help but double check. 

“Really.” Steve answers with a small nod and wide smile. 

“Well, in that case I really should be heading out to the store.” You tell him. 

By the time you enter your front door you’d been gone for a little over two hours. Stepping inside the fresh scent of vanilla catches your nose as heavy footsteps make their way towards you. 

“You’ve been gone for two hours.” Bucky says by way of greeting as he comes around the corner. 

“Yeah sorry about that, I had a few different places to go to.” You say as you shake off your jacket. Bucky nods his head but you see a flash of worry in his eyes as he looks away from you and down at the floor. “What’s wrong?” You ask him as you take a step towards him, your hand coming to rest gently against Bucky’s cheek. Your fiancé shrugs his shoulders as his head tilts up, his blue eyes meeting your own. 

“You tell me. I’ve been gone for a week on a mission and the second I get home you can’t wait to be rid of me, so much so that you literally ran out the door.” He says, gesturing to your front door behind you. “Are you upset about the missions?” He asks. 

“Oh bub, no,” you say softy, shaking your head at him, “I just, I found out some news just before you got home and then I had to go out to get some...stuff, for it.” Bucky’s dark brows furrowed in confusion, his eyes looking you over. 

“Are you okay?” He asks, his voice thick with concern. You nod your head as you gently push him back from you before you grab his hand and walk him into your living room. 

“I’m fine. But I have something for you.” Sitting Bucky on the couch you reach into the shopping bag you carried with you into the house. Pulling out a white box that you got the cashier to wrap up at the store you set it gently onto Bucky’s lap. “Open it up.” You tell him. 

With a look of curiosity Bucky gently undoes the yellow ribbon on the box before opening it up. With both hands he pulls out a small grey onesie with Daddy’s sidekick written on the front in bold black letters. Bucky’s blue eyes widen in shock, his mouth dropping open as he looks between you and the onesie and back again. 

“Really?” He gasps. With tears threatening to slip down your cheeks you nod your head, a smile gracing your lips. 

“Are you-” Before you can finish your question, Bucky’s already standing before you and wrapping you tightly in his arms, his face coming to rest in the crook of your neck where you can feel his hot tears against your skin. 

“We’re having a baby.” He whispers. 

“We’re having a baby.” You repeat with joy. Bucky pulls away from your neck, his eyes meeting yours. 

“You’ve made me the happiest man in this whole damn galaxy, you know that Y/N/N.” Before you can answer Bucky is already kneeling on the floor, resting his forehead against your stomach and his hands on your waist he whispers softly, “Hi baby, it’s your pop. You have no idea how many nights I’ve dreamt about you. I love you so much already.” 

As a laugh escapes you at his words you can’t help but think to yourself; this new chapter is going to be something special.

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

I hope you enjoyed the read, don’t forget to check out Bucky Bingo. 

[changqwi]

what ,   you’re  gonna  shoot  me ?  ❜ do it akimi she probably deserves it ajdjehdhd

            a soft sigh ekes from akimi's lips  ,  “  ah  ,  loni  ,  loni  ,  loni . . .  ”  they say  ,  gently shaking their head  .  eyes focused on loni  ,  “  you really should say such provocative words  ,  ”  the tiger continues  ,  “  it just makes things more tempting  ,  ”  akimi continues  ,  “  you say it as if i WOULDN’T shoot you  ,  ”  they hum  .             their hand had been caressing the cool firearm  ,  still laid on the table  ,  their focus momentarily distracted by the weapon lain on the surface  .  akimi had always been more of a hand to hand kind of person  ,  they prefer the warmth of someone’s skin against their own to something so heartless and distant  .  but  ,  akimi thinks it’s more heartless to have loni suffer a slow death via their hands . . . not that loni would go down easy  .  though perhaps that was the case  .  loni is a FORMIDABLE foe  ,  one that akimi is sure would gain the upper hand before they could even pull the trigger  .             fingers wrapping around the gun and lifting it from the surface  ,  a frown crosses their face as they test the weight of the firearm in their palm  .  “  light . . .  ”  they murmur  ,  as if to indicate that maybe the weapon was EMPTY  .  akimi takes a second to check the magazine and the chamber  ,  “  must be some sort of new model  ,  ”  they muse  .  “  you know i’m not up to date with these firearm things . . . i have a preference for blades more  ,  ”  akimi hums  ,  continuing to speak as if they’re not holding loni at gunpoint  .             “  hm . . . that aside  ,  ”  akimi dismisses the thought of weapons  ,  “  we really had a good run together  ,  didn’t we  ??  it was fun  .  i quite enjoyed the adventures  ,  ”  they reminisce the old times  ,  “  and being cursed out in a language i didn’t quite understand  ,  i learned new vocabulary all the time  ,  ”  akim grins  .  “  truly  ,  a pleasure  ,  ”  they nod solemnly  .             “  sadly . . . it’s come to an end  .  we got to part ways  ,  but unfortunately for one of us . . .  ”  akimi raises the gun they held in hand  ,  barrel obscuring their vision of loni’s visage  .  “  only i’m getting out of here  ,  ”  akimi says  ,  finger squeezing the trigger slowly . . .              P O P  !!  a foam-tipped bullet shoots out to hit loni in the forehead . . . P O P  !!  then another . . .              “  gotta double tap to finish the job  ,  ”  akimi nods with a somber expression  ,  before setting down the nerf gun on the counter before reaching for the last dessert on the plate  .  “  good bye  ,  old friend . . .  ”  akimi bows their head as if to mourn before finishing off the sweet treat in their hand  .             “  think i’m gonna get the suction cup bullets next time  ,  ”  akimi muses  ,  licking their fingers clean of sugar  .

