#I hate doing fractions in maths class

[isthatachonnyjashreference]

Mathematical Fractions are a Chonny Jash reference

It's a Chonny Jash reference

[babextoken]

Slow like Mold in the Vents in the Wall

✧・┈・chapter 1

pairing: vessel x fem!reader summary:  you're running from something (and your) and find yourself as the lone girl on staff at one of the few video rental stores left in the area. everyone sees you as good coworker, if not a bit of a wallflower, expect for one. Ves sees right through your mask. And you hate him for it. wc: 1.9k head's up: series, slowish burn, enemies to lovers, coworkers, plus size reader, nerd!vessel, rude!vessel, hitting on people at work, reader and ves are a bit unlikable, slightly jealous!vessel, gatekeeping, Taylor Swift slander (it was for the plot, I'm not interested in entertaining this), tragic reader backstory, idiots who aren't in love YET a/n: I am both terrified and excited to share this. it's a mix of requests, my own thoughts, and my own ways of working through things while keeping that boy in a situation ♡ 𓈒⟡₊⋆∘˚⊹ Situation Enjoyers™: @lifemod17 @glitterghost @inv3ga-sustenna @adenobabe  @jeriiicho @milk--bones  @myaudiocommentary  @horsebiologist @intake-of-breath @fruitsandcheese @killed-by-thegods @goosepond69 @friendly-neighborhood-ghoul @lynzeequitlollygagging @thatxxjiyong-ssi  @cloudy-soul @daddysaidbringthethunder  @evisnotok @cheomain @chaosandchaos @object-of-my-desire @dreamer-lost-in-wonderland @blvckmvgicwoman @canopies-of-gold-and-evergreen

recommended listening:

Vessel’s talking again. About nerd shit. Always with the nerd shit.

It started as a chat about video games. Sure, fine. Then it became video game soundtracks. Bit out there for some, ok. But then it veered to music. The question is posed, again, (because most zone out) about what kind of music Ves likes and makes on the side. But it only got worse. Everyone saw the change happen in slow motion; Vessel’s brows shot up, his dimples deepened, the normally soft spoken, stoic demeanor he had turned almost frantic. The music theory professor was in…and all because a sweet plump little thing beside him piped up saying, “An 11/8 time signature? That’s not even a real fraction!” 

Vessel didn’t know you yet. He saw you come in for your interview and onboarding but didn’t bother to approach you. Welcome you to the video store. At first he thinks you’re fucking with him. Busting his balls for the time signature thing, but you’re persistent. 

“No, seriously, how would that even sound? Come on, explain like we’re back in music class.”

The sheer glee radiating off this man could power a small country. He takes on a matter-of-fact but kind tone as he claps out the beats and explains what one could accomplish with such an interesting and complex and… It all fades out. You’re listening, yes, but you’re not retaining. The fact that you watched him go from a quiet participant in this little conversation you were cornered in to someone who was confident and expressive was, honestly, really hot. He’s tall enough that you have to lift your head a bit to look him in the eye, making you feel a bit like you’re being lectured. Guided. If the thought-police are real, they should put you away now because this is…really fucking hot. 

But Ves is none the wiser. He’s now moved on to name dropping bands that excel at weird time signatures and that even though math rock and progressive metal both utilize it they’re actually, in essence, quite different and that—

“You know, honestly,” you look around and whisper almost conspiratorially, “I don’t know any of the bands you just mentioned but—”

Vessel interrupts you, as nerdy boys on a roll are want to do. “Well, yes, that’s to be expected, but just because they—“

You raise your chin and your hand to stop him. “Hold on, I wasn’t done.” His face falls. Damnit. He’s done it again. He’s info-dumped too close to the sun to a new coworker, much less a GIRL. “I was going to say that maybe you could help me…expand my musical horizons,” you say with a tiny smirk. 

“Right! Right, yeah! Pull up your Spotify then and I’ll add some stuff for you.”

Years of being rejected allowed you to mask your disappointment. You shouldn’t be looking for a date at work and especially not at your brand new job. What you don’t realize is that Ves is masking, too. He won’t even give himself the chance to IMAGINE you’re dropping hints about a date. Instead of asking for clarification or, god forbid, explaining yourself further, you sheepishly take your phone out and let him start saving playlists and albums to your library. He hands your phone back, looking smug. 

“There we are…a much needed upgrade. Looks like you needed it…'This is Taylor Swift.’ Come now,” Vessel titters. “Listen to something that pushes the envelope.”

“Hah. Wow, alright.” You scoff with a humorless laugh. 

Oh. 

Cringe. 

Goddamnit. 

Vessel barely realizes now his sarcasm was NOT detected at all. He chuckles nervously and pats your shoulder. “Lighten up. Joking. I’m joking.”

“I actually meant we should spend some time together,” there’s a subtle emphasis on the phrase as your eyes roll back in exasperation, “and talk about it more. Get to know each other. Seems like we dodged a bullet then, hm?” 

Vessel stands there for a bit. Why did she want to wait until another time to talk about this?  Surely she’s just saying this because it’s like when you see an old friend and say “let’s get coffee” and then you never do and…wait. WAIT. “Do you…surely you don’t mean a…a date!” Vessel’s cheeks are stained maroon now from the sheer thought of a DATE. “This really did it for you? Hearing me drone on?”

