#i’m never doing a 10 am lecture AGAIN

[goldfades]

guys i’m so tired i can’t even get outta bed

[jk97]

Unprofessional Attraction | ONE

♡ pairing - yunho x afab!reader ♡ word count - 13K ♡ series synopsis - There's no such thing as a coincidence, right? CollegeSenior!Reader (22) and linguistics teacher Yunho Jeong (27) indulge in an entanglement of inappropriate gravitation. It's risky and it's wrong, but listening to one's better judgment never leads to anything as intoxicating. When someone threatens this secret relationship with blackmail to expose the truth, things take a turn for the worse. Graduation can't seem to come fast enough. ♡ warnings for this chapter - fluff and explicit content (mdni), slight age gap, teacher/student relationship, other members are featured, pining, some obsessive behavior and manipulation (mainly from reader), drinking alcohol, inebriated driving (big no no frens!) perverted!yunho, bigdick!yunho, sprinkles of praise, fingering, cunnilingus, unprotected sex (mention of bc pill tho), porn with plot  ♡ A/N - part one is kinda tame, the next two parts will have more explicit scenes. I hope you enjoy, and please look forward to the rest! I haven't posted a fic on tumblr in many years so pls be kind ♡

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Yeosang is too attentive, especially when it comes to his best friend.

That’s why he knows you well enough to call you out when he whispers, “You’re staring again.”

“I’m staring at the whiteboard, pretty sure that’s what you’re supposed to do in class,” you argue, not bothering to even glance at him. It’s quite obvious that your eyes are too busy soaking in things that don’t have to do with phonology.

Your linguistics teacher, Yunho Jeong, is dressed particularly charmingly today. Something about the tight-fitting white polo shirt and chocolate brown slacks he has on this class is too distracting. It doesn’t help that his hair is a little more messy than usual, you wonder if he was running late this morning. Linguistics has nothing to do with your major, however, for your final semester in college, you simply needed a filler class for your last few credits. Yeosang suggested joining him in this class so you could both support each other, but he never factored in the fact that you’d be too distracted by the teacher to do anything of use for him. There weren’t many younger teachers such as Yunho at your university; in fact, you were pretty sure this was only his second semester teaching in general. He was generally a mild-mannered and easygoing teacher, but he was also able to command a room when necessary.

A minute later, Yunho offers everyone a 10-minute break since the last section of his lecture lasted a little longer than he anticipated, and the class immediately breaks out into chatter.

“He’s single, you know,” Yeosang turns towards you and props up his head on his palm, “Or so I’ve heard.”

“Don’t tell me things like that, you’ll make me delusional.”

He doesn’t miss the goofy smile tugging at your lips as you stretch your tired limbs from too much sitting. The lectures for this class were two hours long, but they were only twice a week on Wednesdays and Fridays, so you couldn’t complain too much.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“That I might have a chance with him,” you nudge him playfully.

“I’m not sure he’d want to date someone barely passing his own class,” Yeosang quips quickly, subsequently squeezing his eyes shut when you flick his forehead in response.

“Watch your mouth, I am not ‘barely passing’!” You return your eyes to the subject of your conversation, slowly taking in his form, “For the record, I could definitely pull him if I tried to. You think he likes younger women?”

“That is a terrible idea,” your best friend immediately shakes his head. “Absolutely not.”

“Surely I would be guaranteed to pass then though, no?” you offer instead, half-joking.

“You haven’t gotten laid in the last month and this is the first person that comes to your mind to fix that?” Yeosang scoffs incredulously.

“I wouldn’t just be in it for the sex,” you clarify. Your keen eyes watch his every move, from the way that his large hands flex as he thumbs at his phone to the way he purses his lips in curiosity at whatever he’s looking up. Like a lion stalking a gazelle before pouncing. “He’s quite literally perfect. Tall, smart, handsome, financially stable… the whole package. I deserve a man like that, right Yeo?”

You meet Yeosang’s eyes curiously, and he reminds you, “I think you’re forgetting he’s our teacher .”

“We graduate soon,” you whine, “Act now, worry later. I could graduate with a boyfriend already lined up the minute I get handed my degree.”

“You’re playing with fire, ____,” he holds his hands up in surrender. As your best friend, he knows you’re not joking, despite how much you might play it off later. He knows that once you set your mind on something, you generally don’t stop until it’s achieved, “Let’s see you try, though. It’ll be entertaining.”

When class resumes, you listen to the rest of his lecture with renewed cravings and an unusually optimistic disposition Yeosang has never seen you hold for this subject.

From that moment forward, every instance you “stumbled” across your teacher was planned. You figured out which parking lot he parked his car on during the day and bought a proper parking pass for that lot, now alternating between taking the shuttle and your car to the university. Your schedules crossed occasionally on your driving days, and you’d simply offer warm greetings or cheerful send-offs depending on the time of day. Yunho was a man of habit who visited the same campus restaurant nearly every day he worked during lunchtime in between his midday classes. It didn’t take much energy to stop by a couple of days a week and run into Yunho, giving you the ability to strike up a conversation or two when asking for recommendations on what you should order. These instances were simply to put you more on his radar, instead of just being a face in the sea of students in his class.

He seems to be good friends with two other teachers who are also around his age, teachers Seonghwa Park and San Choi. You wonder if getting in their good graces would somehow transfer to your teacher, by word of mouth. Luckily, you have a friend who has Mr. Park for a history seminar. On a Sunday night, you shoot a text to set the stage.

  [Y/N: Jongho!!!! It’s been so long since we’ve hung out :(( Can I swing by your class tomorrow and pick you up? Let’s get lunch!]

When 2 PM rolls around on Monday, you make the mistake of trusting the shuttle to come on time. It’s nearly 3 PM when you get to the necessary building, and you’re sure Jongho’s class ended close to half an hour ago. The plan to run across Mr. Park is thrown completely out of the window, you are only worried about Jongho being upset with you. You know he’d never, but still. Being late to something planned ahead of time always upsets you to no end. You curse at yourself over and over every stride down the hall, and it’s good that the hallways are virtually empty or else you’d probably look crazy. Eventually, you make it to your destination.

You’re just about to blindly call out an apology to Jongho but end up stopping dead in your tracks as soon as you enter the door; not only is Mr. Park in the room seated at his desk, but he’s also accompanied by Mr. Choi and Mr. Jeong. They’re huddled together, Yunho leaning against the whiteboard leisurely with a cup of coffee in his hand while intently listening to Seonghwa complain about the registrar’s office fucking up another one of his student’s enrollment for his class.

“There she is,” Jongho sighs this aloud as if his prayers have been answered.

He didn’t know if you were going to still make it and he’s dying of hunger from skipping breakfast. Immediately, all three men’s eyes turn towards the entrance. You pray to God that your face isn’t flushed with how hot you feel being the fixation of so many eyes. Or maybe it’s more so how handsome the men are that those eyes are coming from. This surely isn’t the time to have such a weakness for a strapping man in a button-up and crisp slacks.

“Hello, ____,” Yunho is the first of the three to speak. Subsequently, San amiably nods toward you in acknowledgment.

“Good afternoon all,” you greet everyone, bashfully adding, “I’m so sorry for interrupting.”

“Not interrupting at all,” Seonghwa waves his hands, dispelling those fears, “We were curious why Jongho was sticking back so late. He assured us a friend was coming to get him and we just chose not to leave him.”

Well, this is embarrassing. You nod hastily and glance toward Jongho, who is practically skipping down the lecture hall’s steps. Yunho wants to crack a joke about seeing you everywhere, about how you both must be magnets or something else silly, but he decides to keep that to himself. He doesn’t want it to seem like he’s keeping track of course, even if he is.

Instead, he affirms to the other men, “This is a student of mine.”

Admittedly, your ears had tuned every other word out except “mine”, and you nodded a little too enthusiastically. You haven’t been this discomposed in a long time, too bashful to look any of them in the eyes, and you pray it’s not showing too much elsewhere. Jongho’s friendly hand landing on your shoulder grounds you.

“You ready?”

“Absolutely,” you puff out.

“Don’t cause too much trouble for her, Jongho,” Seonghwa pokes a bit of fun at one of his top students, who replies by waving him away and scoffing. They seem to be relaxed with each other— this is something you desire to achieve with Yunho soon. You snatch up your friend’s hand and finally move to leave for lunch, if it could even be considered that now with how late it is.

“See you Wednesday, Mr. Jeong,” you look back and shoot him a wave, accompanied by a charming smile. He nods back, offering you his own as well.

Unbeknownst to you, San’s eyes follow you out the door with Jongho, especially surveying the plush of your thighs rubbing together as you walk. Such as yourself, skirts are surely a weakness of his.

“She’s a senior, right?” he murmurs, half-jokingly.

“Stop it,” Yunho promptly elbows San in the arm, earning a stifled laugh from Seonghwa.

Yunho has heard stories about San’s slight affinity with the pretty college women when he goes out to bars on the weekends. Nobody from his own classes, of course. Needless to say, Yunho would not let him even think about you that way. No way in hell.

“I was just asking, Jesus.”

Seonghwa stretches his limbs from his chair, “It’s never ‘just asking’ with you.”

“You buy a table of women drinks one time and your friends never let you hear the end of it,” he groans with a roll of his eyes, “God you guys are the worst.”

“Yeah, sure, that’s what it is,” Seonghwa concedes sarcastically.

“Just don’t make any unannounced visits to my classroom anytime soon, you buffoon,” Yunho chastises him while pressing his cup to his lips, “And I’m serious.”

“You got that,” San yields, “Wouldn’t wanna be a cock-block.”

Yunho nearly spits his coffee, “I beg your pardon?”

San nearly doubles over in laughter and, to Yunho’s surprise, Seonghwa has joined in. He doesn’t particularly enjoy the look they’re sharing and it makes the back of his neck burn with heat. Yunho doesn’t know why he’s so embarrassed but he steers the conversation away from discussing you any further. He ignores the feeling of indignation and possessiveness pooling in the pit of his stomach.

It doesn’t take long for you to decide you’ve done what needed to be done outside of the classroom; the cherry on top now was simply to get him alone more privately.

You didn’t have to try very hard for this to happen; your work on your paper outline was already sub-par at best. You did fairly well on the quizzes and packets he passed out once a week, but that final paper preparation was surely going to be a challenge. When you find enough courage in yourself to email him about seeing him during his office hours for extra academic help on formatting your paper and choosing a more concise topic, he replies quickly and enthusiastically. According to your syllabus, the topic should relate to what you’re studying for your degree, but the real meat and potatoes of the paper should incorporate an aspect of linguistics in relation to your career path. Yunho understands how something like this can be difficult to tackle, so he assures you not to worry and that you both will work on perfecting it in no time.

“Mr. Jeong, do you mind if I text you instead? It’s more convenient for me than to email,” you end up asking him at the end of class on a Friday.

Yunho doesn’t mind this and he says so; he's put his phone number on the syllabus for situations like this. Moreover, he doesn’t think anything of it when he receives a text from you the morning of your first session telling him good morning and saying that you’re excited to finally get some guidance. You follow up by asking how he likes his coffee, and if he prefers muffins or donuts. Even after this indicator, he’s still surprised that you show up at his office right on time at 10 AM on Monday with two fresh cups of coffee and a couple of things from the campus bakery.

His office is fairly small, but not enough to feel uncomfortable. He’s decorated it to his liking though to make it feel a little more homely on the days he has to stay late for one reason or another. He watches you marvel at his space before you set down everything in your hands and relieve yourself of your backpack.

“Good morning!”

“Good morning ____, welcome in,” Yunho smiles. “You’re very punctual.”

“Of course, I meant what I said about being excited,” you tell him honestly, settling into the seat in front of his desk, “The right one is yours, by the way.”

Yunho timidly thanks you before sliding it closer to himself. He’s never had a student do something for him like this, then again he hasn’t been teaching that long to begin with. Regardless, he appreciates it and the gesture goes straight to his heart. He takes a sip to emphasize this.

“I’m all ready when you are,” you proclaim, clasping your hands together.

With that, he begins to look through his folders for your class number and finds the topic idea and outlines you’ve submitted previously. He doesn’t even have to look for your name specifically, you always tend to write his name and your class section in a particular way on the top of your work that is very appealing and oddly unique.

“You have really pretty handwriting,” Yunho murmurs out absentmindedly when he finds it. When he lifts his head to see your intrigued eyes gazing back at him, he clears his throat and adds, “Mine looks like chicken scratch so I’m always fascinated by others.”

“As long as it’s legible, that’s all that matters,” you hum with a smile, “And I can read yours just fine, so you’re fine.”

Yunho’s not sure why that mild compliment, something that should probably be insignificant, steals his words from him for a moment. Instead, he offers a hum in place of thanks while quickly taking another sip of his coffee. He glances at his notes before speaking again.

“Okay, so when I reviewed your work, it seems like you generally have a solid topic,” he begins, “It’s definitely something that can be a bit more concise, but it’s fine. The problem is that you’re trying to incorporate too much into the paper as a whole.”

You nod in understanding, so he takes a sip of coffee and continues.

“That’s good and bad, for a couple of reasons. It’s good that you’re being ambitious and trying to give lots of information. This shows me that you’re planning on doing a lot of research and you’re going to be very knowledgeable about your topic,” Yunho cocks his head, “If you set yourself up like this, though, your paper will end up being over twenty pages easily. And we both don’t want that, right?”

He gives you a knowing look, and you can’t help the candid snort you let out at his frankness, “Definitely not, oh God. I’m so sorry.”

“Precisely. So, let’s work on cutting some of these sections out and conjoining some of these bullet points in others. Sound good?” He holds out his hand with a grin as if to make it a deal, and you grant him a firm shake.

After a considerable amount of time figuring out which parts of your paper to chop without losing the vision, Yunho feels his limbs tighten from sitting too long. He’s been in this chair since 9 AM, so he asks, “Can we take a quick break? I need to stretch a bit.”

“Of course!”

When he stands to full height and stretches his arms, your eyes inconspicuously survey the way the edge of the desk lines up right with his pelvis. Perfect height for extracurricular activities… You wonder if he’s the type of guy to be open to something like that, fucking his lover in his office. Surely this thing is sturdy enough to withstand it, you muse. The thought of him bending you over the desk just to prove how sturdy it is makes you rub your thighs together. You decide to chug the rest of your now-cold coffee to get your brain back on track. Yunho collapses back into his office chair gently and lets you know he’s ready to resume. The rest of the time is spent setting up a list of some things you could tweak when you go home on your own and prepare for him to view in a couple of days.

On Wednesday, for your second meeting, you both convene at his office directly after your class with him in the afternoon. You smell especially good today, a mix of jasmine, vanilla, and something else he can’t put his tongue on… but it’s got Yunho’s head a bit foggy. Still, the meeting is engaging and brimming with useful help just as the last. Leaning back in his chair, he takes a brief moment to review a printout of what you’ve implemented into your outline from your last meeting discussions. It’s definitely already an improvement, but there are still a few things that could be tweaked in terms of sectioning. He grabs his favorite pen and lays your papers out in front of you, leaning forward to mark things you should be mindful of. A circle here, a quick jotted note there—his soothing voice explains each eagerly, and you can tell just how much he loves this subject by his enthusiasm. You reply to all of his criticism and suggestions with just as much enthusiasm. Yunho finds himself leaning in a little closer than might be suitable for the circumstances, but his brain is still ensnared by your perfume. He doesn’t even realize what he’s doing, truthfully, but it doesn’t bother you a bit. In fact, you’re a little too enamored with watching his large hands grip his pen and flex while writing to notice he’s calling your name.

“____?” he calls for a second time, to which you finally meet his gaze while blinking bashfully. “You okay?”

“I’m sorry, I think I spaced out for a second,” you answer honestly. He is absolutely too close to you right now and the way you can see the details in his eyes is making your brain short-circuit. He finally sits back in his chair and chuckles warmly.

“We have been working for quite a while today, I’m sure it’s a lot of information. Maybe we should wrap up for the day and meet again next week? I’m a bit tied up on Friday,” he ponders. You can’t help the hint of disappointment that makes its way onto your face, and he notices. There’s this unusual feeling in his chest right now; why does he feel regret for his stupid schedule? He leans forward on his elbows and cocks his head, “You’re doing very well, you know that? We’ve made a lot of progress after only a couple of meetings. I’m very excited to see how this comes together at the end of the semester.”

“I’m very self-conscious about my writing, so I appreciate that, Mr. Jeong,” you confess with a sheepish smile.

“You have nothing to be stressed about, I love what I’ve seen so far,” he continues his praise, “And I’m very happy you’re in my class, ____.”

The smile he gives you after such a statement manifests dozens of butterflies in your stomach, and you can’t help but match it. These one-on-one sessions go on 2-3 days a week for about two more weeks, loosening him up to you. He successfully becomes much more casual and unfiltered in your presence before you decide to up the ante. The following Tuesday of the next week, you remain on campus fairly late after classes end for the day, seated on a bench near the parking lot you both share. It’s warm outside even with the sun gradually setting, and you spend the time mentally rehearsing exactly what you planned on saying when he arrives to leave for home. He should be here any minute now–

“_____?”

You spin around at the familiar voice calling out your name. It’s him, of course, coming from the staff meeting you found out was being held this evening. Finally , you think. He stops just short of where you’re perched on the bench.

“Oh, hello Mr. Jeong.”

“What are you doing out here so late?” He inquires quickly, and there’s a tinge of concern laced in his voice. However, he realizes that asking this might be out of the realm of things he should know, you’re a grown woman after all. So, he follows up with an excuse, “It’s getting pretty dark out.”

“It’s a bit embarrassing,” you mutter, glancing away from his gaze.

Yunho can’t deny, he’s a bit mesmerized by the way you look tonight. He’s never seen you with your make-up done up like this, or your hair styled so charmingly. When you glance back at him again with those long, fluttering lashes of yours, he feels the back of his neck turn hot.

“You can tell me anything, you already know,” he reminds you, “I won’t judge and I’m always available to listen.”

“Well… I have a reservation for dinner with someone at six… but it seems they stood me up,” you reveal while mindlessly fiddling with a frayed string on the skirt of your dress. Yunho glances down at his watch: it’s 5:48 PM. “They were supposed to pick me up a while ago. I was trying to hold out some hope, but… I’m just being stupid.”

Yunho furrows his brows; why would someone stand a girl like you up? You’re beautiful and exceptionally smart (despite any kind of trouble you may have had with your paper). You’re also one of the sweetest people he’s ever crossed paths with in life. Many of those paths having been crossed within the last month, of course. Still, he can’t fathom it.

“I’m so sorry to hear that, ____,” he tells you truthfully. Then, he thinks about how your car isn’t here, and how the shuttle won’t be around until 6:30 PM. He’s slightly apprehensive before offering, “Do you want a ride home?”

You give him a winsome smile that pierces into his heart with an invisible arrow, “You don’t have to do that. I appreciate the offer though.”

“No, really, I don’t mind at all,” he says with more confidence. The idea of him being your knight in shining armor, buried deep in the back of his head, is shouting at him. That’s when you decide it’s time to take your shot, for better or worse.

“Well, in that case, would you like to accompany me to the restaurant instead?” you inquire, glancing up at him curiously. “I already paid for the spot, so I wouldn’t want the reservation to go to waste.”

Normally, you’d follow up a statement like that with a: “But it’s okay if not.”  

Not tonight.

You didn’t want to give him an out to this proposal willingly. You can see the mild indecisiveness in his face anyway, all the way down to how Yunho’s hand tightens around the handle of his briefcase. You did get all dolled up for whoever you were supposed to be spending the evening with, and he’ll feel awfully bad letting you go back home to take it all off for no reason. It’s just a dinner, he tells himself.

“Sure,” Yunho finally says in an exhale, “Let me pull around my car.”

While he walks off into the parking lot towards his car, you bite down hard on your bottom lip to stop the dishonest smile that’s threatening to spread across your face. Was it all a bald-faced lie? Of course it was! But, sometimes it takes some white lies to get to what you want, and what you wanted was no longer that far out of reach if tonight was anything to go by.

When he finally pulls around to pick you up, you allow yourself to slip into the mode you usually go to on dates. It doesn’t hurt to pretend tonight, it’s like manifesting your reality. You thrum your fingers against your bare thighs, to no particular beat, while staring out of the car window at other passing cars during your brief trip on the highway.

“Is this a restaurant you’ve been to before? It looked really nice online,” Yunho eventually says into the silence, trying to make small talk. He had briefly skimmed the reviews while plugging the address in on his phone.

“I haven’t, actually,” you divulge, going further, “I’m a bit of a foodie, you know? I like to try new places occasionally.”

That conversation flows smoothly for the rest of the drive, and even smoother when you both are seated and eating dinner in a booth towards the back of the restaurant. It’s nice to see him in a more relaxed setting.

“Thank you for joining me tonight, Mr. Jeong.” You offer him some well-deserved gratitude as you wipe your mouth, signaling the end of your eating. “Makes things a lot less embarrassing tonight for sure.”

“No need to thank me, I enjoyed your company,” he smiles. He doesn’t even hesitate this time before adding, “That bastard doesn’t know what he’s missing out on.”

The bubbly laugh and adorable smile you grant him the experience of witnessing enraptures him, the tips of his ears burning at the thought of how he wants to be able to produce that from you again and again. Yunho hasn’t been on a date in a while, so he’s sure this feeling is just because he’s attention-deprived. Still, it’s something he notes mentally. And, even though some might consider it inappropriate, you and your teacher both began having dinner occasionally, just like that. Platonically, of course.

  “We can go over my questions for my paper topic here rather than in that cramped office of yours, you know?”  

Surprisingly when you proposed this, he showed little resistance to the idea. Yunho enjoyed getting out of the house for the evenings he usually spent alone with a few beers and a Netflix series. He enjoyed having a pretty girl keep him company even more. He reminds himself every time he picks you up, though, that this is simply work and nothing more. Just some overtime—helping a student who enjoyed his class get better at the material. It’s not meant to be enjoyable.

But after the first few times of these “informational paper related” meetings, conversations involving anything to do with linguistics slowly molded into Yunho placing a nimble finger to his lips to say a silent shhh, followed by, “Let’s not talk about schoolwork tonight, okay?”

That moment, when you noticed that slight shift in Yunho’s energy, the atmosphere from there turned more informal. You become more conscious of those important invisible lines between student and teacher— or even more teacher and friend— that have begun to blur significantly. “Good evening Mr. Jeong,” became, “Le’me taste your food, Yunho?”