[honeypwark]

[ You’re Hot ]

  ↳ Showcase: Star in US

       ↳ Kiryoung gets checked out by her members. She nearly drowns. She almost gets kidnapped.

m.list

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“Alright, let’s go!” Kai says excitedly once he’s rid himself of his tee shirt.

Soobin catches him around the waist and stops him from running straight into the ocean.

“Sunscreen first,” the leader says, pushing a bottle of spray-on sunscreen in his hands.

Kiryoung sets up one of the two large umbrellas they brought with them to the beach while Taehyun finishes up with the other. She double checks that it won’t fall over before pulling her shirt off. She quickly takes off her shorts as well, grabbing another bottle of sunscreen and walking a few steps away to apply it.

Kiryoung catches Taehyun’s attention as she goes to spray herself with sunscreen.

“Why is Kiryoung like... hot?” he says.

Confused, the other boys look at Kiryoung and have the same realization. She wears a floral patterned two piece swimsuit, the bottoms high waisted and the top styled with ruffles. Her stomach is toned as well as her legs. Her hair falls prettily around her shoulders when she lets it back down after putting sunscreen on her neck.

She walks back over to them and looks at them confusedly, “What?”

“Kiko, you’re hot,” Kai says bluntly.

Kiryoung flushes almost immediately, “Um... thank you?”

“Kai, shut up, you’re literally a child,” Soobin says.

“He’s not wrong,” Yeonjun adds.

“Don’t encourage him!” Soobin scolds.

“Hyung, you were looking at her, too,” Taehyun says.

“Because I was confused why you all were watching her!” Soobin protests.

Yeonjun pats Soobin’s shoulder, “Whatever helps you sleep at night, buddy.”

Kiryoung laughs awkwardly, “Okay, let’s go swimming now haha woohoo yeah swimming.”

Lucky for her, the boys drop the subject of her being hot and race each other to the water. Kiryoung tries and fails to keep up, reaching the ocean after they’ve all splashed in. Kiryoung wades out to them, arms retracting up to her chest at the chilly temperature of the water.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“Okay, if you don’t play you lose, rock paper scissors!” Taehyun calls.

Just as she puts her hand up as a rock, a wave crashes into Kiryoung and sends her underwater. She kicks off the bottom and back up to the surface, hand still out as a rock.

“Wow, that sucks, you lost, Kiko,” Yeonjun says. “Looks like you have to go buy food.”

Seeing how much Kiryoung is struggling, Soobin grabs her arm and lets her use him as support. She wipes her eyes and sees all five boys holding out paper.

Does she doubt that they all actually put out paper before she almost drowned? Very much so, yes. Does she mind getting a break from attempting to stay afloat while her five giant friends can stand on the sea floor? Very much she does not.

“Fine.”

Kiryoung gets a mouthful of saltwater and spits it out.

Coughing, she says, “I’m gonna go do that.”

Kiryoung starts doggie paddling toward the shore, eventually making it onto dry land. After drying herself off briefly, she grabs her wallet and walks down the beach toward the snack shack. She orders six slices of pizza and six sodas, balancing them all in her arms carefully as she walks back to her group’s spot.