Your face scrunches as if to say “dude, yes, obviously,” because to you it is obvious. Why not him? Yeah you just met him (and you’re at work. Please do not forget you’re at work) and he seemed fairly safe and nice, but maybe a bit of a gatekeeper-type? Or just a sarcastic jerk. All you know is that now you’re turned off a little. And Vessel’s just gawps at you. Thank god everyone else left to do closing duties when it was clear you two were having a one-on-one. No one needed to see you taking a joke too seriously and Vessel dropping the ball and probably missing out on one of those “for the plot” opportunities. It’s awkward now. Both of you had questionable dating history so no one really knows how to gracefully end the conversation (or have one, it seemed). And maybe you’ve got the right idea by just nodding and pursing your lips saying, “well…good talk,” and walking away to choose some tapes for your Staff Recommendations. 

Thus began the "Great Ignoring." It wasn’t to the point that you called in sick when you knew you were working with him, but you certainly felt a pit in your stomach. But you kept your head down and just worked. That’s why you were here. To start over. And do "The Work," as they say. 

It wasn’t like you wanted to be sent away last year when this big adventure started. Well, “sent away” was an overreaction (or at least that’s what you were told. Must be true then, yes?). You were “encouraged to seriously consider” taking time off and “enjoying a break.” And when paired with a queasy smile, it translated both literally and perfectly into “get yourself together, bitch, and do it far away. Come back when you’re normal.”

Fine. Like a child sent to her room, you huffed and pouted as you planned your mini vacation that instead turned into you completely upending your life a county over. No big deal! But beginnings are overrated. Finally getting some distance between a certain ex-boyfriend and a life you were comfortable with does not evoke feelings of “fresh starts.” It’s a death within and of itself. The physical move was easy. You didn’t own much. Such is the nature of breaking off an engagement that was over long before you even left. Long before the first emotional blow was struck. Family and friends offered more than you thought you deserved—money, secondhand furniture, food, the number of “a guy.” It was too much for you. The kindness didn’t cancel out any of the cruelty, and the small cruelties were magnified. 

Vessel gatekeeping “superior” music should have been the equivalent of a gnat in your general vicinity. You know it’s there, it’s not bothering you immediately, but when it does you can wave it off. No. For you it was worse. It was coming home knowing mom was mad at you. It was facing the tribunal. Or at least that’s how it felt. Normally he just ignored you, which gave you great comfort and dread. Comfort because “ok, he has no reason to bother me,” and dread because “ah shit the other shoe is about to drop and it’s gonna fucking suuuucckk.” 

“Hey are you listening?”

Fingers snapping drags you out of your haze. 

“Jesus. Come on, please tell me you actually sorted the new releases." Vessel, looking tired as usual, leans against the counter with his arms crossed and waits with bated breath for your answer. It was the dreaded closing shift with him. 

You return his tired gaze with a blank one, proffering your hand towards the fully stocked end cap boasting “New Releases? More like New Favourites!” 

The heaviest sigh comes out as he throws his head back, exposing his neck. You’d been here only a month but you were already keenly aware of Vessel’s body. You’d seen him do this multiple times a week. When a customer was difficult. When the regional manager had some asinine quota. When you…well…existed? But that got you acquainted with the delicate column of his throat. The strength of the sides sloping into his traps. Despite him icing you out, he was still hot.

“Yes, V. It’s stocked.”

“S’all you had to say. Taking my 15. Cheers.”

“Hey, on your way out can you take out th—“ but he’s already gone, “…trash?” You sigh heavily. “Fucker.” 

Not two minutes later, a lone guy comes in. He gives you a polite wave when you welcome him in, seems nice enough. Probably the kind of guy who knows exactly what he wants, he’ll pay, and that’s it. But he lingers for a bit at the Staff Recs with a big grin. He picks up one of yours, the third of a wacky but popular horror franchise. 

“This one yours?” He asks with a quirked up grin. 

You laugh softly and do a little bow. “That it is. And I’m not going to apologize for it.”

“Oh you shouldn’t.” He shakes the box as he refers to the movie saying, “this subverts tropes as much as it regurgitates. People should apologize for shitting on it!”

“Exxaaccccttttlllyyyy,” you exclaim. 

Finally. Someone who matches wits. You enjoy an animated conversation with about the franchise, the rumored reboots, other franchises…it’s refreshing. You barely realize Ves has come back from his break. He squeezes by you at the register mumbling, “lucky there isn’t a line right now.” But you ignore it. You have a handle on this. As you’re finally ringing up the guy, he mentions a series he thinks you might enjoy. And when you tell him you’d never heard about it before he gives you a smirk and leans forward as he takes his receipt.

“Maybe we should get together sometime…could get the box set. Takeaway even?” He winks. “Be seeing you.” He does a quick nod behind you, and you realize it was to Vessel, who was sulking in the corner of the little checkout boat.

“Oohhh let’s get together and talk about it…you’ll have to tell me all about it…I don’t know aaaannnnyythiing about anything,” he mocks. “You get off on that, don’t you?”