To which he never declines, naturally.

Tonight, on the 5th dinner, the climate between you both plows further into the downward spiral of informality, warm and fairly flirtatious. At least, that’s what you surmise by the way he keeps openly teasing you this evening. It’s all innocuous banter, but that doesn’t quell the adoration you hold for him in the pit of your stomach. It’s enough to make your thighs clench together underneath the table. You finally decide to shamelessly reciprocate, teasing him about the way his hair is going every which way tonight. You emphasize how the style is still very handsome despite him looking like he’s been through hell and back.

“I was having a pretty bad day today until I remembered where I was going tonight actually,” Yunho divulges, pushing the wrinkly sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows. He truly has been through hell and back today, between snooty older teachers and idiot freshmen both treating him like he’s a student just because of his age, “These kinds of nights with you always make my day, so it’s been saved.”

A playful smile tugs at your lips as you cock your head, “Is it the food or is it the company?”

He leans forward on his forearms with a prepossessing smile, one that makes your heart thump loudly in your ears.

“Both, of course,” he teases again, “I suppose the food is just a bonus, though.”

He takes notice of the way your cheeks are dusted in crimson as you shyly avert your eyes and locks that innocent image into a deep chamber of his mind along with all the others. He practically has a photo album saved mentally. It’s not too long until the food comes, and things become all about eating. A fair amount of time into your dinner, you decide to add a new element to your dynamic.

“Do you mind if I drink a little tonight?” you inquire quietly while your eyes skim the wine menu briefly. Not like you were going to care about his answer, but it was simply fun to ask. He chuckles.

“You’re an adult,” he points out instead. You smile to yourself before meeting his eyes from behind the menu. There’s something especially curious tonight behind those dark irises of his. The unfamiliar stare he gives you from behind his bangs is accompanied by a subtle smirk that makes your stomach tie into tight knots.

You turn away your eyes until you’re able to catch the attention of your waiter once more. In the process of requesting a glass of some Cabernet Sauvignon, you hesitate before saying the name of which brand because of the price tag for one glass, but most risks are pricey and tonight you felt like splurging for the reward in return: releasing your inhibitions. The waiter turns towards Yunho to confirm if he’d like to add anything before he leaves.

“Bring a bottle of that instead, please. We’ll share,” he requests alternatively. It takes all of your strength not to look at him like he’s crazy as the waiter nods and heads off to fetch it.

“It’s on me tonight,” Yunho beats you to the punch on declaring anything about his decisions.

“You don’t even know the price of it.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he quips back with a chuckle, “Are you suggesting I can’t afford it?”

“Yunho…”

“Don’t even give me that, ____.”

The way he blithely says your first name with a different warmth now always causes your heart to swell in your chest. All formality is truly gone between you two. You both share matching smiles in place of any further words about the matter.

When the waiter returns briefly with a freshly opened bottle of wine and two glasses, you both offer him words of gratitude before he slips away once more. Yunho wastes no time pouring you both a proper amount, sighing contently when finished. You lift your glass towards him and grin once more, “Cheers?”

“Cheers.”

Yunho surely got his money’s worth, because the bottle is gone between you both quickly, signaling the end of your dinner as well. You don’t feel the few glasses fully set in until Yunho is helping you out of the booth, your legs feeling akin to a newborn baby deer as you bashfully stumble into his arms. You suppose your food wasn’t as carb-heavy as usual tonight. You’re not drunk, but surely you’re not sober either. He doesn’t mind holding you steady on the way out of the restaurant, a guiding hand timidly pressed to the small of your back.

As much as you despise the thought of driving under the influence, it’s pouring an insane amount of rain upon exit of the restaurant and Yunho insists he’s fine enough to drive. The dilemma that arises is how your place is further than he has confidence in making it to in this storm while inebriated. You know just as well as he does that there’s no way he’s driving you home tonight.

“I have a spare bedroom,” he begins, and glances over at you, hoping you understand what he means because he’s not sober enough to come up with the words to ask you otherwise. The pouring water is making it hard for him to keep his eyes open but he doesn’t miss the feigning look of indecision in your eyes. He tries to ignore the way the rain has soaked through your dress enough to make it plaster your body. It accentuates every contour of your figure, from the rounds of your breasts down to your supple thighs. When the boom of thunder somewhere far off fills the silence after his proposal faster than you do, he panics slightly.

“I can get you an Uber if—”

“You already paid for an expensive bottle tonight, don’t waste more money on an Uber,” you grasp onto his arm fondly, sopping breasts squished into his bicep. Your lips curl into a soft smile at his attempt at chivalry though, “I’ll be fine. Let’s hurry though, okay? I’m cold.”

That statement is followed by a sharp shiver running down your back, and that’s enough for him to drag you along with him to his car with quick, but careful, steps.

Surprisingly, Yunho lives in a townhouse. You’re very thankful not to have to walk up the stairs of a condo. He thanks God there’s an empty parking space in front of his house, he hates when the tiny lot fills up before he gets home. You both prepare yourselves before rushing out of the car and to his front door.

Your hazy eyes train themselves on his pretty, slender fingers fiddling with the doorknob before he finally gets it open. Those same fingers grab your hand and pull you through his front door with him mindlessly. Another chill immediately runs down your spine at the cool AC blasting through his home, which he immediately runs off to turn down.

“Both bedrooms have bathrooms with showers,” Yunho sputters while quickly heading off to find you a towel and some spare clothes for which you could sleep in.

While you’re still peeling your drenched shoes and socks off, he settles on a fresh t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants since it’s still a bit chilly in the house. You try not to track too much water through his home while you journey through his living room and meet him halfway.

“I’ll shower in the guest room,” you tell him, taking the items.

He runs an anxious hand through the wet hair sticking to his forehead, “I can also dry your clothes if you leave them on the bed.”

“Fuck, that’s great,” you sigh with a smile, stepping past him but cocking your head back to add, “Wait about five minutes before you come grab them, I should be in the shower by then.”

Just as you requested, Yunho comes into the room a little over five minutes later when he hears the shower running. His eyes confirm that the bathroom door is closed for your privacy before grabbing your wet clothes and retreating to his laundry room down the hall. He chucks them all in his dryer and runs it on medium heat and maximum dryness. While that’s running, he busies himself with running to his bedroom and speedrunning his shower to ensure he’s out before you. He’s a man on a mission, pulling on clothes and towel-drying his hair before rushing to the laundry room to get your clothes.

Yunho pulls your garments from the dryer one by one, making sure there’s nothing left wet. He stops when he pulls something out that catches his eyes. Your underwear. He’s quite enticed by them, even if they were pastel pink with turtles... Hot, he thinks sarcastically. Yunho eyes the crotch curiously and remembers that technically he didn’t wash your clothes at all. It’s been a while since he’s had a girl over his home and that, on top of the thought of even holding your underwear, is taking a small toll on him. He gives in and puts them to his nose, breathing in deeply.

Oh God … Even after they've been soaked in rain, your scent is still heavy on the fabric. He groans, why did you have to smell so fucking good? He remembers that you are quite literally right down the hall while he's here sniffing your underwear like a pervert. It’s your fault, right? Yeah, it’s your fault for trusting him with such a sensitive piece of clothing by himself. It’s your fault for smelling so good and looking so pretty and—

He gives up on rationalizing it and presses the clothing fully onto his face again, inhaling heavily and feeling himself grow harder and harder by the second. His arousal grows worse and worse, precum dampening his underwear with every deep inhale and fluttering thought of what you probably taste like… He finds his hand mindlessly palming himself, and luckily his groans are muffled by the underwear bunched up in his face. That’s when he hears the water shut off.

Yunho whispers a handful of obscenities as he hurries to the room to place your dried clothes on the bed while you’re still in the bathroom, closing the door behind him softly. He’s long gone by the time you step out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel.

Normally, you’d stay in the shower until your fingertips are pruney, but you suppose being a good guest includes not using up all of his hot water. There were more pressing things to attend to anyway, like the tall attractive man patiently awaiting your presence outside of this room. So, when you tug on your now dry panties and his previously provided clothing, you quickly make your way out of the room and to the living room. You’re not exactly sure what you expected upon seeing him, but he’s indeed still exceptionally handsome freshly out of the shower. Those same curious eyes gaze at you behind his shaggy bangs, still in the process of drying. Clad in a simple white t-shirt and a pair of athletic shorts, his biceps and strong thighs are fully on display as he lounges on the couch. The way his long legs are man-spread now that he’s comfortable in his own abode makes you swallow a little harder than usual. Still, you meander over and sit on the other side of the couch, not too far away.

“Your place is very nice,” you state absentmindedly, glancing around at the walls of his home. “Very fit for a bachelor.”

Without you noticing, Yunho’s eyes skillfully study the way you’re so casually in his clothing. You’re too busy glancing around at unnecessary things anyway; he wonders if you’re rambling about his decor because you’re nervous. He’s nervous too, but not for the right reasons. Regardless, seeing you in his clothing is taking an additional toll on his mental health. How did you both end up in this situation together… This is wrong, he thinks. He shakes his head to try and clear those corrupted thoughts from his mind. It isn’t until you realize he hasn’t replied to anything in a couple of minutes of you jabbering that you finally peer over at him. His eyes are trained on the short distance between the both of you, mindlessly chewing on the nail of his thumb.

“You okay?” you ask, finally catching his attention.

He nods hastily, “Definitely. Sorry, it’s been a long day. Mind is on empty.”

“You’re fine, no worries.”

It’s uncomfortably quiet for a moment as you both exchange stares. You’re seconds away from breaking the silence before Yunho steals the chance.

“I’m sure you’re tired, so we can head to bed,” he suddenly exhales, hands clasping his thighs, “The guest room is all yours for as long as you need it.”

You take the chance and lean forward toward him on your palms at this statement, slightly sinking into the couch while you gaze at him, “Is that what you really want, Yunho?”

There’s now an even longer moment of silence where you both stare each other in the eyes again and the room is unbearably quiet. Yunho finally breaks it after his Adam’s apple bobs uneasily.

“Of course,” he awkwardly chuckles with furrowed brows, “What do you mean, ____?”

Your heart deflates. For a second, you wonder if maybe you’ve been reading his body language incorrectly the entire night. There’s a flare of embarrassment that ignites on your cheeks as you immediately retract yourself.

“I suck at making jokes,” you match his chuckle nervously, “Don’t mind me.” He cocks his head at you curiously and you stand to your feet before he can catch the way your face is lighting on fire with every passing second. You avoid looking at him as you begin striding back to the guest room, “Goodnight Yunho, see you in the morning!”

Yunho is left alone to his own devices once he hears the sound of the door to the guest room closing down the hall. Sitting alone on a large bed in your teacher’s home feels surreal, and all too disappointing the same. You press your palms to your eyes to try and settle the embarrassment that keeps washing over you every time you think back to your impromptu attempt at making an advance toward him. God this fucking sucks…

After a few minutes of setting up some alarms on your phone for the next morning, you decide you need to go get some water and wash away tonight from your mind forever. Yunho Jeong doesn’t like you more than a friend, it’s time to accept your fate and that you failed at attracting him. To be fair, it all was a shot in the dark to begin with. You try not to be too hard on yourself and hope that he’s already in his room by now.

But, if that’s all truly the case, then why is Yunho standing in front of the guest room door when you open it? His arm is positioned as if he was about to knock. Yunho had been standing there for quite some minutes, debating his next actions in his head, overthinking as usual. Though, could it be considered overthinking if the consequences of his actions could lead to delinquency? Had you not opened the door to go get water, albeit unknowingly, he probably would’ve psyched himself out.

“Oh– Did you need something?” you mumble and look up inquisitively at him. His mouth lingers open for a few seconds before he learns how to speak again.

“Can we talk?”

“Of course.” You can’t help the hint of confusion gracing your face as you step aside and allow him inside the room, “Is everything okay?”

When you close the door and face him, he looks distraught. Everything was indeed not okay.

“Are you still drunk?” He asks first.

“I don’t really think I was ever drunk,” you tell him, “But no.”

“Neither am I.”

At first, it doesn’t click about why he’s confirming this. You also don’t notice the way he gradually takes tentative steps forward—or the way you’re equally taking steps back—until your back hits the bedroom door. He’s so close that you can smell the minty mouthwash still fresh on his breath unfurling over your face. Still, he looks hesitant about his actions.

“I’m sorry, I was just… nervous before,” he swallows. He watches your face shift from confusion to realization; he’s referring to his response when you shot your shot. You relax against the door.

“About?” Is all you can ask in a soft voice, left hand daringly reaching up and cupping his cheek.

“About drunken words,” he continues, his voice just above a whisper. You can see the stutter of his heart against his chest. “And my feelings.”

Your thumb brushes his bottom lip, “What are you feeling, Yunho?”

In a moment of fleeting courage, he gently grabs your right hand and leads it to settle below his groin, pressing it against him a bit for good measure.

“What does it feel like I’m feeling to you?”

Your cheeks heat up at the feeling of him in your palm; you didn’t expect him to be so forward about it out of nowhere. The overall anticipation of the situation is killing you, even though everything feels like it’s moving too slowly and too fast all at the same time. All of your effort was leading to this point and yet, somehow, you still don’t feel nearly as prepared as you thought you were to finally fuck him, to finally fuck your teacher. That doesn’t stop your cunt from clenching around nothing at all at his words alone, because this is definitely what you’ve wanted so badly for weeks.

You try to swallow even though your throat feels parched, mindlessly whispering, “Oh my God…”

Then, you give him an experimental squeeze which has his eyelids fluttering closed, and a deep grunt leaving his flared nostrils.

“Fuck …” he groans. It’s too natural, the way you subconsciously run your hand up and down the bulge, feeling it harden even further. Yunho is at his wit's end. “I need you to tell me exactly what you want ____,” he reminds you.

You get it, he’s covering his bases because of his relation to you outside of this bedroom. Consent is sexy regardless, so you grant that to him.

“I really, really want you to fuck me Yunho,” you purr as your hands creep up his chest until you can wrap your arms around his neck, “And I think you want the same, right?”

Yunho’s hands sneak under the t-shirt on you and he massages the flesh of your sides, fingertips ghosting up your skin until they reach your breasts. His thumbs brushing against your hard nipples involuntarily make you whimper his name, and this is all Yunho needs to hear to proceed without such caution. The moment he leans down and smashes his lips to yours, time stops.

It’s nasty, the way your tongues are dragging against each other, spreading trails of saliva everywhere.

It’s nasty, the way he can’t help but drag that same tongue down your neck, sullying your freshly washed skin with spit.

It’s even nastier, the way he moans out your name, shamelessly grinding his clothed boner into your crotch, searching for friction because he’s touch-starved.

“A-Ah—wait! Bed, please,” you let out a broken moan at the way he sucks and bites on your neck. Yunho grunts in agreement, spinning you around and forcefully guiding you back until you both reach the bed. You can’t help but giggle when you fall back on the mattress— he’s so hungry for it, for you. And you’re more than ready to give it to him.

“Can I take them off?” He still asks like a gentleman, though his fingers are impatiently already tugging at the bottom of your sweatpants. You nod with fervor.

The moment he tosses them away, the situation begins to feel a bit more real to you both. Maybe it’s because you’re sopping wet and semi-exposed, and he’s not, so you become bashful and self-conscious.

“Take yours off too?”

Yunho doesn’t hesitate to oblige you. He peels off his shirt and shoves his shorts away easily. There’s a brief second where he hesitates before also pulling his boxer briefs down and finally fully exposing himself to you in all his nude glory. Yunho hasn’t slept with a woman in a while, but he’s never had complaints about anything, and especially not his size. He can tell by how your eyes are drinking him in, that you won’t have any either.

“You’re so handsome, you know that?” you murmur, eyes hazy as they rake over him from his broad chest to his defined abs, then his defined hips to his heavy cock. There’s a cute hue of pink dusting his cheeks at the compliment.

Yunho doesn’t give you a chance to stare at him very much longer before he’s finally ridding you of your shirt, lips meeting yours again the moment it’s tossed. It’s not long before that naughty mouth of his indulges in your breasts, licking and sucking on your hardened nipples like they’re the only thing that will keep him grounded to earth. You’re a moaning mess underneath of him, hands carding through his tresses and lips struggling with telling him how much you love his mouth. He could suck on your beautiful breasts all day but there are more pressing matters at this time.

His eyes never leave yours as he kisses all the way down the expanse of your stomach to the waistband of your panties. Only then does he close his eyes to bury his face in your clothed cunt and take a deep breath, filling his lungs until they feel like they're about to burst. He’s so content that now he can do it knowing the real thing is right underneath. It gets him hard all the same as the laundry room. You watch him grind himself into the mattress for some relief just at the smell of you.

“I’ve never done something like this before,” he divulges, pressing heated kisses into the skin of your sensitive thighs.

“What, eating pussy?” you tease to ease his nerves. He stares pointedly at you from behind your mound.

“You know what I mean.”

Your hand reaches down to find a comforting purchase in his hair, “Neither have I, Yu.”

Yunho can feel himself falling apart faster and faster, and the nickname is not helping him keep it together at all. He hooks his fingers in your panties and gently tugs them down your legs, joining the rest of the discarded clothing on the floor. Your cheeks tingle with heat when his hands spread your legs wider, eyes seemingly mesmerized.

“Such a pretty pussy…” he whispers, marveling at the way your sticky lips tremble when you clench around nothing.

He solves that by pushing in two of those pretty fingers of his, all the way down to the last knuckles. The desperate moan that flies from your lips sends him into a depraved headspace. He immediately latches his mouth onto your throbbing clit and sets to work, thrusting into your squelching squeezing heat and sucking to his heart’s content. Yunho loves eating pussy, truly. There’s something truly cathartic to him about holding a woman’s legs down while she twitches and grinds against his face as he’s slurping up every bit of essence that seeps from her greedy hole. He even removes his fingers and opts for lapping at your heat like a starved man instead. Up and down, left and right… His tongue leaves no inch of your heat untouched. He loves the feeling of your slick coating his face when he pushes his tongue as deep as he can into your hole. He feels your hands yank him by his hair before he can even get to the fun part. He gazes up at you in confusion, mouth messy and eyes indubitably pussy-drunk.

“Please,” you beg, chest heaving, “I want you inside.”

Yunho licks his lips clean before crawling back up your body to fulfill your request. You’re right honestly, there’s only so much grinding he can do into the mattress to ease the ache of his hard cock. He leans over to grab a condom from the nightstand but you pull him back over, mumbling about how you’re on the pill and that it’s fine.

He’s so big, the way he’s engulfing your whole body with you caged between his arms like this. Gazing into your eyes, he drags the blunt tip of his cock back and forth through your dripping folds, occasionally pressing it hard against that clit that he’s taken such a liking to sucking on.

“Hey,” you mumble against his lips, catching the full attention of his blown-out irises. “I can tell you’re nervous. Just relax and lose control, for me. Okay?”

Yunho’s last rope of restraint snaps.

The moment you feel his tip finally breach your entrance, you squeeze your eyes shut and mewl at the feeling of his thick cock sliding into its rightful place. Yes, obviously he’s meant just for your cunt, because you fit like a glove when you're swallowing him in so badly the deeper he pushes. He doesn’t stop until he’s buried to the hilt, despite your squirming and twitching underneath him at the feeling of being so full.  

“I’m about to move,” he pants, adjusting to the feeling of your warm walls squeezing his cock, “Holy fuck.”

When you nod, he finally lets go of his inhibitions. He begins to roll his hips at a nice steady pace, large hands clasped to the backs of your thighs as he pushes them towards your torso. His mouth hangs open in ecstasy and his eyelids lower lazily at the way your walls suck in his cock so tightly and squeeze it like they’re begging to be filled to the brim. You reach up and latch onto his arms to ground yourself, head dizzy and overwhelmed at the feeling of him starting to snap his hips just a little faster now that you’re stretched out a bit more to accommodate him.

“Yunho, fuck, you’re so big,” you whimper, nails digging into his shoulders. Yunho grinds his pelvis into you at this remark, rubbing against your clit with his happy trail.

“And you’re taking me so well,” Yunho praises with a lopsided grin, “Feels good?”

“So fucking good.”

Yunho pushes your legs back even further as he leans in to capture your lips in a sloppy kiss. You’re so pretty with those glassy eyes and those flushed cheeks of yours, but there’s something about that that quivering bottom lip that makes him want to suck every sound from you himself. He finds himself bucking faster and faster, unable to maintain any kind of self-control.

He breaks away to catch his breath, eyes lazy as he groans, “Let me hear you. This is what you wanted, yeah?”

“Mhm, yes, yes,” you whine desperately, “I wanted it so bad. Wanted you so bad.”

You grant him a flurry of shameless bitten-off moans, egging him on further and further. Yunho buries his face into the crook of your neck, making your skin damp between his own warm gasps and grunting obscenities. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt this aroused before; yes, he’s so painfully hard at the fleeting thoughts of how inappropriate everything is. He’s your linguistics teacher—he’s not supposed to be teaching your cunt how to mold to the shape of his cock. He’s not supposed to be massaging your clit and babbling nonsense about how he’s going to lick your pussy clean when you cum. How can he say that to a student? However, his eyes roll back at that thought.

“I’m going crazy,” he groans into your skin, mindlessly speaking his thoughts aloud. “I’m so close.”

You’d say the same if you could, but your mouth can’t form proper words with the way his long fingers are rubbing quick messy circles around your clit. Instead, you put your mouth on the shell of his ear and say his name in a filthy mewl. Your legs tense up and your toes curl; Yunho can feel you cum around his cock a beat later, encouraging your convulsing and whimpering. He can only manage to give you a few more rough thrusts before he pulls himself out and allows himself to empty his balls in quick spurts all over your torso, a mix of “fuck” and “____” leaking from his mouth at how filthy the action is, dirtying you like this. He’s a man of his word though, quickly hefting himself back down to your sopping cunt and diving face first to taste everything he missed tasting earlier. The groan of pure bliss he lets out into your sensitive cunt has you squirming away, much to his dismay. But he finds himself chuckling anyway—he got to taste your cum and, even if it was for only a few seconds, he’s satisfied.