The boys are already waiting for her on their respective towels. They cheer obnoxiously as she gets closer to them. After eating the boys head back out but Kiryoung stays on the beach, tired from trying not to die via drowning.

She situates her towel under an umbrella so she can lay down in the shade. She lays there comfortably for about twenty minutes, just enjoying the warm day.

“You look bored.”

Kiryoung opens her eyes as someone speaks to her in English. She sees that a man has approached her, hair swept back and face cleanly shaven. He’s very tall, Kiryoung can tell even as he crouches down beside her.

“No, just enjoying the day,” she says and sits up.

“I could help you enjoy it a little better,” he says.

“How?”

Kiryoung doesn’t understand why this man has approached her. Does he want to sell her something?

“Well, there’s this motel just up the road that we can get a room at. Just the two of us.”

Kiryoung finally understands what this man means, having been confused just moments before due to not being a native English speaker and not being used to men approaching her out of nowhere.

“Oh, no, thank you,” she says quickly.

“Come on, little thing. You got anything better to do?”

When he grabs her arm, Kiryoung can feel her fight or flight response kick in. Apparently she’s unable to do either.

“Please don’t touch me,” she asks politely.

“Don’t be a bitch, I’m offering you a good time. Come on.”

“No no no no no no.”

She feels as if all the English vocabulary she’s every learned has been stripped from her mind, leaving her helpless to talk her way out.

The man roughly pulls her to her feet and she realizes how bad of a situation she’s in. This man is much stronger than her and significantly taller; she has no chance of fighting her way out either.

“Please let go of me,” she pleads, trying to drag her feet in the sand without falling as the man pulls her.

“HEY!”

Kiryoung and the man look behind them to see all five of Kiryoung’s members running toward them. Soobin grabs the man’s arm and makes him let go of Kiryoung. Beomgyu tugs Kiryoung away from the man, taken aback when she immediately hides in his chest. Fear and adrenaline still course through her and she doesn’t much care how pathetic she must look.

“What’s your problem?” the man growls at Soobin

Soobin doesn’t speak English, but he still strings together, “You don’t touch my friend.”

“She’s just a slut anyway, hanging around a bunch of dudes.”

Yeonjun steps up beside Soobin, “Hey, why don’t you back off?”

The man looks Yeonjun up and down, “You gonna make me?”

“There’s five of us and one of you, how do you think this is gonna end?”

Yeonjun and Soobin continue to stare the man down. Taehyun and Kai are just slightly behind the two older boys, the four making a wall between the man and Kiryoung, who is still being held by Beomgyu.

After what feels like an eternity, the man scoffs, “Tourists.”

He turns and walks away in a huff.

Beomgyu looks down at Kiryoung without removing his arms from around her.

“Are you okay?” he asks her softly.

“Yes,” she whispers.

It’s obvious she’s lying due to the way she’s visibly trembling. Beomgyu keeps an arm around Kiryoung as they make their way back to their belongings. The sun has began to set now, oranges and pinks beginning to dye the sea as the glowing orb in the sky sinks closer and closer to the horizon.

Kiryoung sits on her towel gently, finding her shirt and pulling it on over her swimsuit. She takes a drink of water and sighs, letting her terror from before melt away.

“Better?” Soobin asks.

She nods.

“Do you believe us when we say you’re hot now?” Yeonjun asks.

Taehyun throws sand at him but Kiryoung laughs. The boys’ worry lifts as they hear that.

“You guys can go back out if you want,” Kiryoung she’s.

“I’ll stay here.”

“Someone should stay with you.”

“I’ll keep you company.”

“We’re not going to leave you alone again.”

Taehyun, Beomgyu, Yeonjun, and Kai look at one another then away awkwardly. Their care for their female member, normally hidden behind teasing and playful bullying, rears its head as they all offer to stay with her simultaneously.

Kiryoung can’t help but smile at that.

“I’ll stay, you all can go,” Soobin says.

The other four boys start to get to their feet slowly, reapplying sunscreen before they go.

“I told you that you’re hot, I just didn’t think someone would try to kidnap you because of it,” Kai says as they start toward the water.

Kiryoung laughs with them and the four boys run off to meet the waves. Soobin’s forced laughter doesn’t fade as quickly as Kiryoung’s real laughs. He turns to look at her.

“Yeah, you’re not going anywhere by yourself for the rest of the tour.”