“What? Stimulating conversation about media? Yeah. It’s my kink.”

“Smart ass. No! Playing dumb.”

If looks could kill. But Vessel doesn’t care. He returns your icy gaze. “You’re just jealous.”

He scoffs and looks away, cheeks burning. “What’s there to be jealous of? You two aren’t actually going to meet up. Just like when you pulled that shit with me. Honestly…”

“Hah! No. You’re the one who fumbled that. You insulted my taste.”

“And you’re the one who took a joke wrong. And had the audacity to hit on me within your first two weeks here.” You swallow hard. He had a point. Here’s the other shoe dropping, but you weren’t going to run. Or fawn. 

“I deserve that. I’m sorry.” You nod and lower your eyes. 

“It’s…” Vessel seems shocked. Unbeknownst to you, Vessel has received maybe 3 genuine apologies in his whole life, each from family. “All’s forgiven.” 

A sheepish smile pulls at your lips.  “I’m going to take that trash out, yeah?” You say referring to the trash you had wanted him to take care of. He doesn’t protest and even thanks you. 

As you’re tossing the garbage in the alley, you realize immediately…you’re not alone. 

[st3f13ily]

EXTRA CREDIT

• Reverse Romance Trope

• Academic rivals but two teachers are competing for the best class.

• English Teacher Itoshi Rin x Math Chaotic Teacher Reader

• Sorry for my disappearance, and I'm also sorry for not posting some Blue Lock High Au for a while, I have some drafts but it needs more editing.

Rin Itoshi hated mornings, but he hated them even more when they began with glitter.

There it was again—sparkling, infuriating, and somehow shaped like a smiley face—stuck to his freshly printed poetry analysis worksheets. It winked up at him like it knew exactly what it was doing. He stood in front of the copier, shoulders squared and jaw tight, staring blankly at the page, wondering at what point in his otherwise meticulously controlled life things had gotten so... stupid.

He lifted the next sheet. Another smiley face. And the next. And the next. All glimmering, obnoxiously cheerful, and completely unprofessional. It was like the ghost of a kindergarten art project had cursed his part of the English department.

He didn't need to check to know who was responsible.

Ms. (L/N) (Y/N), the math department's human equivalent of a sugar rush, had probably used the copier before him and left behind an explosion of joy and chaos. Again.

Rin exhaled slowly through his nose, the corner of his mouth twitching—not in amusement, but in the barely restrained fury of a man who had already dealt with glitter once this week. And it was only Tuesday.

He glanced over at the copier like it had personally betrayed him. A few sparkles clung to the tray, proof of the crime committed. There was even a rogue sequin stuck in the crack of the feed tray. Of course, there was. She'd probably printed her ridiculous fraction bingo cards or whatever it was she passed off as curriculum, leaving behind a trail of sparkle like some kind of budget fairy godmother.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, resisting the urge to crumple the glitter-stamped worksheets and toss them into the recycling bin. But no. He was above that. He was mature. Professional.

This was war.

You on the other hand twirled a dry-erase marker between your fingers, practically bouncing on your toes as your students worked through an activity. It was your favourite lesson: probability through a board game you created yourself, complete with dice, candy rewards, glittery laminated cards, and ridiculous trivia questions. Your classroom was filled with laughter, fake arguments, and occasional screams of victory. One group was in a heated debate about whether Skittles or M&Ms had better odds in the candy round, while another was trying to bribe you for bonus rolls.

Exactly how you liked it.

Your bulletin boards sparkled, the math puns on the walls made even the grumpiest student groan-laugh, and the scent of watermelon-scented markers perfumed the air. The soundtrack of your teaching life was upbeat music, crinkling candy wrappers, and your students yelling things like "PROBABILITY GODDESS! I ROLLED A SIX!"

And then—

The door creaked open.

Rin Itoshi's tall, brooding figure filled the doorway like a looming thundercloud over a birthday party.

He didn't step in. He didn't need to. Just one glare swept through the chaos of your candy-colored classroom like a freeze ray. A few students paused mid-roll. One kid dropped their D20 and whispered, "Oh no. It's him."

"(L/N)." Rin said, voice cool and flat as ever.

You blinked innocently, twirling the marker like a baton. "Yes, Mr. Itoshi?"

He held up a sheet of paper between two fingers like it was contaminated. On it, clear as day, was your glitter-smiley signature watermark—stamped right onto his poetry analysis worksheet.

"You're contaminating shared surfaces." he said, in the same tone one might use to report a toxic spill.

You gasped dramatically, placing a hand over your heart and staggering back a step like he'd just confessed his undying love. "Rin, you've finally admitted we’re sharing things. I’m honoured. Truly."

His jaw clenched. "I mean the copier."

"Semantics," you chirped, unbothered. "Still sharing."

He didn’t even blink. "There's glitter on my handouts. My students were blinded by a smiley face. One of them asked if it was a metaphor."

You pretended to swoon. "Your class is finally developing critical thinking skills. You’re welcome."

There was a pause. A muscle ticked in his cheek.

"You need to be more careful." he said.