Cleaning up and cuddling after is far from awkward, Yunho feels comfortable with his arms wrapped around you and head on your chest. You find yourself mindlessly scratching his scalp and playing with his messy hair, while his large hands massage the muscles of your thighs. It’s immensely intimate, and this scares Yunho deep inside. Unbeknownst to his stress, you’re settling into a mental state of bliss; you can’t wait to see where this night leads you after, even if it might be a little awkward back in the classroom at first. He tries not to dwell on such thoughts for too long, eventually falling asleep under your touch.

Yunho wakes up to a cold, empty bed. Glancing over at the clock on his nightstand, he catches some time he can’t be bothered with reading fully, nine-something-in-the-morning. He groans internally at the bittersweet arrival of the morning. After a few seconds of just lying there, bleary eyes staring at anything and everything, he remembers that he’s not supposed to be alone right now. The grimace that crosses his face is heavy.

He lugs himself up and out of bed to find his phone, which he’s left God knows where. After a bit of searching, he’s even more upset to see a lack of text from you about leaving. Leaving with no word after sex… Yunho has been in this position before and it makes him feel like shit. It feels even worse considering that this is not just some random woman, you are his student. He’s a chronic overthinker, he knows he is. Yet, he can’t stop his mind from filling with a plethora of miserable thoughts about what this could mean.

Did you simply want to fuck him and nothing more?

Did you regret sleeping with him and want to leave without confrontation?

Did you sleep with him to then leave and tell someone, maybe to humiliate him?

All of these thoughts scream at Yunho until he finds himself clenching his jaw, and tears are pricking at his eyes. He hates this feeling every time it happens; it makes him feel like he’s not good enough. In a moment of brief irrationality, Yunho debates if he should outright block you.

He’s impulsive like that when he’s worked up. However, after a few minutes of begging himself to calm down, he tossed his phone away and went on to make a cup of tea to ease his agitation. He knew this was a mistake from the start and he still did it.

He doesn’t get a text from you until after 11 AM.

  [Y/N: sorry for leaving without saying anything!! I forgot I had prior commitments this morning, didn’t wanna text you until I was sure you’d be up. hope you slept well :)]

Yunho doesn’t know what to think. Prior commitments? Surely this would’ve been something you would’ve mentioned before he drove you to his home last night. It is Saturday though, so it’s plausible. He opens the message and leaves you on read instead.

Earlier this morning, you were certain Yunho must have completely tired himself out after sleeping with you because he failed to wake up when your alarms went off. You make a mental note that it only takes him cumming once to make him go comatose (and maybe a little wine to boot). You had left his place with no ill intentions, and your message was truthful. So, when you get left on read by him, it ignites a small flame of insecurity in you. You’re never one to double-text a man, but considering this is something you put a great amount of effort into getting to happen, you put your pride aside when you don't get a reply by the next day.

  [Y/N: Wondering if you want to try a new restaurant after work tomorrow… Let me know if you’re interested!]

To your surprise, Yunho replies that he’s too busy. He doesn’t offer to reschedule for a better day, which isn’t like him. Instead of taking it too seriously and replying something disheartened, you let him know that you understand and to let you know if anything changes. He opens this message and doesn’t reply. You try again on Tuesday. This time, your inquiry is more succinct, no fluff.

  [Y/N: Are you free Wednesday?]

He answers this similarly to the last attempt, maintaining that he’s too busy to see you that day as well. However, this text is more curt than the last. When you cave in and ask him which days he’s not busy, he leaves you on read, again.

  [Y/N: Do you have a free moment to talk then?]

Yunho doesn’t open this text altogether, and the disgruntlement this stirs within you lingers in your system all day, even when you decide to go out with your friends to clear your mind.

Throughout his class with you the following day, you endure Yunho’s eyes practically boring into you at various points in time. It’s like an itch that can’t be scratched, nagging at your scalp while you keep your head downcast towards your laptop. Thoroughly, as distractions do, it keeps you on edge and unfocused throughout the whole lecture. It doesn’t help that Yeosang is out today, so you feel alone even surrounded by so many people.

At some point, during a quiet moment of everyone completing an individual assignment he had handed out, you glance up over the screen of your laptop and catch his attentive eyes gazing back. He gnaws on the nail of this thumb as he usually does when his brain is on overdrive, his eyes calmly lingering on the fixation of all his thoughts. Eventually, he turns them away and decides to focus on something else irrelevant involving his phone. Anything to take you off of his mind.

You quietly snicker to yourself and roll your eyes. So, he can play on his phone just fine during class but can’t find the time to text you and talk? Men will be men… If he just wanted to sleep with you and leave at that, he could at least tell you, you brood. You try not to let it get to you, but it’s hard to focus on anything for the last half hour of class. You don’t bother sticking around after and instead, preoccupy yourself by striking up a conversation with another acquaintance on the way out of the doors. Yunho notices the way you act like he doesn’t exist while leaving and it makes him a bit bitter. He knows it’s irrational, but you’ve really done a number on him, so he can’t help it.

On Thursday, you’re sick of the games altogether. Being the super sleuth you were at the beginning of this mess, you knew when Yunho typically went to his office in between classes to get grading done that he couldn’t do throughout the day. So, when you finish your mathematics class, you pack up your things quickly, knowing he should be roaming this same hall in very little time. There’s one thing–or person, you suppose–that you didn’t account for in this plan.

“You’re terrible at covering hickeys, you know,” Hongjoong chides, eyeing your messy job at applying makeup to your neck.

To be fair to yourself, you hadn’t realized Yunho had sucked one onto your skin the night you both slept together, and the dark blotch was too annoying to deal with every single day. You bruise too easily and they don’t go away fast enough. Admittedly, you had slacked off on the cover-up today. You chalk it up to secretly being in Fight Club, which you remind him, the number rule is to never talk about Fight Club! That, of course, was not a good enough reason for Hongjoong, and you regret that you didn’t acknowledge beforehand he would surely grill you endlessly about your recreational pastimes.

“Okay seriously, I just wore my choker too tight yesterday and it pinched my neck, that's all,” you explain as he quickly follows you out of the classroom. He squints at you with skeptical eyes, as if he is not believing any of the piping hot shit you’re serving him on a platter. Phase two was to gaze at him with winsome eyes, ones he was definitely familiar with. They always worked on Yeosang, but Hongjoong was harder to subdue.

“Don’t.”

“Joong, I’m telling you, there’s nothing more for me to answer here.”

You employ a small pout to boot.

“And you think I believe that?”

“I think you should believe it.”

He rolls his eyes in annoyance. Meanwhile, your eyes inconspicuously search for Yunho in the sea of classmates flooding the hallway; there was a very important conversation you had hyped yourself up to finally have with him. One that surely would not be done if it didn’t get done today, at this very moment. That would obviously fail to happen if Hongjoong kept pestering you with his concerns. Suddenly, your eyes spot the tail end of Yunho’s styled hair turning the corner and leaving the hallway. Goddammit!

“Joong, I really gotta go,” you say frantically and secure your backpack onto your back. His lips open slightly in puzzlement, but there’s nothing he can say before you’re already shoving people out of the way to make it through the hallway to follow him to his office.

You take the stairs while he takes the elevator to waste some time; hopefully, he'll be set up and comfortable by the time you get to his floor. When you make it to his office, he’s indeed already seated and filtering through sheets of work from students during the last class. You don’t bother knocking before entering; he hadn’t afforded you the comfort of manners lately, so neither would you.

Honestly, had anyone else burst into his office so unannounced like this, he might've cussed them out by accident. But before he can get any words out, you can see the physical shift from annoyance to puzzlement wash over his face as he realizes it’s you, then, genuine dread graces his face before downcasting his gaze.

“I need to talk to you,” you insist, “Now.”

He’s having a hard time even meeting your eyes when you’re speaking and it’s pissing you off tremendously.

“I’m a bit busy right now,” he sighs, now in the process of looking through his desk for a pen that works. “It’ll have to wait for another time.”

You ignore him entirely, “Why are you avoiding me, Yunho?”

“I’m not avoiding you,” Yunho quickly objects. “I’m just–”

“You’ve blown me off twice this week already,” you counter. “Now I can’t even come see you at your office?”

Yunho puts his head in his hands and tries to collect his thoughts. He’s too sensitive to handle this conversation with no preparation beforehand. Then again, the longer he keeps isolating, the longer he’s going to keep feeling like shit. He can hear the undertone of hurt in your words, but he’s only doing what’s best for you, right?

“The least you could do is give me a real reason,” you continue. He finally lifts his head and meets your frustrated eyes. “Just give me a real reason to and I’ll fuck-off all you want.”

“____, that night was a mistake,” he tells you simply. The look in his eyes says otherwise. You know he’s lying but it still feels like a punch in the gut.

“A mistake?”

“It’s something that shouldn’t have happened, and it was inappropriate of me to do that with you. Let’s just forget about it and move on, please.”

You furrow your brows in agitation, “You really feel that way?”

“I do,” he murmurs, eyes falling back to the papers in front of him. He visibly hesitates for the briefest moment before picking up his pen and resuming his grading. This feeling of rejection hurts a little more than usual. Why do you feel like a failure? Why do you feel like a fuck-up? Maybe it’s because of the effort you put into this man, unlike many others. You stand there in his doorway uncomfortably silent until you find it in yourself to offer some final words.

“We’re both adults, Yunho,” you remind him in a voice that airs on the more serious side of yourself. He’s never heard you sound such a way with him. “No one has to know what two grown adults do in their free time. And you don’t owe anyone any explanations.”

When he doesn’t look up from his paperwork anymore, you finally leave and gently close the door behind you.

Nearly a week after that day, your phone begins to ring while you’re out at a bar with friends. Yeosang’s nosy eyes catch the name on the screen and he gives you an incredulous look. His name still has a heart beside it and you haven’t updated him on anything regarding Yunho since telling him that you both were texting each other outside of class.

“What is he doing calling you at 9 PM, miss?” he teases as you move your phone to your lap, “Booty call?”

“Would you like to ask him yourself?” you snort.

“Boo, why can I never know anything–”

“Oh but when I mention the obvious hickey, I’m imagining things, huh?” Hongjoong interjects with narrowed eyes when he overhears you both bickering. “Who’s the mystery man?”

“It’s nobody,” both you and Yeosang say in unison.

Hongjoong quirks a brow at how you both are gazing at him with matching smiles, suspiciously. He lets it go quickly and instead butts into Mingi and his girlfriend’s conversation. By the time you glance at your phone, Yunho’s call has already gone fully unanswered. Subsequently, you chose not to return the call later when you’re done and home. You didn’t necessarily want to talk to someone who called such an intimate moment with you a mistake. And especially not intoxicated. If he wants to talk to me that bad, he’d just send whatever he needs to say in a text, you tell yourself. But, of course, those texts don’t come. Yunho doesn’t know how to express himself like that over message. However, after getting wasted, it takes everything within you not to text him first in a fit of overwhelming horniness. What’s the worst that could come from letting him know that you’re craving the feeling of that thick cock of his splitting you open, or how maybe this time you should test out your gag reflex? Yeosang knows you well enough to take your phone from you after a certain amount of shots, so you don’t get that opportunity anyway. God bless your best friend.

A couple of days later, you still find yourself unable to let things go. How can you when Yeosang brings it up any time you speak alone? For someone so sure you were making a huge mistake, he sure is desperate for the tea. It’s like he’s your frontline cheerleader (which he usually is anyway). If he found out you both fucked, surely he’d lose his mind.

“You can’t keep me in the dark, I’m still dying to know how much progress you’re making with Mr. Jeong after seeing him call you that night,” Yeosang pleads, “Have you both met up in private off of campus yet?”

“That’s classified info,” you state and try to stifle your subsequent laughter when you hear him grumble. You still hadn’t found it within yourself yet to tell him that your plan had failed. “You’ll know by if I pass this class or not.”

“Just a little hint, please? I’m on my knees.”

“Progress is being made, Yeo,” you disclose in a sing-song voice. Surely a little white lie wouldn’t hurt in the meantime, “He’s a very good conversationalist, you know. With that deep voice of his, and especially late at night.”

Yeosang groans in annoyance, “You’re killing me ____, I’m too curious! You didn’t entertain a single man at the bar, something juicy has to be happening.”

You debate on at least telling him about the extra study sessions you and Yunho had been having before things were soiled, the innocent stuff that he could gush and tease you over. But, just as you’re about to say something, he cuts you off unknowingly.

“Shit, Mingi’s calling. Le’me call you back,” Yeosang groans, and you offer a hum of affirmation before the line clicks. Maybe it’s for the best that you had been interrupted before you put your foot in your mouth.

You quickly fill the silence by shuffling one of your ‘Doing Chores’ playlists and focusing your mind on cooking the remainder of your dinner. A couple of minutes later, the chime of your phone interrupts your music. You continue to focus on stirring while your other hand carelessly presses the answer option.

“That was quick,” you giggle.

“Felt like forever to me,” a familiar, deep voice replies. You freeze and glance over to see Yunho’s name on the screen of your phone in place of your best friend’s.

  Fuck.

“Good evening, Mr. Jeong,” you reply instead. “I thought you were someone else, my apologies.”

“Have we really already reverted back to the formalities?” he sighs and his voice already sounds a bit defeated.

You roll your eyes, “I’m a bit preoccupied right now. So unless you’d like to discuss my class work, I don’t have time to entertain this.”

“Just give me five minutes, please.”

You turn off the stove and snatch up your phone before ambling to your bedroom.

“Spit it out already, Yunho.”

“I can’t stop thinking about you ____,” he admits.

Hearing you say his first name makes him feel a smidge better, even if it’s in irritation. He wonders if you can feel his heart pounding through the speaker or the way it makes his fingers tremble while holding the phone. “I was just scared, you have to understand that at least. I told you I’ve never done that kind of thing before, ever.”

“Thought it was a mistake–”

“I only said that because you left without saying anything. I thought you regretted it!”

“I literally told you why I did that, you decided to not believe me apparently,” you counter, voice laced with the slightest bit of frustration as you sit on your bed. Then you add in a mutter, “Instead of talking with me like an adult.”

There’s a long moment of silence. He doesn’t hang up though, so neither do you. You stare at the timer under his name, continuing to count up seconds full of emptiness.

“I’m really sorry,” Yunho finally sighs. “I said a lot of things I didn’t mean. I was just scared.” You remain silent and it eats at his confidence slowly. He’s desperate and doesn’t really care if it shows at this point, so he goes on to fill the silence again, “You were right, we’re adults. It’s not anybody else’s business what happens outside of campus. That’s why I’m trying to fix things now. Please.”

You sigh heavily while stroking your temples. This conversation is not something you had prepared yourself for, but the desperation in his voice is hitting you right in the gut. You know he’s being sincere, but it’s just hard to make yourself that vulnerable as well. You both know the truth is that it’s not okay, none of this is. It’s all extremely inappropriate. What you are doing with each other could ruin both of your lives if found out before you graduate. It’s risky; and yet, you still find yourself saying a sentence you definitely shouldn’t be saying:

“Listen, I genuinely like you Yunho.”

“And I genuinely like you too, ____. So let me take you on a proper date,” he says a little too hastily, but he can’t stop himself from the excitement that bubbles inside of him, stemming solely from you even reciprocating his feelings, “And not just a dinner like usual, I mean something thoughtful.”

“Something thoughtful…” you repeat after him, accidentally punctuating it with a giggle at how foolish the whole situation seems. “Are you serious about that?”

“Absolutely,” he assures you, “Only if you want to, of course.”

You sigh and smile to yourself at how heartfelt he sounds. Sure, there are millions of ways this could go extremely wrong, but you decide to ignore those thoughts and take him up on his offer. If you were one to listen to the better part of your judgment, you wouldn’t have gotten yourself into this situation in the first place. It would be a shame to let that work you put in go to waste just because of a little hiccup in the road. Besides, Yunho was surely the best fuck you had received in quite some time. There was plenty of time through the rest of the semester to explore that side of him again as well. The conversation ends with you both agreeing to meet with each other in a few days, Yunho promising to make it enjoyable even though it’ll be discrete.

♡ taglist for those who replied to my interest post: @yeos-bunny @sharksandminhos @sannieluvrr

[chiiyuuvv]

jo's diary ★

classmate!jo 1.2k words

notes! inspired from "when &t likes you" brief of harua, taki, maki, and being drunk

▸ 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺?

august 2th, friday, 11:20 am

dear diary.. never thought i’d be writing in my journal during school hours, i must have accidentally slipped it in my bag when i was studying with maki last night. i know i should be paying attention to my lecture, but i can’t focus when she’s around. i have no clue what her name is, but i know she’s the prettiest girl i’ve laid my eyes on. apparently her class dispersed, or did she need to have a word with my teacher? i can’t remember, my mind went blank when she stepped in the room. anyways, there’s a test coming up and i really need to focus, no matter how difficult it is. cya :) 

6th, tuesday, 9:39 pm

i saw her again, the pretty girl. i bumped into her in the hallway.. literally. she was carrying some books and couldn’t see what was in front of her while i was zoned out on my music. her books fell when we collided, and i quickly rushed to help clean up the mess. i didn’t even realize it was her until we made eye contact. truthly, i had forgotten all about her after she entered my class, so imagine how shocked i was when i saw her again. she looked.. so precious up front, i completely froze when our eyes locked. there’s so many things i wanted to say, so much i wanted to do, but our time was cut short when the ball rang. she mustered a small, very cute “sorry,” took her books out of my hands, and ran to class. i was still frozen solid. i even got a tardy for being late. i’m such a loser.

8th, thursday, 7:56 pm

i don’t know what came over me, but i asked for the pretty girl’s name today. it’s y/n.. it suits her well. i learnt she has a tendency to carry large books half her size everywhere, so i offered to take them off her hands. at the time, it felt natural to want to help her but to think about it, that was so weird. everyone knows me as the quiet guy, i don’t know when the random surge of confidence blossomed. i’m sure my friends are probably cheering me on, that is.. if i told them about y/n. i’m keeping her as a secret as of now, i don’t want someone like taki scaring her off. that is, if she even likes me. i doubt it, she’s so out of my league. 

10th, saturday, 3:21 am

she has the cutest giggle, it keeps ringing in my head. i can’t get her out of my mind.

12th, monday, 7:39 pm

i didn’t know y/n had the same bus route as me. as soon as i got onto the vehicle, she immediately waved me over so we could sit together. it warms my heart that she got excited to see me all because i helped carry her books. she’s so funny, my face hurts from smiling so much. and she’s also so sweet! she gave me snacks during the bus ride. i think i’m falling for her.

21th, wednesday, 6:28 am

i have a habit of carrying her books, therefore walking her to class. she’s says i’m so cute for helping her everyday, and i told her she’s even cuter. i don’t know what type of demon possessed me to say that, it just flew out my mouth. i thought she would get so uncomfortable from my remark, heck, even hate me, but she only laughed. the cutest laugh, i should say. i watched her cheeks pinken, and she had this little smile tugging at her lips whenever she looked at me. she’s so adorable, i can’t wait to see her today.

22th, thursday, 9:38 pm

i’m going to kill maki, WHY would he shout “jo’s got rizz!!” when i’m talking to the love of my life? i meant y/n. what does rizz even mean??? i definitely need to study english more.

23th, friday, 10:47 pm

the confident surge came back. this time it was even worse. i asked her out to lunch, and then her number. i guess that’s pretty tame for others, but i’m scared of making the first move. it makes me feel vulnerable. y/n was pretty chill about it, so it made me feel better about my actions. she’s so good at assuring me with things. the boys said i had hearts in my eyes while i was eating lunch with her. it probably was true considering butterflies kept roaming in my stomach from talking to her. anyways, should i put one heart beside her contact name, or two?

27th, tuesday, 8:29 pm

i’m still shaking from what happened a few hours ago. y/n invited me for ice cream after school and of course i said yes. i could never say no to that ball of sunshine. i offered to walk her home after. i was talking about something stupid when she suddenly walked super close next to me, the back of her hand brushing against mine. my heart jumped at the contact. i noticed her getting quieter as we talked, and i kept seeing her steal glances at me out of the corner of my eye. help, i got so nervous, i kept stuttering T_T and when i was about to drop her off at her house, she grabbed my face and kissed my cheek. i’m so.. i.. she ksiised mj ceek seh kassid..

28th, wednesday, 11:38 am

i bought her flowers. i bought her flowers. i bought her flowers. and then i gave them to her in front of her friends. speaking of her friends, they’ve been smirking and nudging y/n whenever i’m near. harua was with me when it happened, and he says y/n likes me. does she? there’s no way.

september 7th, saturday, 2:39 am

there was a party a few hours ago, and now y/n is asleep in my bed. i’m on the couch right now. i’m not even sure what happened, i’m still a little buzzed from the drinks. all i know is we were partying, and then i took her to my place with our hands intertwined. did i kiss her? i can’t remember anything.

7th, saturday, 8:00 am

i woke up just now feeling something heavy in my arms. turns out it’s y/n. she must have sleep walked out of my bed and to the couch, and now her face is nuzzled in my neck. i never thought this would feel so comfortable. 

21th, saturday, 12:00 am

dear diary.. after a few weeks of stressing out, i finally asked y/n out on a date. i’m so thankful for the boys and her friends for help because i was such a nervous train wreck. she looked so cute, all dressed up with a necklace i bought her a few days prior. we laughed so much, our time together was very memorable. i kissed her goodnight as well. her lips tasted like sweet strawberries. my heart is still swooning right now, and i doubt i’d be able to get a lick of sleep tonight. still, goodnight diary, and goodnight y/n, my pretty girl ♥︎

︴bonus! think i got a little carried away.. heh. anyways its midnight and i should be sleeping rn but wtv wtv wtv. ALSO it's "bandtober" meaning my updates will be slower than usual. see you in november!

▸ taglist 📬 @cherrycolaberry , @slytherinshua , @enhacolor , @lakoya (welcome!!)

🎬 navi

@chiiyuuvv on tumblr . do not steal works/headers/line dividers

[suplicyy]

hey hey hey (i sound like bokuto LOOOL) since your requests are open 👀👀 can you write something about kuroo again? i know i’m boring asf but i just can’t ignore my need to read everything about him you write. i was thinking, since they’re both in nekoma high (reader can be a second or third year like him, your choice) but maybe they’re in different classes so he would pay visit to her during breaks or even during lessons, i don’t know why but i feel like this is something he would definitely, he loves the attention after all. this is just my little idea, then you have completely free rein. thank u so much!! and dw about it taking time, i bet it’ll be worth the waiting (btw I LOVED kuroo headcannons, they’re so himm)

If you two were from different classes

Kuroo Tetsurou x Reader

— Summary: You two are from the same school, but both are in different classes.