You gave him a dazzling smile. "I was careful. I only used the pink glitter. You should see what happens when I use the holographic one."

"Don't."

"Too late." you sing-songed.

His eyes narrowed into slits of academic rage. He turned without another word.

And you?

You grinned like the cat who'd just knocked over the teacher’s coffee mug.

"Have a mathemagical day, Mr. Itoshi Rin!" you called sweetly.

He kept walking.

As he left you now turned to your wide eyes and mouth students. "Alright, so where were we?"

One of them raised their hand. "Yes?" You respond to the girl whose face is full of curiosity.

"Are you two dating?"

"I'm sorry what?"

Their rivalry was infamous among the faculty. Rin, the ever-serious English teacher, ran a class so silent you could hear a pencil drop. The kind of silence that screamed discipline and demanded respect. His students, wide-eyed and reverent, took notes as if their academic futures depended on it—and honestly, they might have. He was a force of sharp glances and precision.

You, on the other hand, were the hurricane that blew down the hallway every morning with a travel mug in one hand and a pile of colourful worksheets in the other. Your math classroom was chaos in the most educational sense—music playing softly in the background, students laughing over group activities, candy being passed around like currency, and posters with memes explaining calculus plastered across every surface. It was loud. Unapologetically so. And you loved it.

It started innocently enough. Simple, professional competition. Who had the better class test scores? Whose students performed better in school-wide competitions? Who got mentioned more in the yearbook superlatives? (You were voted "Most Likely to Start a Flash Mob"; Rin was crowned "Scariest When Angry.")

But slowly, steadily, it escalated. The rivalry evolved into something far pettier. And far more personal.

The tension had been brewing all week, ever since the principal announced Teacher Swap Day—an annual event where two teachers temporarily switched classes for one period to "foster interdisciplinary learning." For most of the staff, it was a fun tradition. For you and Rin, it was a declaration of war.

He was assigned to teach your bubbly, sugar-fueled math class. You were handed his solemn, poetry-loving English students.

Neither of you took it well.

"They're going to eat him alive," you whispered gleefully to your students the morning of the swap.

"Try not to let your emotions show on your face," Rin deadpanned to his class. "Even if the math teacher starts tap dancing."

The bell rang. You adjusted your bright cardigan, grabbed your dry erase markers, and strutted into Room 3B—Rin's domain.

Silence.

Twenty sets of eyes stared back at you, stone-faced. No fidgeting. No chatting. The scent of serious academia hung in the air like a storm cloud.

You grinned. "Alright, you lovely literary scholars. Today, we're doing probability... with dice, candy, and competitive chaos."

A flicker of uncertainty crossed a few faces.

Meanwhile, Rin stepped into your classroom.

A student immediately yelled, "Are you here to take over the world, Mr. Itoshi?"

Another passed him a friendship bracelet. Someone else offered him a Capri Sun.

He stared, dead-eyed. "Today, we're analyzing sonnets. Sit down."

Back in his class, you were trying to break the ice. "Let's say we roll a six-sided die. What's the probability of landing on an even number?"

A student raised a hand. "Miss, will this be graded based on effort or accuracy?"

You blinked. "Uh... Both?"

He nodded seriously and began calculating with textbook precision.

You muttered, "Rin's raised an army of overly competent robots."

Over in your room, Rin stood before a whiteboard covered in doodles, glitter residue, and a quote that said, 'Math is just number poetry.'

He erased it. "No, it isn't."

Your students gave him side-eyes. One brave soul whispered, "Miss (L/N) lets us write poems in the shape of cats."

Rin twitched.

He turned, arms crossed. "You're writing traditional sonnets. Fourteen lines. Iambic pentameter."

Groans echoed.

Meanwhile, you were standing in front of a graph projected on the board, your usual jokes falling flat. The students followed everything with unnerving efficiency.

You paced, muttering under your breath. "Okay, maybe they're not robots. They're just... terrifyingly competent."

In your class, Rin held up a poetry book. "This is 'Ozymandias.' It's about pride, ambition, and the inevitable fall of great empires."

A girl raised her hand. "So like Miss (L/N)'s candy kingdom?"

Rin paused. ".....Exactly like that."

Later, you both slammed the door open at the same time, leaving the class and now meeting at the hallway.

You: "Your students are brilliant, emotionally repressed machines!"

Rin: "Yours are sugar-fueled goblins with a cult-like devotion to you."

You pointed a finger. "Are you jealous they gave me a macaroni art trophy that says 'Best Math Wizard'?"

He pulled out a folded haiku. "Your student wrote this about me. It’s titled 'Grumpy Cat in a Cardigan.'"

He paused.

You looked up, expecting a snarky comment.

Instead, he said, "Your students did well. They were... confident. Happy."

You blinked. "That sounded dangerously like a compliment."

Rin leaned against the table. "It's not a weakness to be liked."

"Are you okay? Did the poetry corner run out of existential dread?”

He almost smiled. Almost.

Then he surprised you again.

"Why do you always try so hard to make it fun?" he asked.

You shrugged. "Because math was scary to me once. I don't want it to be that way for them."