— Tags/Genre: Fem!Reader (implied) | Fluff | Headcanons

— Warnings: None!

Before you guys started dating, you really couldn't understand how it always seemed like Kuroo was around, even though he wasn't even in your class.

There wasn't a day that went by where Kuroo wasn't barging into your classroom just to talk to you.

When I say he would do anything to see you even in separate classes, I mean anything.

There are times when even when he doesn't go to school for some reason, he always finds a way to go into school just to see you and then leave as if he had never been there.

Except for the days when he's sick as hell and can't even get out of bed. (but he would pester you via text message telling you to come visit him)

Or sometimes when Kuroo's homeroom teacher lets his students out for break early, but your homeroom teacher doesn't, so he stands next to your classroom door, patiently waiting for you to come out.

And at those times, please don't look out the hallway window, or you'll find Kuroo staring at you with some grimace through the window.

He once did just that and you burst out laughing in the middle of your math teacher's explanation, which made you have to spend all your break time helping him with a ton of paperwork.

And of course Kuroo begged the teacher to let him help you.

At least once in his life, he probably tried to pass himself off as a student of your class just to be with you. And when the teacher asked why Kuroo was in his class, he just said "You must be mistaken, teacher, I've always been from here" as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

And it's safe to say that after that, the teacher kicked him out of your classroom and gave him a nearly 10-minute lecture on how wrong it is to lie.

Someone stop him please, this boy is jumping at any opportunity to be near you...😭

LISTEN!! He would DEFINITELY tell you all the gossip that happened in his classroom.

If he knew of something scandalous, such as falsehoods between classmates, or even fights, he would rush to tell you everything and in full detail.

Many people know you two as a gossipy couple.

And I also say that whenever he has the chance, he would bring his own snack to your classroom so you can eat together, and he even brings Kenma every now and then. (only when Kuroo promises to buy him a new game)

— A/N: I really enjoyed writing this one because I identified with your request😭 At school, all my friends are in another class, while I am all alone in other, and whenever the bell rings for break, I run to their classroom to be with them!!

And don't worry about asking for the same character several times, I'm managing to get into a good writing rhythm!! So ask as many times as you want, and I will try to follow this rhythm!!

[whoisneo404]

u should write a little cute angsty one shot abt reader having a bad day and nick comforting him

I’m here.

Summary: reader breaks down in Nicks arms after a bad day.

Tw: reader cries, cursing.

It has been a bad day, one of those day were everything goes wrong. They ran out of sugar for my coffee, I hit all the red lights, all the rude people came at my shift, my manager gave me a lecture, bla bla bla.

By the end of the day, I feel exhausted. My body feels heavy, my eyes are watery, my head feels dizzy because of all the emotions I have been bottling up all day. I just wanna go home and cry. But now that I remember, Nick is at my place, I let out a sigh as I unclip my keys from my pants. When I open the door I see Nick on the couch with his laptop on his lap, typing something on it, probably an email.

‘’Hi darling. Welcome home.’’ He says to me, closing his laptop and walking over to me. I close the door and walk to the dinning table, leaving my backpack and keys on top of it and leaning into it. ‘’Hey, everything okay?’’ I massage my forehead with my hand and shake my head, I don’t want to look at him, I don’t want to cry. ‘’It’s okay, I’m here.’’ I feel his arms wrap around my body, my heart aches a bit, I wrap my arms against him and rest my head on his shoulder. ‘’Wanna tell me what happened?’’

‘’It’s dumb.’’ My voice is wobbly, sounding like I’m about to burst into tears, and I am.

‘’No, of course it’s not dumb silly. Let’s go to the couch.’’ Nick walks slowly to the couch, never letting go of me, when he sits down, I am sitting besides him, my face now hidden in the crook of his neck. ‘’What happened, honey?’’

‘’I just…’’ I feel the warm tears running down my face, I hug him tighter and he rubs my back.

‘’Shhh, it’s okay, I’m here.’’ He comforts me and I cry more, I cry for 8 or 10 minutes. He cleans my face with the sleeves of his sweater. ‘’Feel better honey?’’ I nod a bit. ‘’Good, wanna talk now?’’ I nod again. ‘’Okay. Tell me what happened.’’ I sit up a bit, looking at him in the eyes, he grabs my hands and looks at me waiting.

‘’Today was horrible, first my alarm didn’t sound and I had to rush to get ready and turns out I wasn’t running late at all so I went to the cafeteria and I order my usual but they didn’t have enough sugar so I had to drink this biter ass coffee on my way to work and I don’t know how but every time I went to cross the street the lights turner red, at every single stop. And at work all the prick and Karens came o my shift, so I had to deal with that all day long, can you believe some random lady ask me why I had my pronouns in a pin? Like, I don’t know lady, we all use them at this building. And some guy complained about me to my manager and he lectured me like I was the idiot and not this random guy who was mad we didn’t sell what he wanted.’’ I sigh, Nick nods along everything I say, his eyes not leaving mine and squeezing my hand from time to time. ‘’And I know this night was supposed to be a fun date night and we were gonna do nice and fun things but I just feel so shitty right now, I and feel like a bad boyfriend a-…’’

‘’Hey, hey.’’ Nick cuts me off. ‘’You are not a bad boyfriend for feeling bad, it’s not your fault. You had a bad day, you feel bad, it’s okay. We can still have fun, we can cuddle and watch a movie, or after you shower I can give you a massage so you feel better. I don’t care that you feel bad, it’s normal, I care about you and I want you to feel great all time but it’s impossible, so I’m here to try and cheer you up.’’ He kisses my cheek. ‘’You are a good boyfriend. The best boyfriend.’’

‘’Thanks.’’ I mumble and hug him.

‘’It’s okay. It’s over, that shitty day is over. Now you get to relax on your boyfriends’ arms and a massage and movies and snacks that I bought.’’ Nick starts kisses my head.

‘’I love you.’’ I whisper.

‘’I know, I love you more.’’

[sorendeimos]

✮ Things Severus will never say ✮

↳ a look through his diary

The pain I feel is wholly insignificant in the face of your betrayal. Oh sure, we have fought and hurt before but this time the pain I feel at your hand is so raw, so visceral, that the only way to soothe it is understanding that you are smiling. Your happiness trumps the pain I feel… I just wish you hated him like we used to so that it didn’t hurt so much when that smile was directed at him.

—after the rejected apologies

They scream and yell today. And yesterday. And every day since. Father doesn’t like when I do magic, Mother says it’s normal for My age and to just not show Father what I can do.

—age 8, 7 months after his first accidental magic

I HATE HIM I HATE HIM I HATE HIM I HATE HIM

— after his father hit him for the first time, age 8

ILL KILL HIM ILL KILL HIM ILL KILL HIM ILL KILL HIM ILL KILL HIM ILL KILL HIM ILL KILL HIM ILL KILL HIM ILL KILL HIM ILL KILL HIM ILL KILL HIM ILL KILL HIM ILL KILL HIM ILL KILL HIM ILL KILL HIM ILL KILL HIM

—after his father hits his mother the first time, age 8

I met a girl today that’s just like me. She had hair like fire and eyes like spring. I want to be Her friend.

—after meeting Lily, age 9

I told Her she’s like me. She seemed relieved. I hope She isn’t like me entirely.

—after telling Lily she’s a witch, age 9

Lily and I spend almost every day together, but never at my house. She’s too good for that place.

—on spending time with Lily, age 9, almost 10.

Petunia is the worst. I hope She gets a bee caught up that horrid upturned nose of hers.

—on Petunia, age 10

Mother has told me about Hogwarts today. She says I will be sorted Ravenclaw for my mind and thirst for knowledge. I want to be in Slytherin, to follow Her footsteps.

—on going to Hogwarts, age 10

I’m unsure what hurts more. My pride or losing my first friend. The person on whom I could depend. Who I was changing for. Who looked at me and still believed I had some semblance of good inside, even when I’d proven time and again I don’t. And now I don’t have Her so what, pray tell, is the fucking point. I’ll write to Lucius in the morning.

—after the Assault

The Malfoys, while newly-wed, are gracious hosts. I find comfort in Their home unlike anywhere I’ve ever been before. The future seems promising, and Lucius intends to speak with a benefactor on my potions skill. I shall have word back before Easter on career prospects under the sponsorship of this benefactor. If all goes well, my mastery funding will be secured, a job for after lined up, and I will no longer worry about feeding myself in the off season. Things are looking up for once.

—after Christmas, age 16

Joseph Aston - 25–34 Emily Aston - 24 -35 Joseph Aston Jr - 8–36 ••• Marie LeBlanc - 12–57 Damien LeBlanc - 45–56 ••• Charity Burbage - 37–158

I wish that the love he feels for me didn’t exist some days. He smiles at me and it feels like the sun on my skin after months of winter. He touches my hand and my skin feel alight and ablaze. It will hurt when he leaves me.

—Severus on Remus, age 15

The wolf has some fucking nerve attempting to lecture me on how to teach my class. As if he isn’t a beast in a man’s clothing. As if he isn’t a predator waiting to strike me dead.

—Severus on Remus, age 35

Potter and Black hate me, and I don’t know why. They just do… just like Father then. I suppose it's par for the course.

—musing about the marauders, age 11

I miss you. God, how I miss you. It’s been several months and it still hurts so much. So very much. Harry is safe, Dumbledore will not tell me where he is, but he is safe. Cared for. I hope he is loved. I wish I had not chosen this path. The one that took you away. But I am here now and I will work harder now to fix my mistakes. There’s clean-up to be done, people to put away. Wounds to heal, I only hope that if you look down on me, it is not with scorn with which you do it. Albus thinks this war is not over. If it isn’t… I’ll protect him. I’ll protect him with my life, I swear this. I will do for him what I should have from the beginning with you. I will change. I will be better. I will keep him safe.

—6 months after the Potters’ deaths.

He is more like his father than I expected. This will be tying. I will keep my promise but it will… be a trial.

—after Harry comes to Hogwarts

Give me patience, Lily, your son is every bit your husband and I regret to say I rise to his taunts every time. Patience, for strength, will send me to Azkaban and him to an early grave.

—sometime in Harry’s third year

This is my last entry. It has been years since the war began, longer than expected, and I will likely not make it out. I only pray the souls I doomed forgive me, but I don’t blame Them if not.

—the final page, day before the Battle.

[ronearoundblindly]

Hi! I hope you're doing well🥰

Can I be greedy? I NEED me something from the kiss prompt lust if you're willing, of just about any of them, for Autumn (Rosie) and Steve? I genuinely cannot pick, there are at least 10 kinds I'd die to read about🥲 I miss them.

(No pressure!)

eeeeee, I miss them too! I choose --a kiss after a small rejection-- because we all know I love me a bit of angst before the fluff with 🍁 Steve Rogers x super soldier!reader 🍁 [one of my Valentine's Fics for 2024]

Warnings for not much (super mild cursing) except please remember that this reader chose the name Autumn Rose Barnes after rescued from Hydra. Steve calls you 'Rosie,' zero other physical or personal descriptors. It's not an OC! Sorry to lecture, but I've gotten complaints and needed to explain this multiple times...Also, you and Steve adopted a German Shepard mix named Maple. WC 1370

Your Team, an Autumn Is Healing tale

With the fastest, most forceful, super soldier movements you can manage, you shred the single page of paper in your hands.

Those cowards delivered it while you were in your garden. They put it under your door, far back in the building, and they ran away with their tails between their legs.

“‘Not able to authorize you at this time’ MY ASS,” you screech.

“I’m sure the Council didn’t make the decision lightly.” Steve diligently picks up tiny pieces off the carpet as you toss them everywhere.

It’s all you can do not to burst straight through the walls.

“How dare they? Have I not done enough?! What more do they want??”

You aren’t an Avenger, not now, maybe not ever, and the future just looks blank when before it seemed so clear.

You can fight—you should fight,—so why not put you to work? Why not let you on the damn Team?

“They don’t trust me,” you think aloud. “All this power, and no one wants me.”

He stops at the trash and puts his hands on his hips, dejected. “That’s not—Sit down, okay? This isn’t about any of that. You are wanted and trusted here.”

“I can pull my weight, Steve. I can give back what you all have given me. I can be a team player, I promise, please. PLEASE. Tell them. Please tell them I’m ready.”

“Rosie, no one doubts you are ready or capable or any of that, and you are part of the team. More importantly, I am on your team. We all are. Only thing that happened today is some bureaucrats covered their asses—“

You and maple cock your heads in shock, but the language changes nothing.

“Then why can’t I be of use?!”

“Here,” he specifies. “In here, in the compound, of course, we trust you. You know this place. You know all of us. But sweetheart, there is so much out there.”

He changes tactics. “We don’t need—I mean, the Council doesn’t see—you were trained as a soldier, yes, but that’s not who you are. That was so you’d obey their commands. The rest of us, we’re grunts. And frankly, I’m glad you won’t be in harm’s way.”

After thinking for a few seconds, something obvious occurs to you. Steve always fights for what you want, and he’s…not now.

You rush toward him with an accusatory finger up. “You did this.”

“What? No,” Steve balks.

“You did this, didn’t you? That’s what you told them to get them to say ‘no.’ You told them I wasn’t up to it, not a real soldier. You told them I’m not cut out for the Team because you didn’t want me fighting beside you.”

“I said I wanted you safe,” he tries softly.

It’s not a wall you’re about to burst through. “You took my chance!”

“Rosie, that’s ridiculous. I never—“

His phone makes a noise like a foghorn—the call to the jets. Danger. The Team needs him.

You both look up from his hip at the same time, eyes locked between fury and compliance.

“Better go.” You scowl. “Wouldn’t want to hold you back.”

His face falls, and he stands there, listening to the alarm sound again, then again.

Without another word, Steve gives up and leaves.

You lock the door and remove his entrance privileges. It won’t keep him out, but it will slow him down and make a point when he returns.

If he wants to keep the battlefield personal, then this can be your domain. He can apply to participate. He can go through a crucible of grueling interviews and tests and then last-minute, made-up tests because they just wanted to find one reason…

And Steve handed it to them on a silver platter.

When he comes back he tries the door. You can hear the mechanical lock beep in rejection of his hand print. He tries again. He knocks, he calls out with a louder knock, and then, finally, he uses the override command, the one that they technically all have because you can’t be trusted. Not really. Not fully.

He enters the dark rooms quietly.

You’re on the bed, laying with your hands wedged between your thighs, Maple’s belly warming your feet, the window blinds all the way up, moonlight and stars visible as a small comfort.

He doesn’t know if you’re asleep or awake until you speak.

“What was the point—why put me through all this if I can’t help? Am I just a thing to breed?”

“Rosie, honey, that is not and never has been true.” Clearly cautious from your argument, Steve stays a short distance away.

“Then why did no one look for me? I was right there, strapped down for years, because that was my purpose, that’s what I was created fo—”

“So was I,” he exclaims gruffly. “I was made to do one thing, and one thing only, and I still sat in the Arctic for seventy years! It doesn’t prove shit—“ he kneels down beside the bed, holding your hands and whispering pleas into you skin “—and no one but you can define your purpose.” 

Maple whines and bows her head over the edge.

”I want you,” he continues. “I trust you. If it makes me selfish to…fine, I’m selfish. So be it. I don’t want you out there with me, I’m sorry. I don’t. See, I lost people when they got sick, when they went to war, when I went to war, when I came back, when I didn’t come back.”

He pauses, tracing small patterns over your thumb while he squeezes your hands.

“Please. Please, sweetheart. Just give me this one thing because even though you have a serum, I can’t…I can’t imagine…if anything ever…

“We are super. We are not indestructible,” he admits. “Losing you would destroy me.”

Steve looks fragile, his features shadowed by more than the night.

“You don’t need to become an Avenger. We are already on your team. We are your team. You have nothing to earn. You have nothing to fight for. We lo—I love you. I’m in awe of you because you became so much more than they tried to make you be.”

The dog howls gently in agreement.

“Me and Maple are your biggest fans, too.”

Said ‘fan’ harrumphs on cue, making Steve burst into a smile.

“There’s a whole fan club. We have a slogan—‘Go Autumn’—there’s gonna be t-shirts and scarves.” He drops your hand to spring up. “We’re your cheerleaders, right, girl? See?”

He hurdles over you to his side of the bed and starts hopping up and down with his fists in the air. Maple goes ballistic barking.

“RAH, RAH, ROSIE! RAH, RAH, ROSIE!”

Steven Grant Rogers, born the fourth of July, one-hundred plus years ago, jumps on the bed, bouncing till you reluctantly roll off and stand. 

Maple gets down with Steve, panting, and watches intently, thinking her dad has really lost the plot in a super fun way. Maybe she’ll get a treat even.

He steps in front of you, running his fingers through his disheveled hair.

“Wha’d’ya say, Miss, can I be on your team? Do you want me? You trust me?”

If you weren’t so close to tears, you would have answered him immediately. Instead, you hum.

He scoffs. “You Barneses are so picky.”

Steve pulls you into a hug, lifts your chin and says softly against your lips, “go, Autumn, go,” before capturing you in his zeal.

The truth of it is you know he wants you, and you know he trusts you. Knowing that Steve feared for your safety makes you more anxious to have him out there.

You hold him tighter.

He's right, of course, that risk is everywhere and nothing is promised. How could he say 'no' to peace of mind? You'll never be lost. He will never lose this one thing.

Though you will not be joining the Avengers, one of the many things you are a part of is this: a slow dance in the dark with a good man.

A slow, slow dance between his tongue and yours, that is.

After what feels like hours of him kissing you so sweetly, Maple is bored and stretching into a ready stance.

She yips indignantly.

You pull away from Steve. “I know, girl. I always want him to come home, too.”

He rests his forehead to yours. “She’s right. I should respect her mom’s independence.”

Maple squeals and flicks her head (and ears) to the side. Where’s her treat, you crazies? She put up with your tension all night, and she deserves a reward.

Ransom Drysdale and a kiss as a 'yes' ⬅️ ➡️ Lloyd Hansen and a kiss on a place of insecurity

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for sneaking alcohol to my under 21 cousins?

I (M, newly 21) have two cousins, i’ll call them J (M, 20) and S (F, 18).

So, at family functions, I (and the two of them, to an extent) am a loner, mostly because the rest of my family is 10+ years older than me, so we don’t have much in common to talk about. I only go if J & S are there, and they do the same for the same reason, and it’s been like that since we were children.

Since I recently turned 21, my family has encouraged me to drink with them at family functions which like, why the hell not, right. However, I didn’t want to be the only one of my cousin-group to be tipsy, so I offered them some alcohol while the adults weren’t looking. We’ve never drank together but we’ve all shared stories of drinking while well under the legal age so it’s not like I’m getting them drunk for the first time or something.

I didn’t think it was a big deal, it’s not like I’m giving them vodka at a club, I’m just giving them like, wine or beer at a family get-together. If they were to get too drunk (somehow) they’d be surrounded by people they know & trust and while I know it’s probably still a little irresponsible, it’s not necessarily dangerous. (And again, they’ve both drank before and much harder alcohol than what they serve at family parties lol)

However, when their parents found out, they were pissed at me. Which I probably should have seen coming, but I really didn’t think it was that big of a deal. They gave me a lecture on how horrible I am for it and what could have happened to them. They even asked the host not to invite me to future gatherings. It felt dramatic but I know parents are gonna parent.

If anything, I think I might be the asshole for breaking their parent’s trust, but IDK. J & S still live with their parents but they’re both legal adults so, like… idk.

For the record, I’m not asking “is what I did illegal” because obviously I know it’s a crime to give alcohol to people under 21. But that means it was also a crime when I was 19 years old and gave my 21-year-old friend money to pick up alcohol for our college party. I don’t think it makes him an asshole. A criminal, technically. An idiot, maybe. But not an asshole. But maybe it’s different for my specific situation? IDK. AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[taystrash]

Tay // 22 // Trying this writing thing again

If you’re interested, you can find me here

Previous Blogs:

IOAMB (kpop: bts, monsta x, got7, skz…)

Imagination-of-a-thirsty-weeb (anime: hxh, haiikyuu)

Imagination-of-a-fandom-slut (tv shows: teen wolf, tvd, twd…)

Masterlists, if you would like to see what’s in store:

BTS

Got7

MonstaX

How it started:

I started writing when I was 10, One direction had just debuted and I was in love. They’re how I discovered fanfiction. I never actually wrote for them myself, seeing no shortage of content for members x reader, or members x members, so I looked elsewhere. I started to get into Viners, YouTubers, and Magcon boys and I started writing for them instead. People loved it, I made au gif sets, and I honestly loved the interactions with the fics and between I and my readers. I would write day and night, hurting my shoulders, changing positions, at school thinking of writing, scribbling ideas down here and there. I abandoned that blog for another and that for another and that one to stop writing all together. All my blogs are still up and running, I’d take Teen Wolf requests on one, SKZ on another but I want THIS blog to be a truly multi-fandom blog. I tried to categorize everything, anime into one, kpop into another, I want access to everything all in one. So bear with me! I’m working to get it together! I’m excited to see what the future brings and even more excited to finally get to write again.

REQUESTS

They are open!

I currently am only going to pick back up a few fandoms, SKZ, HxH, and Teen Wolf. I will be writing for new shows such as JJK, AOT, BSD and Demon Slayer.

DISCLAIMER (not to be rude, mean, or mistaken)

I am a smut writer. I like rough, nasty, demeaning, aggressive sex and I will write about it! Please, be warned! Please, do not lecture me about it, you can find fluff, angst, and softer smut elsewhere, OR you can request it and I’ll write that for you and your tastes. I’m not here to judge and I hope no one judges me. I know it can’t be helped but I’m a nasty bitch and I want to be with other nasty bitches :((

Character List:

JJK

Sukuna

Gojo

Geto

Nanami

Shoko

Mei Mei

Toji

Choso

Mohito

Todo

Demon slayer

Giyuu

Rengoku

Muzan

Akaza

Obanai

Gyomei

Sanemi

Tengen

Kokushibo

Doma

Hantengu’s four demons

HxH

Hisoka

Illumi

Razor

The Phantom Troupe

Silva

BDS

Dazai

Fyodor

Akutagawa

Atsushi

Fukuzawa

Ranpo

Poe

Kunikida

Chuuya

Oda

Ango

Francis Scott

Tachihara

Juno

Sigma

Nikolai (clowns are sexy I swear)

Fukuchi

AOT

Eren

Armin

Connie

Jean

Floch

Levi

Erwin

Hange (will be written as they/them, you can decide whether it’s amab or afab.)