He looked at you, and this time, there was no smirk, no sharp edge. Just quiet understanding.

You blinked. "...Why do you teach, Rin?"

He was silent for a long moment.

"Because I didn't think I had anything to say. But books taught me otherwise. So now I make sure my students always have something to say. Even if they whisper it."

You were quiet then. The rivalry, the teasing, the chaos—it all suddenly felt like a front. Like a weird, overly-decorated mask you both wore because it was easier than admitting the truth.

You respected each other.

Maybe even liked each other.

"You wanna get coffee?" you asked.

Rin blinked. "Now?"

"Sure. We can talk about how I'm going to crush you at the next department challenge."

He rolled his eyes, but he grabbed his coat.

"Fine. But if there's glitter on my coffee, I'm quitting."

You grinned. "No promises."

"I swear I'm gonna crush you, your little mathematics brain is gonna turn traumatic."

"Whatever 🙄"

But you two had one thing in mind: I need to make my class better.

Somewhere down the hall, your student whispered to her friend, who is Rin's student.

"Told you they were in love."

"We should tell our classmates about what happened right now."

"I mean both our sections did team up just to make them love each other, even though our teachers won't admit it."

@pinkymangacaps @levihanmyotp

[persephone1700]

The boy is mine- Michael Gavey x Reader

Hello! This is the finale of the 3 part story of Michael Gavey x Reader.

I'm sorry it took so long for me to publish this. I had a couple of rough months last year and when 2025 started I made it to my purposes to write more, learn to do it better and publish more things I have in mind.

Special Mention to: @anukulee

Please enjoy!

Remember English is not my first language so be kind:)

Warning Tags: +18 ONLY , Smut, explicit content, Oral Sex (male receiving), Oral Sex (reader receiving), sex, swearing.

Part 1 Part 2

Michael’s POV:

By Saturday evening, Michael was seriously considering whether he was losing his mind or not. He had spent half the weekend recused in his dorm, staring at a math problem that didn’t make sense.

When did math become difficult for him?

Oh yes, around the same time he’d been foolish enough to start daydreaming about a spoiled brat who clearly wasn’t wasting a single thought on him.

The problem wasn’t just math, gods knew it was the easiest assignment he had this semester, but the constant stream of memories about her… The what ifs clouded his mind and derailed every attempt to focus.

Sighing, he made his way down to the nearest pub on campus. Soon enough, Michael found himself nursing his third pint, a petty attempt to drown his shame and stop thinking about her.

As he took a sip, he noticed you and Felix at a table in the background, drinking and laughing with your friends. 

The sight made his blood boil.

God, what’s next? Were they going to appear on his morning cereal too?!

His frustration bubbled over and he knew he needed to do something, anything, to get his mind back under control. 

The memory of your touch, your laughter, was too fresh… too intoxicating to let go.

A spark of boldness flickered within him, likely fueled by the pints he'd nursed earlier so he gathered up every ounce of courage to approach your table.  He expected to be ignored, or worse, laughed at. But when he reached the table, his words stuck in his throat. 

Farleigh spotted him first. “Go away, you little perv.”

Your gaze met his, and Michael’s jaw clenched.

“Knock it off, Farleigh,” you snapped, then turned to him with a smile. “Hey, Michael. How are you?”

“Oh, is this the creepy math genius Ollie’s been talking about?” Felix chimed in, his curiosity piqued.

Michael’s eyes zeroed in on Felix’s arm draped over your shoulders. The sight struck him like a gut punch, heat rising from his chest to his neck. His fists clenched at his sides as his focus narrowed on how Felix leaned in closer to you, laughing in that effortless, casual way that grated on Michael’s nerves.

All logic abandoned him, replaced by a smoldering jealousy that twisted in his stomach. Seeing someone else so comfortably close to you…it was driving him mad. 

And it was Felix, of all people. The wanker would tire of you eventually, discard you when he pleased. You deserved better. Someone like him.

Before you could step in, Michael’s words broke through. “Yeah, that’s me. And you’re the plonker failing every class and paying off teachers for grades.”

The words left his mouth easily, bitter and satisfying, and though it wasn’t the greatest insult, he knew Felix would hate the truth in it. For a fraction of a second, Felix’s brows furrowed before his grin widened, clearly entertained by Michael’s bluntness.

“Well, aren’t you charming?” he chuckled. “What can I say? I’m all about enjoying life.”

Farleigh snorted. “ Oh Felix but our little perv right here wouldn’t know about that, he is the one who needs to loosen up and stop watching us from the dark corners. "

You shifted in your seat, preparing to stand and pull Michael away from the situation.

Felix raised an eyebrow, catching the movement, and added, “Tell you what, Miguel… that's your name, right mate? Why don’t you come to the party at the student hall tonight?” He left cash on the table, flashing Michael a smug smile, the mispronunciation of his name landing with a deliberate sting.

Michael rolled his eyes, his suspicion flaring. He’d expected hostility or indifference from Felix, not this casual invitation. 

Was it a setup? 

Another ploy to humiliate him?

Farleigh’s laughter faded, replaced by a scowl. “What? Are you serious?”

A silence fell over the group, everyone waiting for Felix to reveal the joke, but it never came.

Farleigh snorted again. “What is this, a freak show?”

Annabel got up with a huff, walking over to Felix. “Come on, Felix, you can’t be serious… haven’t you already befriended the other one?”

“Besides, that one is a scholarship kid!” she sneered. “It’s pathetic! People will think anyone can just join us, and they can't!”

You cut in, your tone sweetened with fake kindness. “Oh dear Annabel but I thought you hooked up with that ‘scholarship kid,’  the night Felix dumped you?.”

Annabel’s mouth opened, but she had no comeback. She sighed, grabbing India’s arm, and stalked off with Farleigh trailing behind.

----

Michaels head was working hard as he tried to come up with an answer that may as well determine his future.

Did he really wish to hang out with Felix and his stuck-up friends? No, obviously. 

He wasn’t Oliver. 

But he cared about getting closer to you, even if it meant stepping out of his comfort zone for a night.

Does he have anything better to do? Certainly not. 

He would just be in his room, eating scrunchies and staring at that stupid problem due for Monday.

It was a choice: drown in his loneliness for the rest of the weekend, or take a chance and figure out what the hell was going on with you. He needed to know where he standed.

So he agreed to go.

To his first party. Ever.

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

Felix's POV:

Of course Felix's intentions were not innocent at all. Normally, he would never have invited a tosser like Michael to a party, but what Ollie had told him about the "weird math genius" was hard to ignore.

You’d taken a peculiar interest in Michael, and it was driving Felix mad with curiosity and suspicion. 

It had been a long time since the two of you were together, but somehow, Felix found himself missing you in more ways than just a friend would miss another friend. He started feeling neglected and he needed to know why.

Just that week, you had fought over something, and when he kissed you, you pulled away. It was a surprise for sure, it hit him like a bucket of cold water. Not a single one of the girls he had kissed ever pulled apart, so  he realized then that you must have your eye on someone else, like a predator eyeing a small animal.

He couldn’t help but feel both curious and possessive over his best friend.

He hated that he missed you, hated how you lingered in his mind, and hated even more that his curiosity was shading into something darker, a desire to control the way you looked at him again.

Were you seriously  drifting away from him?

And because of that?

He thought back to Saltburn and all the years the two of you had been close. Your families were friends and he couldn’t even remember a time when you weren’t around. His mother, Elspeth, always beamed when she saw you, gushing over how you’d grown.

Of course he’d noticed it too. How could he not?

It was hard to miss the soft curves your body had developed.

And as he grew older, that easy friendship turned into something that fed a different kind of need. Yet, no matter how many times he tried to turn it into more, you insisted on keeping it simple: you knew his reputation and you wanted to prioritize your friendship above every other feeling, no matter how amazing the sex was.

Despite the countless girls he held in the palm of his hand, he found himself missing you lately. The sting of you pulling away whenever he got too close,  left him with a frustration he couldn’t shake. 

He needed to know if Michael had something to do with this. As much as he hated the idea, he wanted to confirm his suspicions.

And so, here he was, extending an invitation to a guy he barely tolerated, for all he knew this Miguel guy may turned out to be a sociopath or a killer… Still he did it all for the chance to know what was really going on between you and the little bastard.

Venetia got up from the  table and followed Farleigh and the others outside. Just as Farleigh passed Michael, he tossed him aside and Felix felt a little satisfaction watching him press his lips in a tight line. Then he swung his arm casually around your shoulders,  and steered you towards the door. 

Just for the fun of thinking how much it would get to the tosser.

“Oi! You're just gonna sulk there all night, or are you coming, Miguel?” Felix called back with a grin.

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

Michael’s POV:

Michael's fists clenched as he reluctantly followed. The cool night air brushed against him, and the dim street lamps cast long shadows along their path to the student hall. He could already hear the faint thump of music, getting louder as they approached, mingling with the sounds of laughter and murmurs from people smoking on the lawn. For a moment, he hesitated, feeling the sharp sting of being out of place.

Rich kids and their privileges. 

He forced himself forward, but a nagging thought kept clawing at him: Why the hell did he agree to this?

Too deep in his thoughts, suddenly  he looked up and realized he’d lost sight of the others. Panic clawed at his chest, and his gaze jumped from one unfamiliar face to another. Strangers laughed around him, louder than they needed to, shadows seeming to mock him. 

Even Annabel’s presence would’ve been a comfort. 

What if this was their plan all along, get him here, then ditch him, expecting him to disappear? 

The thought dug in, but his resolve only hardened. No way would he let Felix Catton play him like that.

Just as his frustration began to simmer into anger, he spotted you near the building, pouring a drink and locked in a heated argument with Felix. Felix's scowl said it all: he was not enjoying himself. Curious, Michael moved closer, catching the tail end of the conversation.

Felix’s voice sliced through the thumping music. “Why do you care so much if we make fun of him?!”

Your answer was sharp, a tone Michael hadn’t heard from you before. “Because not everything is a joke to me, Felix! Maybe you should try taking people’s feelings seriously for once.”

Felix's bitter response came instantly. “You want to talk about feelings? What about mine, then?”