Sasha

Mikasa

Reiner

Teen wolf

Stiles

Scott

Parrish

Sheriff Stilinski

Melissa

Liam

Theo

Brett

Derek

Peter

I’ll write for every member of Stray Kids!!

Smut Games:

Feel free to pick a prompt or two to pair with a character/member

Smut Game 1 ( can be found as a link on previous stories but is no longer accessible)

Smut Game 2

Smut Game 3

Smut Game 4

Smut game 5

Happy Slutting <3

[incrediblyaccuratethoughts]

I’m Gonna Tell ‘Em (Don’t you Dare)

Ao3

Tim just wanted coffee. That’s really all he desired in life. Coffee. His position as Red Robin. And Wayne Industries to get its shit together for one goddamn day. In that order.

“Are you shitting me? I was a fucking crime lord you little terror, I don’t give a fuck-”

He’d done an all-nighter in the Batcave. Again. Trying to crack a cold case he was sure had something to do with Riddler's vague warning a few nights ago. And he was so close, but his eyes had started to close for just a little too long.

So tell him why he walked into an argument that seemed to be based around the topic of murder, at 7 in the morning. Between Jason and Damian. Who both tried to kill him at least once. Respectively.

“And I am the Demon Prodigy of the League of Assassins. I could kill a man before I could speak.”

Tim stands in the doorway, contemplating if his need for coffee is higher than his potential rate of getting maimed in the dining room.

“Yeah, but you were fucking sheltered inside the bases like goddamn Rapunzel in her-”

“I was not sheltered. You of all people should know of Mother’s harshness for disobedience-“

“Oh and I’m sure you were so disobedient Mr. Goody Two Shoes-“

Ultimately, the urge for coffee wins. Tim crosses the kitchen as unnoticeably as he can, skirting the edges and keeping his footsteps as light as he can manage on 10 hours of sleep in the last week.

He’s busy, okay?

“I’ll admit I wasn’t raised to go against the orders of a higher-up but that did not mean-”

“Bull. Fucking. Shit.”

“Did my propensity for sneaking animals into the house escaped your notice? I thought you were better trained-“

“So what? You save every bird with a broken wing you come across, but you’d willingly slit the throat of a human?”

“Yes, Todd. That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

The coffee pot is half full. Tim counts this as the one redeeming factor of this morning. The threat of getting stabbed is nothing in the face of sweet, sweet caffeine.

“What’s your fucking number then?”

“I can’t possibly know the exact-“

“Oh no, you don’t get to pull that shit on me-“

Tim considers pouring himself a cup, but he’s gonna drink the whole thing anyway and he’s exhausted enough to zone out during Alfred’s inevitable lecture, so he takes the whole pot and tips it back.

“I was sent out for missions when I was barely more than a toddler. You can’t expect me to remember every-“

“Ra’s had files on every fucking mission I did while brain dead and high on Lazarus rage, there’s no fucking way he didn’t have an exact-“

Tim chugs his precious coffee. The temperature is surprisingly cool enough that he doesn't immediately burn his tongue. Not that a few scorched taste buds would stop Tim from inhaling the only thing between him and unconscious. But it’s the thought that counts.

“What’s yours then, Todd?”

“Nope. Not until you tell me yours first. I’m not about to have you raise the number because I told you mine.”

“That’s preposterous. I would do no such thing.”

Tim calculates his chances of making it back out of the kitchen with a quarter pot of coffee in his hands and decides his caffeine fix is safer off with a few counters between him and his homicidal brothers.

And yah know. His physical well-being. But that’s pretty low on his ‘fucks to give list’ at the moment.

“I don’t trust a fucking word coming out of your mouth-“

“There’s an easy way to settle this if you’d just-“

“What? Shut up? Drop the argument? No fucking-“

“We can write it down separately and then show it to each other at the same time."

“…huh.”

Tim looks up in genuine fear when both of his siblings go quiet. That’s never a good sign. Not in this house.

There’s a window to his right that he could probably smash through if it came to it.

Neither of them are looking at him though, just regarding each other with much less animosity than a few seconds ago. Tim decides he’s probably fine and goes back to his coffee.

“I will go retrieve a piece of paper and two pens.”

Damian leaves the room and Tim freezes like if he stays still enough it’ll keep Jason from noticing him. Unfortunately, now that his older brother’s attention is directed to his surroundings and not just screaming at a 12-year-old, he makes direct eye contact with Tim.

“Oh hey, Timmers. How long have you been here?”

Tim stares at him blankly. He- doesn’t know what answer Jason wants from him and he’s not willing to face his older brother’s wrath if he’d been having what he thought was a private conversation.

“Sorry about the noise. I hope we didn’t wake you up.” Jason says after it’s clear that he isn't getting answers out of Tim.

As if the manor isn’t literally soundproofed. For this exact reason.

Tim’s 17 years of social etiquette training won’t let him just not answer the open-ended comment, but god does he wish that it did.

“No, I was already up.”

Jason nods as if he was expecting that answer. Which is fair. Tim’s sure he looks just as tired as he feels. His eye bags could hold all of his emotional trauma. They’re Guchi.

“And does Alfred know you’re drinking straight from the pot?” Jason motions to the carafe Tim’s clutching like a lifeline. Because it is.

Tim opens his mouth to lie through his teeth, but is saved by Damian’s re-entry. Wow, he’s never been so glad to see his stab-happy younger brother.

True to his word, the kid’s carrying a few pieces of paper and pens. Tim could leave now. He could casually walk right past them, out of the kitchen, and back to the cave to keep working on his case, but dammit, he’s invested now.

He’s still not sure what this argument is about exactly, but he’s willing to wait a few more minutes to satiate his curiosity now that he’s tentatively sure that the argument isn’t going to evolve into physical violence.

“I’ve acquired the tools to finish this once and for all, Todd.” Damian announces, sliding half of his spoils to Jason.

“Great. We’ll write our body count down and on 3 we’ll turn ‘em around. Got it?”

“Don’t tell me what to do” Damian grumbles, but writes dutifully anyway. The kid would be funny if he didn’t back his threats up with swords.

Tim is. Still lost, but he’s always secretly wondered how many people his brothers have killed. In a morbid way. Mostly because he wants to know if the murder attempts on him were a particularly special event or just a pattern. For his mental health's sake.

“Got it?” Jason asks, holding his paper close to his chest so no one can peek. Tim doesn’t know who would, considering he’s the only one in the kitchen that’s not a part of this squabble, but Damian copies the movement and Tim finds himself inching closer, taking the last swig of his coffee.

“One.”

“Two.”

“Three!”

They flip the papers around and for a moment the kitchen is quiet.

“FUCK YEAH!” Jason pumps his fist in the air with a whoop. “Ha! Take that, Demon Brat! I’m the Robin with the highest kill count!”

Tim spits out his coffee and coughs violently. It’s partially because he got some in his lungs, but also to cover the incredulous laughter bursting uncontrollably out of him. It takes him a good few seconds to get his breathing under control, but when he looks up, his brothers are staring at him.

For a moment he’s tempted. So fucking tempted. Because he hasn’t told anyone anything more than bits and pieces about his time with the League. Hell, the only reason his family even knows about his little stint playing lap dog for Ra’s, is because he choked out a vague explanation about his missing spleen when he went into sepsis.

They don’t know about the missions he was sent on. The people he sold out. And most importantly, the multiple bases he blew up because he was crazier than the Joker after Bart and Kon’s death and then the near miss with Bruce.

The bases he absolutely didn’t evacuate. With hundreds of people inside. A few actually avalanched down mountainsides, and he’d eat his Batarang if any of them survived.

The only word he’d confidently use to describe his mental state then, is feral.

He didn’t have to blow them up. He really didn’t. A good few of the bases he’d never actually seen before he snuck in to level the place, but he’d been having a shitty year so naturally, he was going to make sure Ra’s got to have one too.

Not to mention that Tim was as depressed as he’d ever been and wasn’t particularly giving a lot of fucks about if he died during his warpath. He’d already lost a spleen, what were a few more organs?

So this argument? This competition? He finds it objectively fucking hilarious.

Damian and Jason are still staring at him in bewilderment, and for a moment -just a wild moment- he thinks about telling them.

Explaining how he was just. So done. And could only think of one way out, so he systematically hacked into every base he could get his hands on. Stole as many files as he could during his time constraint. And then blew all of them sky-high.

Thought about telling them how on one particularly bad night, gone through every log of the people in those bases. How he hadn’t been ‘sick’ as he claimed the week after he managed to crawl out of his safe house.

He was just too horrified to look anyone in the eye.

It would be funny to watch his family’s expressions go through the five stages of grief and add a few more just for funsies, if they even believed him at all. But no. Tim had his secrets and he was going to take them to the grave.

He grinned at his brothers, patted Jason on the shoulder with a quiet congratulations, and strolled out of the kitchen.

Tim had cases to solve and letting his family assume he wasn’t capable of murder was better for all of them in the long run.

No matter how wrong they were.

👻

In my defense. Writing prompts make the brain noodle go brr. You can blame @coffinbirds and @batcavescolony for these posts.

[obnoxioussmiley]

Partners in Crime | Grant Ward

Synopsis: Being childhood best friends with Grant Ward means you’ve been through the best and worst of times together. What happens when it grows into something more?

Pairings: Grant Ward X Gender Neutral!Reader

Warnings: cursing, mentions of blood and severe injuries (amputation), use of Y/n L/n,

Notes: this took me way too long to put together

——————————

1993 - Age 10

“Y/n!” Their parent yelled from downstairs. “Grant’s here!”

“Coming!” Y/n raced out of their room and down the stairs, a grin on their face.

Grant stood by the front door, shivering from the cold with mud all over his face and in his hair. Tears had dried and left streaks on his cheeks, and he looked rightfully pissed off, but the anger dissolved upon seeing his cheerful best friend.

“What happened to you?” Y/n giggled, going into the nearby kitchen and grabbing a washcloth, wetting it.

Grant scowled but took the cloth, wiping his face. “Christian tried to make me put Thomas in the well again. I told him no so he pushed me in the mud and held me under the water.” He coughed hoarsely into his elbow. “I think I’ve still got mud up my nose.���

“Run here next time, I think together we could take him,” Y/n joked. When Grant laughed back, they broke out into a grin. They offered, “You wanna play Nintendo?”

At the mention of the Super Nintendo gaming console, Grant smiled too, nodding his head. The two friends did their typical handshake and raced up the stairs to the bedroom.

1998 - Age 15

The pair sat in Y/n’s bedroom playing video games, like they had plenty of times before, but this time wasn’t the same. Grant’s heart wasn’t in the game and he was missing all his jumps - something he never did.

Y/n glanced at him and sighed, pausing the game. Grant didn’t even bother saying anything, knowing the cause. Narrowing their eyes, Y/n leapt at their friend, attacking his sides and tickling him. Grant let out a (totally) manly screech before laughing and wrestling to get his revenge.

The two laid back, panting and laughing. As the fun subdued, Grant looked somber again. “I can’t believe this is fucking happening,” he sighed, “I can’t believe this is the last time I’m gonna sit on your bed and play Super Mario World.”

Y/n knew what Grant was talking about - his parents had decided to send him away to some military training cadet program to “knock some sense into him”. Thanking now was a better time than ever, Y/n reached and grabbed an envelope off their night stand.

With a sigh of their own, Y/n agreed, “Yeah, me too.”

Grant turned his head towards his friend, obviously confused. “What?”

Y/n couldn’t help the smirk that grew on their face as they handed him the envelope. Grant grabbed the envelope and read the return address, his eyes widening as he sat up.

“You did not,” He said, to which Y/n told him to open it. He scrambled to take the letter out and skimmed his eyes over it. He looked at them with a bewildered look. “You did this for me?”

Y/n grinned sitting up enough to do their handshake, “Where you go, I go. If that happens to be boot camp, so be it.”

1999 - Age 16

Y/n walked into the juvenile facility visitor center with a grim look on their face. The cadet uniform stood out in the room and they received some odd stares from the inmates present.

But when Grant and them saw each other, they practically rushed into a hug. Y/n slammed their hand to pat on Grant’s back, “You’re fucking crazy, dude.”

Grant pulled back, waving his hand as he went to sit at the table. “I don’t want to hear a lecture.”

“I’m not here to lecture you,” Y/n said, joining him, “I’m here to tell you you’re a dumbass.” Grant gave his friend a pointed look, to which they simply grinned. “Am I wrong?”

Grant simply shrugged, propping an elbow on the table and resting his head in his hand. “I don’t know. That has yet to be determined.” He glanced at his friend, “Is Christian okay?”

Y/n nodded, “He’s fine. He’s a tough piece of shit.” Grant chuckled and a silence fell between them. “You could’ve told me. I could’ve helped you.”

Grant scoffed, “Yeah, help talk me out of it.”

“Well, duh, obviously that’d be what I try first,” Y/n replied. “But we both know I couldn’t have stopped you, if you wanted it bad enough. I could’ve helped you at least not get caught.”

Grant looked absolutely astonished at this. “Are you serious?”

“Dead serious,” Y/n deadpanned at him, “How many times I gotta tell you? You’re my partner in crime, Grant.”

Y/n held out their hand for the handshake, and Grant just shook his head out of bewilderment, sticking his hand out, too. He couldn’t believe a person like this existed and wondered how he got so lucky to have them. “Thank you. For everything you’ve done for me.”

Y/n grinned, “I’ve always got your back.”

2004 - Age 21

“You’re late, L/n.” The training officer of Group B chastised Y/n as they ran towards where their supervising officer stood with the rest of the cadets. Y/n had been scouted by Victoria Hand during their fifth year of military cadet training. Now, they were at the S.H.I.E.L.D. Academy of Operations, in the middle of their first year.

They stepped into line with the other students in their group, “It won’t happen again, ma’am.”

“That’s what you said the last four times.” Some of the other cadets held back laughs as Y/n held back a shit-eating grin. “And since you all think that’s so funny, you now get to do six extra laps around campus once we’re done working with Group C.”

No one dared make another sound to avoid further punishment from the officer, but they all internally groaned. Everyone’s attention was drawn away as another group of students approached the training area.

“You’ve all trained with each other plenty, it’s time you start facing some new opponents. Hand-to-hand combat. Partner up.”

Y/n surveyed the group of students and their eyes nearly popped out of their skull when they landed on a familiar face.

“No way,” Y/n spoke loudly,” Is that Grant fucking Ward?”

At hearing his name, he turned, an equal amount of surprise visible on his face. The two approached each other, sizing the other up before reaching their hands out. Handshake.

“What are the odds?” Grant asked with a grin.

“Pretty slim,” Y/n leaned closer and spoke in a hushed tone, “Considering last I heard you had been busted out of jail.” Grant gave them a look that said “shut the hell up”, so they backed off, holding their hands up in surrender. “I’m just saying.”

“I’m gonna have to tell you about that later, huh?” Grant sighed, acting dejected. Deep down, he was ecstatic. After Garrett broke him out of the juvenile center, he had wondered if he’d ever see his friend again.

“Oh, you know it,” Y/n grinned. The officers ordered them to start practicing, so the pair fell into position and began their duel. It was honestly a tough fight, but at one point Grant slipped up, and Y/n had him pinned. “Tapping out?” He struggled a little bit more before relaxing and tapping the mat beneath them.

They sat back on the mat, both catching their breath. Grant couldn't help himself and stared at his friend as they wiped the sweat off their forehead. They looked the same, but so different. The silly, bratty little kid he once knew had grown up into a cocky but mature adult, and they looked good. Baby fat gone, muscles defined. What the hell was he thinking?

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Y/n shot him a wink, and his stomach flipped, though he hid it perfectly. One of the many perks of espionage.

“I just can’t believe you’re here,” Grant breathed out, knowing that part was true.

“You can’t get rid of me that easily,” Y/n got to their feet, offering their friend a hand. They pulled him to his feet and stood a few feet away. “Round two?”

2009 - Age 26

Waking up, Y/n’s head was spinning. They tried opening their eyes, but nearly puked when they looked into the bright lights. Squeezing their eyelids shut, they swallowed back the bile as the light against their eyelids dimmed.

Opening their eyes, Y/n wasn’t surprised to see it was Grant by the light switch. Unable to help themselves in their dazed, painkiller influenced state, they wore a lazy grin, watching as he leaned against the wall.

“Grant Ward, here to nurse me back to health,” They joked. Grant let out a small laugh, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes, and Y/n frowned. “I’m fine, Grant.”

As if they struck a nerve, Grant fumed, “You’re fine, huh? Is that right?” He stepped forward, grabbing the corner of the blanket and pulling it back enough to reveal Y/n’s leg. Or rather, lack thereof.

The pair had been partners on what was supposed to be a simple reconnaissance mission, each posing as hotel staff to try and gather intel on a deal going down between two infamous criminals. However, you can’t account for everything, and an unknown factor caused a firefight that Y/n got caught in the middle of. The result was a bullet in the right bicep, one in the right shoulder, two in the abdomen, and too many in the left leg. The damage to their tibia, fibula, and knee cap was extensive and the flesh had been torn apart, nearly leading them to bleed out. The medical team had decided the bottom half of their leg was irreparable and made the life-saving decision to amputate.

Y/n sighed, “Yeah. I’m not gonna lie, it’s pretty rough.”

This just angered Grant further. “Pretty rough? Y/n, are you kidding me? You almost died. You’re missing a leg. How are you being so nonchalant about this?” He ran a hand through his hair, pacing.

“Because I didn’t die,” Y/n shrugged, “And Shield technology is crazy wicked. I’ll get a kick ass prosthetic, maybe it’ll have lasers or something, and I’ll be back in the field in no time.”

Grant shook his head, sitting down in the chair to the left of the bed. He leaned on his knees, hands folded in front of him. “It should’ve been me.”

That took them aback. In disbelief, Y/n questioned, “What?”

“I should've been the one on the ground floor instead of you,” He stared off into space, “You don’t deserve this.”

Y/n stared at him, baffled. The sincerity in his voice, the guilt in his brown eyes, the way his jaw clenched in anger just thinking about it; it was mystifying. For the first time, Y/n was seeing Grant in an entirely different light. Because who else had ever wished they could take their place in a shitty situation like this? No one. Except Grant.

They reached out as far as they could, placing a hand on his bicep. He turned his head to glance at their hand, then looked in their eyes. Y/n tugged on his arm until they could grab his hand, giving it a squeeze.

“Grant, you took down sixteen armed mercenaries in less than three minutes, gave me first aid to the best of your abilities, and carried me to the extraction point all by yourself,” Y/n rambled, “I wouldn’t be here right now if it weren’t for you. You saved my life.”

The pair just sat there staring at each other like there was no one else in the world. Some invisible force seemed to pull at them and Grant started to lean closer, until a knock startled them. The hand holding quickly turned into their usual, casual handshake.

John Garrett, Grant’s supervising officer, opened the door. “I’m not interrupting, am I?” He wore a teasing smirk but there was a dangerous, almost threatening look in his eyes that didn’t go unnoticed by either agent.

Grant cleared his throat, “No sir.” Garrett motioned for him to join him outside the room and he nodded, standing up. He offered Y/n an apologetic look, to which they gave him an endearing, almost loving smile.

2013 - Age 30

“So, you’re the genius engineer I’ve hear about, right?” Y/n questioned, shaking the hand of Leo Fitz. They were in the lab station on the ‘Bus’, the airplane where the agent had been asked to accompany Agent Coulson’s newly formed team.

Unfortunately, after the incident that left Y/n amputated all those years ago, they were never cleared to go back out in the field (at least not to the same extent). Despite their best efforts, Y/n could not pass tests with the same flying colors as before, and their disability was deemed an obstacle that disallowed them to meet the requirements for combat. Still, the years of experience and loyalty to Shield proved that they were valuable and they became a psychologist and profiler.

“Yes, that’s me,” Fitz answered, thick accent laced with excitement, “Are you the one with the leg?”

To answer his question, Y/n lifted their leg onto a nearby table and pulled up the pant of their sweatpants, revealing the prosthetic. It was a technological marvel, robotics and biology combined.

Fitz wore a look of wonder and curiosity, “Okay, this is amazing.” Y/n grinned.

“Don’t give them an inch,” Grant’s voice filled the room as he stood by the door. “They’ll ask you to give it lasers.” Fits laughed until he saw the serious look on the agent’s face, to which it faded quickly.

Fixing their pants and pulling their leg off the table, Y/n smiled at their friend. It felt like the wrong word to use whenever they thought about each other, but that was all they had to go with. Being childhood best friends and partners under Shield meant that they had been stuck silently pining for each other for years; because a deeper relationship seemed forbidden, both professionally and emotionally. So, friends it was.

“And what’s so wrong with that?” Y/n joked, reaching out a hand to Grant.

The agent playfully shook his head, “Knowing you, you’d cut off your other leg with it.” He grabbed their hand and did their handshake, before pulling in for a hug. “It’s great to see you.”

Y/n pulled back and smiled, “Likewise.”

“Woah, did you just hug Grant Ward without being knocked unconscious?” A voice spoke from the doorway.

The pair turned to see Skye Johnson, Coulson’s recently acquired consultant. Y/n had been brought aboard the Bus to do a full analysis of her behavior and create a profile for her in the Shield database, basically to see if her being there would actually prove to be useful. She had also been ordered to keep an eye on the well-being of all of those on the plane and to provide assistance against any potential enemies during future missions.

“I did,” Y/n wore a proud look.

Ward waved an accusatory finger around the room at the hacker and two scientists. “Don’t get any ideas. They are one of very few people who get away with it.”

Y/n focused their attention on the hacker, offering a friendly smile. “I’m Agent Y/n L/n, I’m a psychologist and profiler for Shield.”

Skye wore a knowing look, “Oh, so you’re the shrink they sent to ‘clear me’.” She laughed, “Well I can promise you that I am a good cookie.”