“Oh, come on, Felix! I’ve known you for years! Do you really think I can’t tell when you’re lying?” You shook your head, frustration flashing in your eyes. “You don’t feel that way about me, you’re just upset I turned you down.”

Felix’s voice dropped, his gaze hardening. “Come on, you can’t really like him… he’s a knob. Besides, when we are at Saltburn this summer you know I am the one you will be fucking!”

“Well, I do like him!” you shot back, your voice firm. “So quit the act.”

A small, twisted satisfaction curled in Michael’s chest as he watched the exchange unfold. Seeing Felix squirm was rare, and he couldn’t help but savor it. But then, as if sensing him nearby, you turned and spotted Michael.

“Come on, Michael,” you called over the music. “This party is dead boring. I’m sure we can find other ways to make our own fun.” You snatched a bottle from the table, giving Felix a pointed look, before walking over to Michael and taking his hand, pulling him toward the building.

Michael stole a glance back at Felix as he let you lead him inside. Felix stood there, fuming, looking every bit the fool he was.

Oh my my my, how the tables had turned.

The atmosphere inside was hazy, a faint scent of smoke clinging to the air, the hallways were only partially occupied, with a few students smoking, flirting, and sipping on drinks, you were barely paying attention to your surroundings as you led Michael deeper inside the hall into the dorm rooms.

When you finally reached your room, you opened the door and let Michael in. He took a look around and noticed the wooden floors, your desk beside your window along with a big bookshelf filled with books, the closet on the opposite wall, and in the middle a big bed with lavender sheets.  

The room looked pristine. As he had imagined it would look like. 

Not that he had ever imagined or fantasized how your room looked like. Nope.

Definitely not that.

You released his hand and popped open the Champagne bottle, sending the cork flying into a nearby couch. The fizz bubbled over, spilling onto your hand. Without hesitating, you took a deep sip straight from the bottle and held it out to Michael.

“Excuse my manners,” you said, a trace of anger lingering in your voice. “I’m not in the mood to be questioned.”

Surprised but saying nothing, Michael took the bottle and drank. Your eyes danced over him as he took a careful sip, the slight burn of the champagne catching him off-guard.

“Are you mad?” he asked quietly.

“Yes.”

“At me? For coming here?”

You shook your head, a scoff escaping. “No, not at you. Actually, I was hoping you’d show up.” Your expression softened slightly, though a hint of irritation remained. “It’s my friends, the ones I am mad at. But you... I think we have some unfinished business, don’t we?”

Michaels cheeks turned pink and he awkwardly nodded.

“Don’t hold back on me, Michael,” you said, your gaze challenging. “I didn’t bring you to my room just so you could stand there.”

He swallowed a big gulp,  flush creeping into his cheeks, but he didn’t look away. Instead, he set the bottle down and took a step closer, bolder than before, drawn to you by something he couldn’t name.

The air thickened between you both suddenly aware of the thrill of the moment, the faint sound of muffled laughter outside.

Your fingers traced a line up his arm, slowly, lingeringly. “Tell me,” you whispered, voice teasing as you leaned close, your lips barely a breath away from his ear. “Do you still think about… last time?”

Michael’s breath hitched, his hands twitching as if he didn’t know whether to pull you close or keep his distance. The memory of your touch, the intensity of it, filled his mind, making it harder to think clearly. He felt the darkness closing in, a dizzying pull of desire and fear all tangled together.

“Y-yes,” he stammered, barely able to meet your gaze. “I can’t… I haven’t stopped thinking about it.”

“Good,” you said, drawing out the word, letting him see the hunger in your eyes. You moved closer, pressing your body against his, feeling his breath catch, his hands tentatively settling at your waist. 

“Then let’s not waste time,” you whispered, reaching up to tilt his chin, pulling him into a kiss, slow, searing, as if you wanted to torture him.

For Michael, it was overwhelming, intoxicating. Every sense was heightened, the soft scrape of your nails on his chin, the warmth of your breath against his skin. You moved with practiced ease, guiding him, teasing him.

You let your hand trail up Michael’s chest, feeling the nervous tremor beneath his shirt. “Do you want to pick up where we left off?” you asked, your voice a sultry whisper.

Michael swallowed hard, his eager nod unmistakable. “Y-yes… yes, please,” he managed, his voice a raw edge of desperation.

You gave him a smirk, brushing a finger along his jaw. “Good boy.” Your voice softened as you gestured toward the plush bed. “Go sit down, right there.”

He obeyed, settling into the bed with a quiet intensity. The dim lights of the lamps cast long shadows over you as you slowly lifted your shirt up, revealing your breasts, then you began to undo the buttons of your skirt, letting it slide down to the floor. 

Michael’s eyes followed your every movement, wide and hungry, his breath hitching with each piece of clothing you let fall to the floor. His gaze devoured you, lingering on every inch of newly exposed skin until you stood before him, wearing nothing but a pair of black lace panties, an unspoken invitation hanging in the air.

His lips parted, awe and disbelief flickering in his eyes.

"Touch me," you murmured, stepping closer, positioning yourself between his knees. His hands hovered for a moment, unsure, trembling slightly as they found your skin. His touch was light, almost reverent, until you guided him, his fingers trailing over your breasts, growing bolder under your silent whimpers.