Y/n grinned, “I believe you. And don’t worry, I’m not just here for you. I’m here to regularly talk to and evaluate everyone on this team. Especially since your last few missions have already had results that would be traumatic for normal people.”

“Traumatic?” Simmons questioned.

Y/n gave her an uneasy smile, “You jumped out of a plane because you were infected with an unknown alien virus.”

Simmons smiled, nodding along, “You make an excellent point. We are happy to have you.”

“Happy to help, doc.” Y/n then glanced at Grant, who was the most tense they had ever seen him since his younger years. They presumed this was the result of their last mission, which was investigating an Asgardian berserker staff that caused the holder to be filled with unbearable rage. Speaking to their friend, Y/n asked, “Wanna show me to my room?”

Grant agreed and picked their duffel bag off the floor, leading the way to one of the small bunks on the upper level. As they stepped into the vacant room, Grant set their bag in the bed and tried to give them a forced smile.

Y/n gave him a pointed look, closing the door behind them. “You gonna talk to me about it? Or just bottle it up inside until you inevitably lash out at an undeserving member of your team?”

Grant opened his mouth to say the first spiteful comeback that came to mind, but restrained himself. The last thing he wanted was to yell at Y/n. He settled for sitting on the bed, holding his head in his hands.

“I don’t know what that thing did to me, Y/n.” He spoke, “But I just feel so angry and borderline violent all the time about things that haven’t happened in over a decade.” He sighed, sitting up straighter. “Thankfully I’ve gotten better at hiding it so I’m not screaming at FitzSimmons like I did the other day. But I don’t know what else to do.”

Y/n sat down on the bed next to him, thinking of the best way to comfort him. “Do you remember three years ago when they told me I wasn’t going to be cleared for combat ever again?” The man nodded and they continued, “I was so frustrated because I was giving it my all just like I used to, but no matter what I did, I’d never be as good as I was. To this day, I am still angry about it.”

“Really?” Grant asked, his voice sounding both unsure.

“Yup. But I’m also so happy and satisfied with who I am now and what I do. And that’s the thing; we will never forget how certain things made us feel because we are only human.” Y/n placed a hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze, “But we do get to decide how long we let those feelings dictate us.”

Grant nodded, looking at the floor, “So what are you saying I should do?”

“Allow yourself to feel angry, but don’t let it control you. If you need to let it out, then by all means do it, but make sure it’s in a way where you hold the reins. Like boxing or something.”

“You really are god-sent, you know that?” Grant asked, finally looking at the agent.

Y/n felt their face flush, but shrugged it off, “Oh, I don’t know about-” Their sentence was cut off as Grant placed a hand on the back of their neck in pulled them in for a passionate kiss. The surprise left as soon as it came and the agent instantly reciprocated. With this new and uncharted territory came many feelings of fear and anxiety, but it also carried a connection so strong neither could resist.

Grant leaned forward, starting to push them down onto the bed, when he suddenly pulled back, putting space between the two of them. He squeezed his eyes shut, catching his breath. Y/n stared at him, face bright red and lips numb. They didn’t know what to do, so they just sat there waiting for the man to speak first.

“I’m sorry,” Grant spoke, opening his eyes, though he refused to look of them, “I don’t - I just got this, this feeling and I-” He furrowed his eyebrows together, clearly conflicted.

Y/n shook your head, “No, don’t be sorry, you’re good.” They swallowed the lump in their throat and sat up straighter. Partly joking but mostly serious, they questioned, “Did that help with the anger?”

For the first time in his life, Grant looked embarrassed, silently answering the question. “We don’t have to talk about this ever again.” He moved to get up but Y/n was quick to grab his wrist, stopping him.

Slowly, they pulled Grant close again and leaned in to kiss him once more. This time much softer, but filled with just as much feeling.

Grant sighed into the kiss, but paused to try and speak, “You don’t have to-”

“Grant.” He looked down at them, melting at the doe-eyed look they wore. They lifted a hand to rest on his cheek, feeling the stubble. “Let me help you.” The man simply nodded and they leaned back in to kiss.

2014 - Age 31

“Well, not Ward. Okay? Not award. Do you know why?” Fitz argued Agent Triplett, the stress and panic in his voice evident. “Because he’s our friend, And Simmons will find something. Go ahead. Tell him, Jemma.”

Y/n, Coulson, Triplett, and Fitz were gathered around the table, waiting anxiously as Simmons did her autopsy of Eric Keonig’s body.

Deep down, Y/n knew it was him. The crime scene screamed Grant, they knew him well enough to see that. Still, part of them refused to believe it. Grant always had a good reason for doing the things he did, so he had to have one now. But did that excuse killing a good agent, taking an innocent man’s life? The answer is obvious and Y/n felt the anger building up.

The two of them hadn’t exactly been in an official relationship, but they were crazy for each other. At least, that’s what Y/n once thought, but now they were second guessing everything. All the sneaking around to protect their careers and no conversations about what they were was turning from butterflies in their stomach to bile rising up their throat.

Grant was once a boy who just wanted to find his place in the world, to be better than those who raised him. Where did things go so horribly wrong? How did he keep this a secret for so long? Y/n felt like a fool.

Simmons sighed gravely. “He died approximately 10 hours ago of asphyxiation, after May left the premises. A thin wire was used to strangle him. His trachea is crushed, partially sliced through, so it was done in a hurry. Based on the angle of the lacerations, the killer was at least 6’2” and strong enough to,” She paused, glancing at her fellow scientist, “lift him into… Ward did this.”

Fitz shook his head, running a hand through his hair. He then turned to Y/n, knowing that they knew Grant better than anyone else. “Y/n, you know! You know him, and this can’t be right. Ward, he’s our friend, he wouldn’t do this.”

“I know him,” Y/n nodded their head, a bitter look on their face, “He did this, Fitz.”

Y/n didn’t know how they were going to react when they saw him again, but they didn’t expect to be filled with so much indifference. The mission had been given and it was like a switch flipped in the back of their mind, shutting down their emotions. They would save their anger for the real fight.

So, when Grant found them, Fitz, and Simmons hiding in the woods near where the Bus was landed, Y/n acted as if he was any other Hydra scum.

“I get the silent treatment, huh?” Grant asked, trying to get a response. He played it cool, but on the inside he felt like dying. The agent wore a blank face, but he could see the anger and hatred behind their eyes. It created an ache in his heart he hadn’t felt since he was younger, when he realized his parents didn’t love him and never would.

“You deserve it,” Simmons snapped, clearly angry. Fitz kept trying to appeal to Ward’s good side, insisting he didn’t have to do any of this, but he was ignored.

Boarding the plane, Grant brought the three agents to stand in front of Garrett.

“This is our plane. We want it back.” Fitz spoke.

“Really? Just like that, kid?” Garrett laughed, then spotted his clenched fist. “What’s he got there?”

Firs opened his palm, “One of those prank joy buzzers.” Grant gave him a weird look. “You know me, always kidding around.” Then suddenly he pressed it and an E.M.P. went off.

Garrett yelled out in pain and clutched his side as he stumbled into the nearby couch. Y/n also hissed in pain as their leg was also disabled, dropping down to the floor. But they yelled for the two scientists to run and that’s what they did.

Garrett eyed Y/n from where he now sat on the couch, Grant using some machine to try and save his cybernetics.

“You’re a fantastic agent, L/n, from what I’ve read. Top marks from your field days, which means experience.” Y/n refused to give him a reaction, staring ahead. The man sighed, wincing, “I believe there’s something we have in common, Agent L/n.” Garrett motioned to his abdomen. “With the discoveries we’re making here, you’d be surprised what we might be able to accomplish one day. You could be whole again, just like I’d be.”

Y/n couldn’t help but scoff, doing their best to pull themselves up on one leg. “What are you gonna do, grow me a new leg in a lab? I don’t think so.”

Garrett just laughed, “That does sound far-fetched. But I’m sure there’s something we could figure out, if you joined us.”

Y/n managed to stand, leaning against the wall. They looked him in the eyes, some of that anger seeping through. Through gritted teeth, they spoke, “I lost my leg trying to stop the bad guys, to protect those who can’t protect themselves. I’d gladly go through it all over again, give my life if I have to, because that is what I signed up for; that is what good people do.” They tilted their head mockingly, “You went through the same thing and what did you do? Cry and bitch about how you didn’t get your way, because you decided your life was more important than those you swore to help.” They gave a bitter chuckle, “We are not the same.”

Garrett laughed, too, before standing as well and landing a punch across their face. Y/n stumbled back a little, but spit the blood out and wiped their mouth with a grin. “You hit like a bitch, too.” Another punch.

“Y/n, stop,” Grant spoke up, but all he got in response was a look of pure distaste.

“You could’ve been great.” Garrett spit, going to swing again, but the pain in his side became too much and he collapsed down onto the couch. “Instead, you’re a brat who can’t keep their mouth shut.”

Y/n breathed heavily, spitting out some more blood. Still, they laughed, “I’d rather be a brat than a coward.”

Garrett scowled, “Get them outta here.”

Grant nodded and Y/n didn’t fight him as he led them to the hydraulic sealed room. He helped them carefully sit on the bed and sat next to them.

“I didn’t mean for things to happen like this,” He spoke, “You were never supposed to get hurt.”

Y/n let out a bittersweet laugh at that, shaking their head. “What did you think was gonna happen, Ward? I was just gonna sit and let Hydra take over?”

The refusal to use his first name hit him hard and pain washed over his face, “Don’t do that.”

“What?”

“Don’t act like we’re nothing, like I’m nothing.”

“You want me to do that?” Y/n looked at him with a tired, but pleading face, “Then be someone I can believe in. Be the person I know you are.”

Grant scoffed, “It’s not that easy.”

“No, it’s not.”

It was silent for a bit after that, the two sitting so close but feeling so far away from each other.

Y/n took a deep breath in. “I love you, Grant.” He snapped his head up and his eyes filled with warmth. “And I want to be with you. But not like this.” They looked him in the eyes. “The boy I grew up with who knew he deserved better and fought for it, who knew the difference between what’s right and wrong. That’s who I want to be with.” Their look hardened, “Not the man who follows orders because he was convinced it was his only option; to spend his life fulfilling someone else’s wishes.”

Grant looked down at the floor, “Garrett said you’re a weakness.”

“Is that what you believe? Or what he tells you to believe?” Y/n shook their head. “You always have a choice, Grant.”

A little while later…

Y/n and the rest of the team waited anxiously in the break room as they waited for Grant to walk back down the stairs.

It has been a a few months since Hydra came out of the shadows, since Grant made the choice to help Y/n, Fitz, and Simmons escape. Together they had locked and ejected themselves in one of the pods on the Bus and made the hard decision to drop out of the sky and into the ocean. But together, with the technology in the pod, the radio Grant had on his person, and a few parts from Y/n’s leg, they managed to send out a signal and get rescued from the bottom of the ocean.

It wasn’t easy after that; the battle against Hydra is still ongoing as they now face Dr. Whitehall and the threat of the obelisk. There’s also the grand appearance of Skye’s father, who seems to be a murderous psychopath. Not to mention Coulson has been acting a bit strange lately; Y/n had caught sight of some weird carvings on his desk but upon asking about it, May had strict orders to leave it alone.

And now, currently, there’s the issue of Grant’s evaluation. Of course, despite helping them escape and having fought against Hydra in the end, his loyalty was still in question since his whole professional life with Shield was a lie. He’s been under close and careful supervision, wearing a tracking wristband similar to the ones Skye had on when Y/n first met her. He’s not done any field work, only working on intelligence and information, and documenting everything he knew about Hydra and its people.

This past week, Dr. Andrew Garner was brought onto the base to do a psychology evaluation of Grant and decide if he was mentally healed from his trauma enough for field work. It was followed by a series of tests, including lie detectors, to basically quadruple check that his loyalty was no longer with Hydra. Finally, all of these evaluations were relayed to Coulson, who would then make the final decision on Grant’s future with the spy organization. And now, Grant was up in his office, hearing whatever it was he had to say.

“He’s gotta be clear, right?” Hunter asked, sipping a beer. “I mean, he’s scary but he’s a good lad.”

Skye sighed, “I don’t understand what’s taking so long. All he has to say is ‘hey, you're good’ or ‘we’re gonna wait a little longer’. Why’s he still up there?”

Y/n shrugged, bouncing their leg. They had no doubts that Grant was a ‘good lad’, as Hunter put it. He had been strong, loyal, and determined to do good by everyone for his initial betrayal all those months ago. Everyone has slowly begun to trust him again, even May (though she still keeps him at arms length). Grant should be clear.

The agent’s train of through was cut short by footsteps descending the from the upper floor. As Grant came into view, Y/n grinned, already knowing he was clear. No more wristband.

They jumped up and were the first to pull him into a tight hug, to which he chuckled. Everyone around cheered, patting him on the shoulder, shaking his hand, offering a beer.

As Y/n pulled away, Skye asked, “What took so long up there?”

Grant held up a file that was in his hand. “I’ve already got my first field mission.” More cheering.

Y/n’s eyes sparkled at him, “That’s amazing.” Before they could have a moment, Hunter came barging in, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and dragging him to sit down and insisting they all celebrate.

Later on, when it was just the two of them, laughing and talking about old times, Grant got quiet.

Y/n glanced at him, a confused look on their face. “Everything alright?”

Grant nodded, smiling a little. “Thank you. For everything.”

The agent shook their head, “You have no reason to thank me. You did this all on your own.”

“No,” he corrected, “You’ve pulled me out of the darkness so many times. You’ll probably do it again. You always save me and I don’t know if I’ll ever truly be able to thank you enough.”

Y/n stared at him with eyes filled with adoration. “Still don’t need to thank me. I do it because you’re worth saving.”

Grant held out a hand and you met him half way, doing your signature handshake. And then ending it with a kiss.

[awkward-tension-art]

Puppet on a String Chp.9 (Fives x Reader)

Chapter 8. Chapter 10.

Surgery

CW: Fives x Reader, Reader is a medical practitioner, angst, swearing, Death mention, Running from authorities, Mentions of dead characters, Inhibitor chip arc, Nala Se being cruel, Shaak Ti trying her best, lying, surgery, Fives stuns reader but its consensual, AZ-3 being a cutie, Kissing

Tag List (Thank you guys!): @notgonnaedit @spicydonut25 @bimboshaggy @amazonian-bae @tentakelspektakel

Fives shifted, groaning on the surgical bed. 

You rushed to his side, looking over your lover as he woke. He took a deep breath and moved to sit up. However, you put your hands on his chest and kept him down, “Easy, take it slow.” you murmured softly, “Take a second to orient yourself.” 

The ARC trooper nodded, blinking open his eyes. However, once it registered that you were next to him, he sat up quickly, “Mesh’la!” Without another second to waste, his arms were around you tightly. 

“Hi, love.” you responded, returning his hug. You wanted to stay like this forever. Wrapped up in each other's warm embrace.

Sadly, however, Fives let you go. He raised a hand to feel the fresh scar from the surgery, “Was…was it there?”

You nodded, and AZ-3 hovered over to raise the tumor encased in bio-glass. Once you had it in your hands, you explained everything you knew to Fives, “Yours is identical in structure and location in the brain.” You said, “But…something went wrong with Tup’s. A genetic mutation, I think.”

Your lover nodded, following along. He shifted, getting to his feet with your help, “So that means his breakdown is…isolated?”

“I’m…not sure.” you admitted. You were about to say something else, but AZ-3 interrupted you. 

“Now that we have removed your chip, we do not know what will happen to you.” the surgical droid stated. 

“So then I could snap too?” Fives jerked his head up to look at the droid.

“It is a possibility.” 

You frowned, “We don’t know that.”

The ARC trooper beside you didn’t look convinced, “But when we removed the chip from Tup, he…”

Tup’s death still hurt

“I am afraid you may die as well.” Was AZ-3’s blunt response. 

That's when you chimed in again, “It’s unlucky,” your hand went to Fives, “But we can never know. So far you're stable and coherent. All good signs.” 

Your lover rubbed his face in his hands, getting himself together, “I need to know if more clones than just Tup and I have these and when we were implanted with them.” His tone was resolute and determined. 

AZ-3 chimed in, “My analysis suggests implantation took place at the earliest stage of development, most likely when you and Tup were only embryos.” the little droid hovered up and down as he explained.

“Then we have to start there.” Fives nodded, but before he could leave the surgical room, you squeezed his hand. 

“There’s one more thing. Shaak Ti knows that we’re investigating.” you informed him, “She wanted you to know not to panic if you see her, or if she finds us. She’s on our side.” 

He nodded, giving a relieved smile, “Good. Still, we should be careful. We don’t know who is on Nala Se’s side here.” 

With a peck on his lips and a nod, you exited the room first. Fives followed you, helmet on and rifle in hand. Behind the both of you, was AZ-3. The ever loyal droid apparently wanted to see this to the end. 

You knew where the embryos were located. They were growing in the Development Wing of Tipoca City. 

Getting there was easy. You passed through some near empty hallways, and AZ-3 was able to get you access to locked doors. 

The last door was a lecture hall. Cadets filled every seat and the silence indicated they were in the middle of an exam. 

“Oh, great…” Fives sighed. 

“Just follow my lead.” You murmured, walking forward. You got the attention of the proctors overseeing the education of the cadets, “Ah, I don’t believe we’ve met.” you introduced yourself to them quietly, “Ethics Committee from the Grand Republic Medical Facility.” 

Your hand behind your back motioned for Fives and AZ-3 to get to the other side of the lecture hall.

“Ah yes, Doctor. We haven’t had the pleasure.” The Kaminoan on the left nodded to you, “The Ethics Committee usually doesn’t get involved with the education of the clones.” 

“Yes, well, a…pediatrician, Doctor Chalesia, back on Coruscant, was curious about the teaching plan.” You lied, feeling bad using one of your colleagues names for your own means, “I wanted to ask if you could send any notes or protocols to the committee.”

Behind the proctors, AZ-3 and Fives managed to get the door opened. Your lover looked back to you, and you nodded for him to keep going. 

“I would have to speak to Nala Se first, Doctor.” the Kaminoan responded, “If you want the teaching plan, you will have to ask her.” 

“Great! Understood. Thank you.” You gave a small, appreciative yet false smile, “Continue on with what you're doing.” Your steps were steady and collected through the lecture hall, doing your best to look natural and calm.

Once you were past the doors to the Embryo Development Hall, you breathed out in relief. Luckily, no one else except for Fives was inside. The room was spacious, with a gray metal ceiling and white tiles. Lined up neatly were massive machines, all holding tubes containing small, growing embryos inside.

The ARC trooper was already at one of the consoles connected to the unit containing the embryos. It hummed to life and twirled before lowering one of the tubes down to eye-level. The life inside was small, and by your estimation, was most likely a stage 1. 

AZ-3 was already processing the data when you got to his side, “I will now try a stage three embryo.” He stated, typing on the machine’s screen. It hummed again, before shifting and whirling around. After a second, and more hydraulics hissing, a large tube containing a fetus lowered to the console. 

There was a beep, and the screen lit up with a green light. 

“There it is.” your eyes widened. 

“Ah…try another.” The ARC trooper beside you commanded the droid. 

The process repeated, and just like the first, the second fetus lit up green. 

“Based on this data, I can calculate how many in this tree are altered.” AZ-3 was typing on the console again. You weren’t sure exactly what he did, but after his command, every single tube containing a stage 3 embryo lit up in the same blaring green light. 

That could only mean one thing…

“I can't believe it…” Fives breathed out.

Your eyes were wide, “They all have one.”

The door behind the two of you hissed open and the ARC trooper whirled around. His rifle was aimed and readied at the intruder, “Don’t move.”

Nala Se raised her long arms up to show she was unarmed, “Why are you doing this?” she asked, continuing to step towards you and Fives. 

“We know what you've done,” You answered, seething. 

The Kaminoan’s voice was flat as always, “What is it that you think I have done?” She got closer and once she stepped into range, your lover grabbed her.

“How do you explain this?” He growled, swinging Nala Se to stand in front of the console. His rifle was pointed up, right at her head.

“That is a structural inhibitor chip,” She responded, keeping her arms up, “which is supposed to prevent you from being aggressive, like your source, Jango Fett.”

“If it’s only supposed to suppress aggression, why hide it!?” You snapped, “Everyone who knew of its existence has been killed. Except for you, apparently.” 

“I can’t speak for why your colleagues have died,” Nala Se had her large eyes on you, “Jedi Master Syfo-Dias instructed us to implant them during your growth cycle.”

“The Jedi…?” Fives’ rifle was shaking slightly, “The Jedi had this done to us?” He sounded speechless. Even somewhat sad at such a revelation. 

The Jedi he served so loyally had tumors implanted in every clone?

But…Shaak Ti didn’t seem aware of the issue. Did she know?

“It is not uncommon to have inhibitors placed in a clone.” Nala Se said, looking back at Fives. 

You grabbed Tup’s sample and raised it to the Kaminoan scientist, “Well, this one had a mutation and failed.” you snapped, “Every single one of these tumors can do the same.”

“Up until this point, there has never been a problem.” The scientist continued to sound cold and detached. 

Fives huffed and hit Nala Se in the head with the barrel of his blaster, “Well, you have got a big problem now.”

Just as he spoke, the large doors opened again, Shaak Ti, along with several guards, sprinted inside, “Don't move!” She commanded, stopping just short of a few meters from you. Her lightsaber was pulled, and it burst to life, “Drop your weapon.”

“General Shaak Ti!” you were the one to explain first, “We know what's going on. We have evidence.”

At your words she calmed, lowering her lightsaber. She turned it off, killing the ray of energy. 

Met with her silence, you continued, “The Jedi instructed that inhibitor chips be implanted in the clones at birth, but Tup's malfunctioned,” Your words were hurried and panicked, hoping she’d believe you again. You were certain Fives having a gun pointed at the head scientist of Kamino wasn’t helping, but maybe she'll continue to be patient with you and listen, “That's what made him lose control.”

“Where is the evidence?” the General asked, eyes narrowed. 

“It’s right here.” you handed Tup’s sample back to AZ-3 and the droid hovered over to the Jedi. 

The little robot held up the sample so the togruta could see clearly, “As you can see, the chip taken from clone trooper Tup is black and necrotic, indicating a malfunction of some sort.”

Her lavender eyes roamed over the sample, “What caused the malfunction?” She then turned to you, looking for your expertise. 

“Most likely a genetic mutation.” You answered, “One we can’t possibly predict. It may happen again to another clone,” Your gaze was directly on the General, silently begging her to believe you, “These chips have to be removed, otherwise the entire Republic Army could be compromised.” 

“There is no proof of that. This is an isolated incident.” Nala Se snapped and for once, you thought you could hear panic, “Besides, when you removed trooper Tup's chip, he died.” 

Fives pushed the Kaminoan with his baster, “Well, that's not going to happen to the rest of us.” He snapped, “Because I removed mine.” 

“Here is clone trooper Fives' chip,” AZ-3 held up the second sample, bright pink and healthy, exactly the opposite of Tup’s, “As you can see, there is no sign of malfunction in either him or the chip.”

“And Fives doesn’t have any evidence of neurological symptoms.” You backed-up the surgical robot, “He’s entirely coherent. Still himself. Most likely removing the chip has no drawbacks.” 

Nala Se broke, and once again, you swear you recognized fear coming from her, “By removing your chip, you are a threat,” she turned from the ARC trooper to Shaak Ti, “Master Jedi, we must terminate this trooper immediately.”

Your lover's eyes widened, “I am not a piece of hardware!” he cried, and you could tell the stress had finally gotten to him, “I'm a living being!” He hit the Kaminoan with the blaster again. 

“You were created in our laboratories.” She retorted, glaring down at Fives like he was a pest, “You are Kaminoan property!”

“People aren’t property!” You seethed.

“The Doctor is correct.” The Jedi stepped forward, her words calming the situation instantly, “and he is a trooper of the Republic Army, he is not Kaminoan property.” She spat that last word like it was a vile swear. As if the very idea of calling a living being property sickened her. 

The head scientist addressed the General again, “That does not change the fact that he is a danger and must be terminated.”

Shaak Ti narrowed her eyes. She was unhappy at the very least. Infact, the togruta woman was on guard and tense, “I believe that's for me to decide.” She raised one hand and motioned for your lover to lower his gun, “Fives, you are coming with me to Coruscant. I think it's time you told your story to the Chancellor.”

You let out a relieved breath and smiled, looking at the ARC trooper. He shared your joy, brown eyes bright with both relief and happiness.

Of course, Nala Se argued, “Master Jedi, I beg you to reconsider!”

“The Chancellor wanted all the data on Tup to be sent to Coruscant.” the General stepped towards the both of you, she had a gentle hand on your shoulder, “We're sending the data, the tumor, and these two along with it.”

“Then I am going with you.” The Kaminoan stepped forward.

“No, Doctor Nala Se, that is unneeded.” Shaak Ti immediately shot her down. Before there was an argument, she spoke again, “We have one talented Doctor already.” Her hand squeezed your shoulder and she gave you a small grin, “You will remain here.”

“I can not allow that to happen.” 

“Why?” the togruta turned, facing her, “Is there something about these chips you know that we do not?” 

After a stretch of silence, Nala Se lowered her head, “No, Master Jedi. I am simply concerned about the operations here on Kamino. How this situation will affect us.” 

She’s lying. 

You knew she was lying, but you didn’t know how. So, you remained silent. 

When Shaak Ti turned, Fives spoke up finally, “Thank you for believing in us, General.”

She smirked and looked back, “I will tell you the same thing I told your mesh’la,” The Mando’a word sounded so natural from her lips, “It is not a matter of belief, It is simply the right thing to do.” At her words she faced forward, and began to walk away. 

You grabbed Fives hand, and leaned into him, smiling bright.

He laughed softly before raising a gloved hand to your cheek pulling you into a deep kiss.

[midnightcreator12]

The Splinters and how good of a Dad they are

Why? Because I want to

Also, side note, this is the Splinters from the TMNT stuff I have seen (which is mostly the movies and TV shows). And I won’t be looking at how good of a sensei they are, I’m more interested in how good of a Dad they are.

SO ANYWAY!

First is the 1990 movie with the Jim Henson puppets!

And might as well include the whole trilogy in this because despite the quality dip it’s all the same timeline.

He doesn’t get much screen time in these movies, he spends most of the first one being kidnapped, but when he is interacting with the turtles, it’s actually really sweet.

He makes a point to try and teach them but he always speaks so softly and kindly. They react like he’s lecturing them but he always approaches the turtles in a very open manner.

A highlight of this is when he talks to Raph about his anger management. He mentions how he’s tried to help Raph channel his anger over the years, in a way that sounds like he's saying ‘you’re better than you were before’.

He’s very upfront when they ask him for advice, using the ‘old man stories’ to add onto his point rather than just telling a story and letting the turtles figure it out.

Again, his role in the movies is limited so most of this is assumption but I feel confident in the option that he is a firm but kind father. 7/10

Next, the 1987 Splinter!

This guy should get a prize for how much he just rolls with the punches of life. And one of those, ‘sure, this is fine’ moments is when he suddenly has four mutant turtles to care for. 

He’s a lot more active in the turtles missions than most Splinters, often joining them or coming to their rescue. When the turtles go after the Shredder the first time he quickly jumped to join them. (got kidnapped almost immediately but he tried!)

And something that he does a lot is encourage. Almost every episode he is complimenting his boys, praising their accomplishments and comforting them when they stumble, often teaching them through stories he grew up with in his childhood with his clan.

There is also an early episode where Shredder makes a de-mutating ray and he does not hesitate to destroy it when Shredder tries to use it on the turtles. He clearly prioritizes the turtles, even over his own humanity.

One of the best Dad’s in my option (ironic because the turtles never call him dad and he never calls them his sons) little prone to kidnapping but a good dad. 8/10

Next we have the 2003 Splinter

This Splinter treds the fine line of dad and sensei. When we first meet him he is clearly acting in the role of sensei and more often than not that is how he acts throughout the show. When his sons have problems he often uses cryptic stories and lets them try and figure it out on their own. 

But when this Splinter goes Dad mode, it’s awesome. Best examples are when he forbade the boys from fighting the Shredder the second they told him about the guy, the Ninja Tribunal arc, where he went halfway across the globe and was ready to fight a group of powerful mystic ninja masters because they kidnapped his kids and at the beginning of Back to the Sewers, when he takes a LASER to the chest for his kids without hesitation.

So while he does often portray the role of a strict master, when he sees his kids threatened all bets are off and he will not think twice about jumping into the line of fire. He often calls the turtles ‘son’ but they rarely call him dad, but despite that there is a clear close connection between the five of them.

I am biased because 03 is my fav series but I rate 2003 Splinter as a great dad, maybe just work on the emotional openness in less life threatening situations. 8/10

Next is 2007 Splinter!

(side rant about how the 2007 movie suffers from trying to do way too much in one go and many characters suffer as a result including Splinter)

Okay, let’s get this out of the way real quick, this movie does not make Splinter look good. 

His first mistake was sending Leo away to train. Alone. Without any kind of support system. Something that is consistent in every version of the turtles is that they are very codependent. While it isn’t ideal, a large part of that is by virtue of what they are and how they had to live. And Splinter sent the oldest of the group away.

Second, it’s clear Leo’s absents has fractured the family but we don’t ever see Splinter trying to fix it. There isn’t even insinuations that he’s tried to fix it. He just let his family kinda fall apart.

His one saving grace is his speech to Raph near the end of the movie but that still doesn’t change how hands off he’s been the entire time.

So, if this Splinter IS a good dad, he sadly fell out of the habit as his kids got older. 4/10, TALK TO YOUR KIDS OLD MAN!

Okay, now we have 2012 Splinter!

So, 2012 Splinter has a very strong start in the show. He is very caring towards his turtles, even a bit overprotective. I’m pretty sure the 2012 turtles are the only ones who have NEVER been topside before the show starts(when they were tots doesn’t count since they don’t remember it). He had them on full Lair lockdown when the Shredder comes after them and often fusses over them when they come home after missions gone wrong.

But he sadly suffers from the inconsistent writing common in this version. Despite being the youngest Splinter in the lineup, he hardly ever goes on missions with the turtles and often orders them to go into dangerous situations, more and more often as the show goes on, losing that overprotectiveness until you forget he ever was a helicopter parent.

He clearly loves the turtles but despite the liberal use of calling them his sons, I always felt like there was a disconnect between him and the boys. A proverbial wall that maintains a clear distance between him and them.

This does not mean he doesn’t care, there are a number of times he’s run to rescue the turtles and often actively seeks them out when they’re having issues but out of all the Splinters, he falls pretty hard into the trap of sensei first, father second.

So, yeah, I liked the foundation but I think his overall dad score is a 5/10.

And finally, we have Rise Splinter!

AKA, the reason I made this post.

Because this guy is fundamentally different from every other Splinter. He ran from the tradition of his clan and sought out his own path in being a movie star. Which makes it all the more meaningful that he got these four little babies and just decided, ‘ok, I’m their dad now’

He is definitely the least strict out of all the Splinters, helped by the fact he probably only taught the kids any ninjutsu because they begged him too. We know via flashbacks and the turtles constantly referring to him as Dad that he was pretty active as the boys parent when they were younger.

But by the time the show starts it’s clear he pretty much lets the boys run wild and do what they want within reason. We see throughout the show that he still struggles with his vice of pride and often deflects with humor which can come off as dismissing, but he still loves his kids.

The second he finds out what kinda stuff his boys get up to (fighting Draxum and the looming threat of The Shredder) he drops the over confident actor shtick and starts actually teaching the boys how to be ninjas.

So, not a perfect dad by a long shot, but he’s clearly trying and has the most personal growth out of all the Splinters 8/10

AND THAT’S WHAT I GOT!

Feel free to addon, I’d love to get some more options on this. And have an awesome day!

[study-with-aura]

Thursday, April 18, 2024

Reviews have started for Geometry, and I think I will be starting reviews for my other courses soon too. I am glad to be done with my literary analysis. I could have spent some time tomorrow working on it too as it only had to be complete tomorrow and emailed to my mom, but I did not want to deal with it on a Friday, so I finished it today. I might look over it one more time tomorrow with a set of fresh eyes again before sending it to Mom, but I think it turned out okay.

The bad weather we were supposed to get never occurred today, which was nice. I hate when we have to drive in the rain. People do not know how to drive around here when it is storming or the weather is anything but sun.

Tasks Completed:

Geometry - Geometry Basics review + honors questions

Lit and Comp II - Reviewed Unit 24 vocabulary + read Act 4 Scene 1 of Much Ado About Nothing by William Shakespeare + read modern translation of same scene + typed up a page about about the "pairs" in the play for a 10 minute writing challenge + completed edits and the final draft of my literary analysis for Emma (due tomorrow)

Spanish 2 - Reviewed vocabulary + completed listening practice exercises

Bible I - Read 1 Samuel 21-22

World History - Added WWII information to my timeline + began reviewing my timeline (it's my final project done as a presentation)

Biology with Lab - Microorganisms vocabulary assignment

Foundations - Read more on tolerance + read another article displaying media bias + wrote an analysis of my audience for my persuasive speech (I am using my parents as my audience)

Piano - Practiced for two hours in one hour split sessions

Khan Academy - Completed daily High School Geometry mastery challenge

CLEP - Completed Module 12.2 lecture video + completed Module 12 reading "Europe: 1945 to Present" 14.3

Streaming - Watched Turning Point: The Bomb and the Cold War episode 2

Duolingo - Studied for 15 minutes (Spanish, French, Chinese) + completed daily quests

Reading - Read pages 294-323 of Divine Rivals by Rebecca Ross

Chores - Put away the dishes + took the trash out

Activities of the Day:

Personal Bible Study (Romans 12)

Ballet

Pointe

Journal/Mindfulness

What I’m Grateful for Today:

I am grateful that the storms we were supposed to get today did not come, although it was cloudy.

Quote of the Day:

It's not a crime to feel joy, even when things seem hopeless.

-Divine Rivals, Rebecca Ross

🎧Op. 44, Polonaise in F sharp minor - Frédéric Chopin

[beeatrixi-study]

Week 2 of university done!! It’s been a pretty successful week, with 100% attendance and all caught up with work :)

Things I did this week:

Got my engagement up from partial to good! My lecturer keeps pushing the importance of engagement, and he is pushing it hard. He pretty much says that ‘if your engagement is below good, don’t bother coming to class or trying. You are likely to fail’. I understand that this is true, but the engagement algorithm that the university uses does not consider things like: students living off campus, being ill, downloading material beforehand and not accessing the learning environment, students taking the weekend off, etc. It is very demoralising to see your engagement only being marked as partial, just because its the weekend, and you have the textbook downloaded...

I don’t live on campus, so I don’t get the free points from just being connected to the university WiFi, but when I am on campus, my engagement hits the high level. I am, however, still consistently above average!

My daily planning is very useful! I plan out pretty much every moment of my day, and this week, as a part of my academic skills module, we had to hand in a time log, so I essentially got a free 10% on the module, because I do that anyway. I showed the lecturer to ask if it was acceptable to hand in, and he took a look at my work, safe to say, he was a little shocked. My planning comes across as a little insane, which, I guess, it is! I need a fairly rigid plan, otherwise my brain does not think of tasks as urgent, and will put them off till the last minute. For me, this includes things like: eating, showering, going to the toilet, taking medication, brushing teeth. I require a visual reminder of things (hence the reason I carry my water bottle everywhere, I am very prone to dehydration).

This weeks coding work was pretty easy. We use a language called processing (which is pretty much just Java). All we had to do was copy an image of a house using primitive shapes in the language. Took me about 40 minutes because I literally colour selected the proper colours from the image, and even found the exact co-ordinates. I’ve always found co-ordinates hard, something about them just doesn’t work in my brain, but processing works weirdly; it reverses the Y coordinate. Imagine a four quadrant graph. When faced with a co-ordinate with two positive numbers, you would assume the top right quadrant is where the co-ordinate would fall. But no, in processing it falls in the bottom right. As the Y co-ordinate gets larger, you move downwards...

The computing theory this week was difficult, simply due to the fact of how long the binary numbers were! We had to convert a string of binary sent in hamming code, find the error, and then convert the hamming code to regular UTF-8 binary code, then to UTF-8 hexadecimal code, and then find the character it referred to (which was an obscure Ethiopic symbol, might I add). This left lots of room in copying errors, which happened to me… twice… I got the methods correct, just issues copying down the initial number… My assessed theory problems were much easier, as the numbers ASCII and not Unicode! We have been assured that the binary numbers in the final exam will NOT be Unicode!

In my numerical methods module, we have been working on a quiz for the past 2 weeks, and mine finally got marked! 100% in every problem!! Woo hoo! I’m not so good at maths, but I’m working hard to get the top mark!

Finally, I bought myself some makeup as a congratulations for this week! People who know me from elsewhere will know that I ADORE a clear gloss, so I brought a new tube of my favourite Rimmel Oh My Gloss, and I am trying out some new products: The Revolution Pro Hydra gloss (Shade Mode; clear of course) which, I’m not sure I like, as it is a plumping lip gloss, never really been my thing. The applicator feels strange, and the texture is… unusual. And my new favourite Revolution lip oil (Shade Bitten Kiss; once again, clear)! I adore this oil so much. It’s from their Halloween range, so it looks like a vial of centrifuged blood! I migh have a look if they have other shades next week, and I’ll keep and eye out for the lip tint! I also bought a new Nyx Epic Ink eyeliner, in black of course. I adore the brush applicator, and I think this is my new preferred eyeliner. :)

Go check out my instagram for frequent updates through the week!

[trrickytickle]

Ten-Tickles 🛸

the punchline was “what does it take to make an alien laugh?” but then again, title would get too long. last fic i did for this franchise was so bad (it was pretty much a glorified headcanon list) so i deleted it 💀 Be warned, a lot of these drabbles have the same sort of wafer-thin setup, I just need excuses to write the situations they're in.

Self-indulgent switch Ben+Gwen drabbles I did in between prompts and such. because 1) I’m a 2000s CN kid and 2) I’m trash lmao. Props to my brother for putting up with me for asking him questions about a show I haven’t seen in years and then again it was only bits and pieces of said show. they should have had a tk scene let me live my truth. and yes i've never watched this show in years but i do have a human encyclopedia at my disposal (shoutout again to my poor brobro)

But anyways, oh my DAYS, Ben and Gwen. Still essential parts of EVERY tickle doodle sheet. They were THE ler-leaning switches ever in my day (old hag voice). DEF annoying lers, tk potential THROUGH DA ROOOOF but the shenanigans are better in small doses. footerfeet tickles in ditto + wildvine + greymatter drabbles btw (if u dont like) (OH and in the last drabble as well)

I am NOT familiar at all with any of the story stuff or like 128923 other serieses. All I know is that there's a blue furry now and what my brother tells me (a whole bunch, it's the tism) (same). This is just my brainvomit.  So yeah. These are the small shenanigan doses. 10 drabbles, 10 aliens, that’s the gist.  YEAH IM TRASH SUE ME

Putting the weird gut-wrenching feeling he got after the Omnitrix would power down again aside, Ghostfreak was a fun one. What was not to love about phasing through walls like a peeping Tom and scaring the crap out of little kids? Best part was- Gwen didn’t seem to like him.

This past summer, the Rustbucket had parked its tires down next to many, many art museums, much to Ben’s dismay. The Cleveland Art Museum was no different to him (it was in Ohio, so it was probably worse).  Marble statues and paintings filled a lifeless square with ivory walls as if to compensate for something. Like the art strung up on the walls, it was a tragic sight. Ben gave a loud groan, to which Grandpa Max shushed in response.

“Look, it’s all part of the deal-” he lectured. “We went where you wanted to go-”

“Blehh-bleh-blehh-bleh-bleh-bleh-bleeh..” Ben mocked, just barely brushing past a delicate display.

“Can’t you have some culture, mush-for-brains!?” Gwen snapped. “This place has lots of history behind it!”

They kept walking, stopping to admire piece after piece after piece, and then they just had to read the little information cards on the bottom. Boring.

“Yeah, yeah, history, schmistory. The guy who drew that’s probably dead anyway. Speaking of dead…” Slamming the dial on a spooky silhouette, Ghostfreak floated up with a chill in the frigid air. 

 "Boo!" he joked, startling Gwen (and everyone else in the museum) with a jolt. She scowled, glaring daggers into Ghostfreak's single pupil.

“What? This place is practically a ghost town already.” Another glare from the ginger. “Tough crowd, I guess.”  Ghostfreak phased through a few statues and peeled off its skin to scare onlookers, then went back to bother Gwen again.

“Heeeeeyyy…” 

"What.” Gwen snapped, turning around from her view of a sculpture. The alien dove through her torso, phasing through and quite literally getting inside her head, possessing her and stringing her hands around like a disorganized puppeteer.

"Stop tickling yourself." Ghostfreak rasped. Out of her control, Gwen's own hands danced around her tummy. Her possessed body struggled to keep from breaking out in a laughing fit, snickering, snorting and gritting her teeth.

"NGH-gh-hh-heh.." Gwen grunted, contorting her twisting smile into a grimace. Her own arms still moved unwillingly around her sides, and Ghostfreak's teasing whispers rang through her own corporal body.

"Stop tickling yourself. Stop tickling yourself. Stooop tickling yourself~" Her cousin's nagging voice surrounded Gwen's thoughts louder than usual, and if that wasn't bad enough, her own fingers involuntarily dug their way into her ribs, and along the hallowing halls reverberated her shrill, loud shriek.

'Hehehe-haha-hYIEEEEK!! Youhohou're such a dweeb!!" Through laughter, her own hands squeesed their way down her sides.

Ghostfreak phased out of her, laughing in a strange demented manner. Scowling, Gwen and Grandpa Max were dragged out of the building whilst Ben floated behind, gloating.

Well, this wasn't the first place they were kicked out of.

The Plumber base was cool at first. The secret entrance was cool. The alien ray-guns were cool. Even the prospect of plain old Grandpa kicking butt for a living was cool. As visits became more frequent, the wow-factor dulled. Grandpa Max would almost always be off discussing confidential matters, and Ben and Gwen would be left to their own devices under the vague condition of "don't touch anything", and more often than not, Ben would run into a room he wasn't allowed in while Gwen ran after him, and such was the case. A monitor twice the size of a movie screen fell before the cousins' eyes, with a keyboard thrice as wide to boot.

"Too many failed login attempts. Try again in fifteen minutes!?" Ben groaned. "You'd think we'd be allowed to test some of this stuff out.."

"What part of "don't touch anything" do you not understand, bozo?" Gwen retorted.

"Relax, it's not like he'll notice.." Ben shrugged in response, fingers wriggling over the cluttered keyboard. Before he could lay a finger on it, Gwen held him up by the back of his shirt.

"Hey! Do I look like I want Grandpa to kill us?"

Writhing, Ben looked down, turning the Omnitrix dial and slamming it, resulting in a mass of neon-streaked ferrofluid coagulating into his technological form. Upgrade slithered its way out of Gwen's reach and enveloped the screen, and Ben was interlinked to the monitor.

"Wo-ho-hoah! Look at all these! I don't even know what to name all of them!" Upgrade chirped, putty-like head popping out of the monitor. Slides of alien data files popped up in duochromatic green and black. Gwen groaned in frustration and scoured the keyboard for some sort of power down switch.

"Come on, come on! The Plumbers should know where to put a dang off button!" Disgruntled, Gwen's fingers closed as many tabs as her cousin could open. Ben felt jolts of static zapping at his mechanical form. For every press on the unnecessarily complicated contraption, the little zaps would grow increasingly inconvenient. And they tickled. Bad. Upgrade thrashed, threatening to jump out of the screen.

"-ngh- Would you stop -ugh- bothering me? I'm trying to get us- YOU out of trouble!" Gwen dodged the assault of his synthetic limbs while resuming her attempt to shut the device off.

"Hehe-heh-hey! I'm nohot trying to, you're tickling me!" Upgrade jittered. There was an eager glint in Gwen's eyes which made him regret his choice of words. Like a pianist, she cracked her knuckles, wiggling her fingers before the keys.

"Oh yeah? How's this for tickling? How about this?" Gwen pressed a crescendo of keys in a sadistic cacophony in a quick, succeeding fashion. Her fingers precisely clicked away from the top row all across the bottom. Upgrade's putty-like construct could barely constrict, only jutting outwards as each shockwave coursed through his synthetic body.

"G-gh-HA-HA-heh-HAHA-hah-heh-ha-HAHAHAHAHA! Quihihit it, lame-brain! Stohop, stohoho-hop! Ihi-hihi'm beheh-hehe-gging you!"

"Nope. Serves you right!" Gwen continued, smirking in sadistic glee at her newfound knowledge. Her hands criss-crossed across the board, aiming for certain nooks and crannies (the space bar was especially bad), laughing along with the Mechamorph.

As what was left of ten minutes ticked away, the clicking of keys grew louder and faster, and Upgrade's chippery laughter rang through the hallowed halls of the Plumber base.

It wasn’t fair. No matter how many games of license plate bingo Ben betted it on, it was always Gwen who got to sit and soak up the AC in the front seat. It was torture, seeing her kick back, a gloating grin square on her face when she looked back at the shaky, sizzling back seat- and desperate times like this called for desperate measures. Annoying ones. Wandering his way down the matted carpet of the Rustbucket on his tiptoes, Ben crept up at his cousin and goosed her in the sides with an evil glint in his eyes.

“Poke.”

A squeal! made Grandpa look back from the steering wheel and groan dejectedly. Gwen scowled, gritting her teeth.

“Rrrr!  Why do you have to be such a- EEEEE!!” A plethora of pokes followed from her sides up to her ribs, along with occasional digs at her armpits- that is if they weren’t slammed shut in preparation for imminent attack.

“Gr-Grandpa! He’s being annoying!” To no avail, Grandpa Max kept on driving, trying to shut out her high pitched laughter.

“I’m only stopping if you’ll let me sit up front..” Ben retorted obnoxiously. “Poooooke- OW!” Gwen flicked him on the index finger in response, giggling smugly. He attempted to reach in numerous times afterwards, but each one would be deflected by Gwen’s hand.

“Nice try, doofus! That won’t work on me!” she stated, hands on hips. It was desperate times like now which called for desperate measures. Knowing Ben, he wouldn’t back down from a challenge, and when Gwen heard the dial-turn of the Omnitrix, it spelled trouble.

“But this might!” Four-Arms’ booming, baritone voice growled. His massive size bent him double against the roof of the RV, which only made Gwen closer to (two) arms’ reach.

“Don’t. Even. Think. About. It.”

But think about it he did. Gwen’s wrists were grasped by Ben’s single muscle-bound alien arm, lifting her up, and his other three were prodding away while she squirmed at the hands of the squatting extraterrestrial.

"Hihihehehehehe-AH-haha! Puhuhut me dohohown!" She bucked, instinctively kicking the window so hard the air freshener swung like a pendulum. Grandpa Max lifted one hand off the steering wheel to facepalm and rub his temples. Kids.

"Surrender the front seat!"

"Or whahahat, you slimeba-ha-hall!?"

"Or I'm amping it up!" Halting the stabbing jabs, Four-Arms lifted Gwen's legs up, receiving full access to her torso. Her long-sleeved tee was pulled to reveal her midsection, which his brawny lower hands then toyed with like an organ. "So, about that front seat.. Ready for it to be mine now? Huh??.." " ..Huh? Aw, MAN!" Like it was fate, the Omnitrix timed out in a flash of red, and Ben was met with a stern Grandpa-glare.

Why'd she always have to win?

"Kk-ggh-HA-HA! That's unfahair! G-Gwen, you're che-hee-HEA-ting!" 

"Hah-how is it chehe-heating if- -ngh- I'm nohot letting you cheat!?" 

The plasticine squeak of chafing against polyester was frequent as gunfire in the warzone that was the Rustbucket and laughter filled summer air like mustard gas- an all-out tickle tussle had arose in the midst of a stop for gas and supplies. Gwen had the upper hand, as Ben had slid off onto the carpet from her dirty tactic of holding up his left hand (conveniently also his cool alien watch-wielding hand) and targeting his armpit. Hypocritically, she reached over for her spellbook,  leaning over on the booth seat as her cousin floundered on the carpet, and she had let go, unaware, only to look back at a flash of neon green. Ditto emerged, splitting into one- then two- then three. 

"Uh-ooooh, looks like somebody's outnumbered!" One chatty clone piped while the other snuck up behind her back, putting its arms above Gwen's shoulders and mercilessly targeting her tummy. The other two, however, grabbed her ankles and tossed her shoes off and gave each other the same shit-eating knowing smirk, cartoonishly wiggling their free fingers. 

"Hah-hehe-HA-ha-HA! Ahaha-ha-quit it, quit it, qui-hih-hi-hit it!" Gwen repeated, giggling.

"Raspberry on three?" the Ditto at her left foot remarked, the rest nodding. 

"Three.. two.." 

"One!" Gwen yelled, squeezing the Ditto behind her's side. All three yelped in unison, and the smile on her face shifted to one involuntary to a knowing grin. Smirking, she pinned the clone down, pursing her lips and leaning in for a satisfyingly sloppy raspberry, then  another, and then another. All three laughed hysterically, swatting at air. 

"guh-HA-HAHA-AHAHAHA-HA!! Stoppit! P-puh-PLEEASE!" 

"Hah-HA-Ha-HAHA-Haha-have MERCY!!" 

"Nnnnghh-HHHAHA-HA!! It TICKLES!!" 

"Not 'till lunch, dwe- ACK!" Gwen called back as the Omnitrix timed out, only to be greeted with a pounce by her now-human cousin, his fingers threateningly spidering over her. "Don't even! B-Be-hehe-hen!"

Typically, Gwen wasn't one to boast. It was mainly Ben's antics that kept her humble during the road trip. Today seemed to be a rather obnoxious exception- she'd just grasped a spell, and used it every chance she got. Throughout this long summer day, cries of "Reanima Verdanica!" irritated Ben and to an extent, Grandpa Max to no end as flowers bloomed wherever she went.

"Alright, alright! I get it! You can make a few posies and pansies, what's the big deal!?" Ben whined. No response. Thinking the campsite they were parked at could use a little sprucing up, wildflowers sprouted from the mana on Gwen's hands onto the ground. Flowers that were tenfold their original size were visible from the sun-faded windows. Ben slumped onto the dinette table, rolling his eyes, when not long after he decided to take matters into his own hands.

"A little Wildvine'll show her who's boss!" Evergreen now surrounded the inside of the vehicle in a flash of light.  Ben, in Wildvine's form, slithered out the door and snuck up behind his cousin.

"Reanima...verdanicAAHHH! What is WITH you, freakazoid!?" 

"Hah! How's this for a plant?" Wildvine growled. "Betcha flowers can't do this!" Extending like a jumper cable, a tendril from his left hand extended, grabbing Gwen by her legs. Upside-down, the spellcaster struggled in her surprisingly strong bonds. Her spellbook fell to the floor with an underwhelming thud.

"Grrrr! Let me down, or-"

"Or what? You're gonna make me a flower crown?" He gloated. Wildvine's tuberous face shifted into a smirk, and from his sides, he conjured three sets of rakelike vines- two of which wormed into Gwen's armpits, the other pair slowly skittered against her ribs and tummy, and, to her relief, the last pair laid still against his roots. His methods were slow, but boy, were they evil.

"Ngh-hehe-gGGGGH! Reanima-haha... Verda-HA! Reanima Ver-daha-HAnicA! Ngh.. STUPID spell!" Continually, Gwen attempted to say the spell straight-faced, but humiliating giggles would slip out in between her attempt to resist. Not even weeds would grow from the ground. 

"Payback, princess!" Wildvine rasped, the last set of arms shot up and the left arm grabbed hold of her left foot, whilst the right took off her shoe and began to scribble and shuffle against her sole in quick succession. The other vines followed suit, speeding up.

"Ugh! Reanima-HA-HAHAHAHA! Eeee-ya-hehehe-HAHAHA! You are so-hoho getting it when I'm out of here!"

She'd keep that promise and keep it well.

(oh ma JESUS i had to do research (ick) to get this one to work, i'm also a dog person if you couldn't tell)

Most people associated summer with sweltering heat and running through sprinklers. Most people, however, would not associate it with a life-or-death journey to retrieve lost alien DNA samples across the galaxy on a spaceship. Half the Omnitrix's rogue's gallery had been magically corrupted in a battle with Hex, giving Ben limited access to its library. 

It wasn't as grueling as the past battle against Vilgax- the aliens scanned in the past had offered themselves up again without a fight- but Wildmutt's sample was different. Its home planet Vulpin also housed heaps of malignant radioactive waste, so Tetrax, the crystalized mercenary, took matters into his own hands and brought it onto the ship. Flighty, feral and difficult to control, it was hard to ease. 

"Now, no sudden movements.." Tetrax husked. "Just touch and scan." 

"Aw, yeah! Just one left and it's hero time!" Ben boasted. To prevent further damage, the Vulpimancer was surrounded by a ring of creeping green crystal. 

"Nice doggy.. good doggy.." Gwen attempted to reason. The alien responded, eagerly lapping her face and showering it in thick drool. "Ugh! Gross!" Sniffing the air, the canid alien inched toward the two human children. It snarled, then with a series of curious pants, leapt at Ben. 

"Yeesh. Talk about a sudden movement." Gwen chided. The Omnitrix-bearer was nervous- its sharp teeth and cud-like drool was an inch to his face. Tetrax and Gwen flinched. Ben knew Wildmutt, and he knew him well- this beast could maul him at any second. 

What came instead was much less lethal- the alien's panting changed to that of excitement, and nuzzling against the fabric of Ben's shirt, it started to sniff him, the gusts of hot air blowing against his tummy. 

"Nnghh! Gh-hh-Ahah-Hh--" 

Gritting his teeth, it didn't take long before he'd burst into loud, embarrassing laughter. 

"AH-hah-ha-ha-HAHA! Hehe-haha- Te-hetrax! Make him stohohop!" 

Tetrax stood, smiling innocently. Boyish laughter urged the Vulpimancer to lean in closer and pepper Ben with slobbering dog-kisses, much to Gwen's delight- this was perfect blackmail material. 

"Aw, who's a good boy? Whooo's a good boy? Who loves torturing my doofus cousin? You do, ooooooh, yes, you do!" Gwen cooed, teasing Ben with wriggly fingers. 

"Gaha-guh-Gwen! J-Juhust ge-heh-het Wildmutt offa mehe-hehe!" 

"What's that? The doofus says he likes it?" She chided. 

"Now, now, don't tease him too much. Scanning mode will trigger soon." Tetrax responded, ceasing playing dumb. 

Ben bucked, as the Vulpimancer's head wormed its way into his armpit, instinctively causing him to conk it on its skull with the Omnitrix. The watch glowed a dim orange as a robotic voice reverbrated-

 "Scanning mode engaged." Finally. Both Tetrax and Gwen helped the mushy, giggly puddle on the floor which was Ben Tennyson up. Panting in relief, the tingly, shaggy sensation passed. The Omnitrix was complete, and it was safe travels back from here- safe, long, travels where Gwen wouldn't let him live this down.  

(this picture looks really stupid HAHA)

Despite the wide range of useful alien heroes in the Omnitrix, it was no secret that Ben had a clear bias towards Four-Arms- what more could you want? Heck, the guy was hulked out, with four knuckle sandwiches at the ready- and his strength could fare useful for any situation.. especially annoying Gwen. The cousins were tasked to work together on setting up camp, and knowing them, things would only take a turn for the worse. Littered across the campsite were pinewood not yet built into a campfire and tents left unpitched- all because the two were too busy squabbling. 

"...What part of "pitch a tent" do you not understand, bonehead!?" Gwen nagged, hands on hips. 

"Grandpa said that was your job! Remind me who helped gather the firewood earlier?" 

"Four-Arms." she chided. "It's not fair! You get to go hero and I've gotta do everything myself!" Just as fate had intended, the Omnitrix sparked green once again, and Ben gave a mischievous grin, making the redhead want to swallow her words. 

"Oh, I'll have fun showing you what else he can do!" He wiggled his fingers, pressing the watch dial down. In a flash of quick metamorphosis, the boy emerged as- 

"CANNONBOLT!?"  

"Hah! Please. Like that thing can pitch a tent." 

Ben, disappointed with the form he had taken, looked down at his radish-like feet, then back up at his armor plated shoulders- then his fluffy claws... and a devious idea hatched in his spherical head. Grabbing Gwen, Cannonbolt curled up halfway, and though she couldn't see it through her predicament, there was a wide, fanged smirk across his face. 

"AH!! Whatever you're doing, don't even-" 

"Too late! Tickle-tickle tickle tickle-tickle.." His four-pronged claws wormed their way into Gwen's shirt, scribbling and squeezing against her sides while their unbearable fur fluffed against her midsection. Her tummy jerked around as she writhed and threw her head back. 

"Ggg-rr-HHH!!-Hh-HAHAHA-hahahEEEEK! Eeee- Sss-HH-Stoppit! Put me dOHOWN!" 

"Hmm... no. Unless.." Laying on his plated shell, Cannonbolt remained nonchalant as Gwen squealed, cackled and bargained. He upped the ante, lightly tracing over her navel and going over her shirt to poke at every individual rib while she was held snug in a bear-hug. "You let me go hero." 

"Nnnnn-NEHE-Never!" Fighting the press of its claws, Gwen put up a fight- only urging Ben to further egg her on. Bad idea. 

"Well, in that case..." A barrage of quick, spiderlike claw-movements were skidding and skittering around Gwen's tummy. The pine forest clearing around them were as much as a wreck for once, and a familiar voice boomed from within the trees louder than her laughter. 

"Benjamin. Kirby. Tennyson." Grandpa Max scolded. Gwen and Cannonbolt stood like deer in headlights, darting their eyes along the mangled campsite. At least there was someone who could keep Ben in check.

Nothing in the Rustbucket worked like it was supposed to. Flushing the toilet was a three-man effort, the oven would start sparking when the stove was on, and most inconveniently, opening the fridge cut the air conditioning- which was left running as the Tennysons trekked back from a strenuous hike at the Grand Canyon, and to their dismay, Ben and Gwen were greeted by a snail trail of melted ice-cream stretching from the faulty fridge.

“Aw, man! That was our only real food!” Ben whined, wiping his brow, standing at the puddle like it was blood at a crime scene. Gwen stood next to him, equally distraught, as the chunks of cookies and cream barely reached their shoes.

“Yeah, if only SOMEONE didn't leave the AC on!” she snapped.

"Oh, that's an easy fix. A little Grey Matter'll work wonders!” The tiny trooper jumped up onto the kitchenette’s counter, over the stove and made a springy leap up to the top of the fridge and launched himself toward the dusty air vent. Incessantly technobabbling to himself, Gwen looked up with a little too much faith in him. 

"You know, I think this is one of the only good ideas you've had all summer.." 

Grey Matter crawled, slimy hands soldering wires to the best of its abilities. Almost there. Wiping out gunk from crevices without breaking a sweat, his sagacity was paying off well.

“I think it’s working!” exclaimed Gwen, a moment too soon.

“Just a clean around the filter, and..” Red light creeped through the vent as a low jitter signaled the Omnitrix’s cooldown. There was a thud- and Ben’s lower half stuck out through the roof, leaving the air conditioner in worse condition. 

"-Unf! Oooowww!!" 

Stuck in the vent from his shoulders up, he could do nothing but kick and flail- as Gwen erupted in mocking laughter. 

"Hey, hey! Help! Seriously! Stop laughing and let me down! Ugh, I'm telling on you!" Ben whined and kicked at Gwen's face, unaware. 

"Oh, I'll help you down, alright.." Her smug smirk, one of pure, unadulterated childlike mischief, was out of sight, which left Ben oblivious to the assault that was to come. Yanking his shoes off with a struggle, and swiftly, her shifting fingers swooped along his socked feet.  This was so worth losing an entire tub of ice cream.

"WAIT!!- Nnng- heh-HUH-hahaha-Whahaha-what gi-HI-hihives!?" 

"I'm just helping you down, what's with the attitude? Do you want to spend the rest of summer vacation with your head up a vent like an ostrich!?" Gwen played dumb, almost-reluctantly sliding off Ben's left sock, nimble fingers flossing through toes, ringing unrelenting laughter. 

"Ggh-HAH-haha-HA!! Stohop making f-huhun of me!" With each trace at the arch and dig at the toes, his face flushed from above. Gripping desperately onto the roof, he thrashed, threatening to crash on the carpet. 

"I bet there's a spell in here somewhere.." pondered Gwen. 

"nn-NNN-PLEAHASENO!" In fear of the mere suggestion, Ben fell facefirst into the confection on the carpet. Holding back giggles, Gwen walked away as he grumbled. 

They wouldn't be getting any cool air for days.

"G-AAAAAAH!!" 

A failed leap of faith sent Gwen, donning the Lucky Girl mask, careening down the Seattle Space Needle hopelessly, just barely escaping Charmcaster and her bag of tricks. Her own hero exploits were as infrequent as they were dangerous- which was why, for safety's sake, she would be frequently accompanied by Ben.

"huh-huh-Phew..-whoo-.." 

As her arms flailed in an ostrichlike attempt in flight, Stinkfly's gangly hands had grabbed her mid-air, a light buzz coming from his insectoid wings. Gwen was safe and sound- but his putrid smell couldn't escape her. 

"I really saved your butt there, didn't I?" his phlegmy voice reverbrated, Charmcaster's flying golems hot on their trail. They weren't any trouble- they were easily apprehended by the goop from his eyestalks. 

"Yeah, but you really didn't need to smell like one! Now, hurry!" As they lost the evil enchantress, Gwen sassed and the duo flew toward the Rustbucket. Manoeuvreing over buildings with beating wings and showing off to onlookers, Ben was taking his sweet time for someone she told to hurry.

Gwen rolled her eyes. "What part of hurry don't you under-ST-eEK! " With a mischievous smirk, Stinkfly's legs reached over to poke at Gwen's middle- exposed from the wind blowing against her costume. Letting go of one arm, its brittle claw wormed (insect pun) into her armpit.

 "Ahaha-HA! Y-yooo-you-hoo-hoo STINK!" she bucked. 

"I know!" Keeping it up, two legs squeezed at the midriff like dough, while another set prodded at her ribs. "Not so lucky, are you now? Are you?" Even in a repulsive form, Ben still couldn't help but boast. 

"Ghh-AHAHA-Heh-sto-STAHAHAP!" Gwen cackled. Fortunately, he heeded her demand- but only when they noticed Charmcaster, brandishing her magical bag behind them. Glowing red, the Omnitrix cooled down. Trouble. 

"Looks like Lucky Girl has a weakness!.." she cooed. "And, oh, would you look at that! I have just the thing.." As wriggly, teasing stone hands flew towards Gwen, she couldn't help but grumble under her breath. Cousins.

(I ran out of "good" aliens.)

(also Gwendolyn's design is just so fucking good I literally love it for reasons I can't explain)

Another time adventure was the perfect opportunity to whisk Ben and Gwen away from a lunch of fried grasshoppers. Though their presence would cause many, many timeline discrepancies, they were the key to thwarting a major anomaly in Ben 10,000's way ..but their importance wouldn't stop the two from running amok in his headquarters. The two marveled at their own accomplishments, their egoes only expanding in the process. 

"Woah! I get to learn more spells?" Gwen leafed through collections of magical runes, unusually eager. A slew of scrolls rolled off onto the metallic floor making a mess. "And that's my black belt!" 

"Another hoverboard? Oh-ho-HO, check it out!" Pushing buttons and flipping switches they shouldn't have, the cousins made a mess of the tall tower- and it wasn't long before their future selves stepped up from the elevator doors, glaring dourly. 

"What have we told you two about not touching anything?" reprimanded the older Ben. "That was a present from New Petropia!" 

"You too, Gwen." Gwendolyn deadpanned. "You know, I'd think us- you out of all people would know better." 

"Ugh, jeez! Guess you're still no fun.." The ten-year-old Ben rolled his eyes, blowing a raspberry at his elder- who exchanged a sly, knowing smirk with Gwendolyn.

"Well, we do know a thing or two about fun..." In the blink of an eye, Future-Ben went Four-Arms, holding his younger self up by the wrists with his first pair of arms. Gwendolyn straddled the latter cousin's legs with a wry smile. 

"Consider this revenge." she teased, baring her long nails at Gwen, tracing, scribbling and spidering over her sides. Four-Arms, bigger and more rugged than he was in the past, dug into Ben's ribcage and armpits, just harsh enough to be unbearably soft. 

"Wha-What are you- Wait! No! We're really so-HORRY! Ah! Haha-hah-heh-HA!" Gwen pleaded through laughter, throwing her head back as her older self dug into her armpits while she thrashed with every touch. 

"Ple-HEASE! I'm -huh- not gonna-ha-ha- touch yo-hour stuff! You're gonna KI-HEHE-HILL ME!" 

"No use bargaining, shrimp." Changing form, a (new!) agile simian alien emerged and webbed Ben up. "I call him Spidermonkey." Its tail yanked his shoes off, and eight fluffy fingers spidered over his soles. Hitting the floor, he thrashed in silky bonds as one of many new forms exploited weaknesses that he himself knew better than anyone. 

"Just s-huh-SE-hehend us to the Null Vo-hoi-d ahat thi-his point!" 

"We're just getting started! I've got 9,998 heroes left!" 

"You know, Gwen.. great point earlier. I did get to learn more spells. Esthesio Pluma!" The younger redhead gulped, preparing for the worst. Fluffy feathers descended out of nowhere, flitting and floating at the flick of Gwendolyn's wrist. They ghosted over her stomach, telekinetically flying into her shirt to fluff at her belly button. The other plumes brushed over her neck in slow methodical fashion, and into her armpits. 

"AH-hehe-HEH-hehehe! Lemme GO-hoho! You've behehe-heen through this!" Gwen reasoned, attempting to swat away the feathers, curling up into a kicky ball. 

"Should we let up?" Nonchalantly, the older Ben rasped whilst running around in XLR8's form, waggling his tail quickly over his younger self's stomach while his claws targeted multiple spots simultaneously.  

"We don't want us to suffer forever.." Gwendolyn assured, relinquishing control of the floating feathers. As quickly as he started, XLR8 stopped, reverting back into Ben. The past-cousins had a moment to catch their winded breath before getting back on their feet. 

"-huff- I'll get me back someday.. Maybe.. now!" Just as Ben was about to slam his watch, his future self poked him on the stomach. "-y-IEEK!" 

"If you tried, we'd know." she jeered. 

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and that's the end of that! damn, that last one was long. back to requests!