A mischievous spark lit your eyes as you sank to your knees. Michael watched, his breath shallow, as you unbuttoned his jeans and tugged them down, along with his boxers. His cock sprang free, already hard and eager for you.

 You wrapped your hand around him, stroking him slowly at first, teasing him, before quickening your pace. His head fell back with a deep groan, but he lifted it again, needing to watch you, the sight of your mouth taking him in, inch by inch, making his hips twitch involuntarily.

Tears pricked your eyes from the stretch as you worked him with your mouth and hands, your gaze never leaving his. The muscles in his stomach tightened, his abs flexing, and you knew he was close. But you weren’t ready to let him finish. Not yet.

With a final, deliberate suck, you pulled off him, leaving him throbbing and desperate. His eyes snapped open, confusion and frustration flashing in them.

You rose to your feet, sliding your panties down and stepping out of them gracefully. He barely had a second to take in the sight before you climbed onto his lap, straddling him. Your hands found the hem of his shirt, tugging it upward. He helped you, yanking it over his head and tossing it aside. It was that stupid burgundy shirt with the "That's how I Roll" joke written on it. You rolled your eyes, such a dork.

The moment his mouth was free, he claimed yours in a desperate, hungry kiss. His lips tasted like champagne, sweet and heady, while yours carried a saltier flavor, his own taste lingering on your tongue.

His hands wandered, gripping your ass, pulling you tighter against him. His cock pressed against your wet folds, and you moaned softly into his mouth, the friction deliciously unbearable.

When you broke the kiss to catch your breath, his lips trailed down your neck, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses over your collarbone and chest. Your head fell back, fingers tangling in his hair as he sucked lightly around your nipple, drawing a gasp from you.

You pushed him back against the mattress, taking control once more. Grasping his cock, you lined him up, teasing him by rubbing his tip along your slick entrance before slowly sinking down.

Michael groaned, his head falling back against the pillow. His hands gripped your hips tightly as you adjusted to his size, the stretch burning in the best way.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he murmured, voice strained.

You began to move, rolling your hips, setting a slow, deliberate pace. His hips bucked beneath you, meeting your thrusts, his awkwardness melting away with each rise and fall.

Michael’s hands slid up your waist, guiding your movements, his confidence building until something darker flickered in his eyes. Without warning, he sat up, wrapping an arm around your back and flipping you beneath him.

You gasped, the sudden shift leaving you breathless. He hovered over you, his eyes locked on yours,  hunger written all over them. He spread your legs wider, positioning himself between them, and thrust into you hard.

A broken moan escaped your lips as he pinned your hands above your head, his hips moving with newfound determination. The sound of skin meeting skin filled the room, blending with your gasps and his ragged groans.

Sweat beaded along his neck, a single droplet trailing down to his chest as he pounded into you. With a new and deeper thrust, you moaned beautifully and he knew he had found that perfect spot inside you , the one that made you see stars,  and he hit it over and over again, making your body tremble beneath him.

"Right there, Michael," you begged, your voice barely a whisper.

His lips curled into a wicked smirk. He doubled down, driving into you with relentless precision, his cock dragging against that spot until you were a writhing mess beneath him.

Just when you thought you couldn’t take anymore, he pulled out, flipping you onto your stomach. He grabbed your hips, lifting you up, and landed a sharp slap on your ass. A startled moan escaped you, and he chuckled darkly.

"Such a brat," he murmured before pushing into you again from behind, filling you in one smooth thrust.

You cried out, the new angle making you feel him impossibly deeper. His hands gripped your hips tight enough to bruise, guiding your body back against him as he fucked you harder and faster, chasing both your releases.

Your body trembled, thighs shaking as you felt the coil in your belly tighten.

"I... I’m close," you gasped, voice breaking.

Michael groaned, thrusting even harder, his rhythm faltering.

Your orgasm slammed into you, walls pulsing and tightening around him. He cursed loudly, his hands digging into your hips as he followed, spilling inside you with a final, shuddering thrust.

He stilled, his breath ragged and uneven, before slowly pulling out.

"Shit... I didn’t even ask if I could cum inside," he stammered, his voice shaky and unsure.

The shy boy resurfacing.

You laughed softly, turning to meet his worried gaze. His cheeks were flushed, his hair a mess, and his glasses had slipped down his nose.

"It’s okay. I have an IUD," you reassured him with a smirk.

Relief washed over his face, and he smiled sheepishly.

"Wanna get cleaned up? You can stay the night" you asked, nodding toward the bathroom.

Michael’s smile shifted into something more mischievous. His hand curled around your waist, pulling you down against him.

"Who said I was done with you, spoiled girl?"

 You raised a brow, smirking. "Didn’t think you had it in you, nerd."

His grin widened, eyes dark with promise.

"Oh, I’ll show you just how much I’ve got left darling," he murmured against your ear, his voice low and teasing before trailing kisses down your body.

He slid off the bed, sinking to his knees between your legs, his hands spreading your thighs wider. His eyes never left yours , dark, hungry, as his tongue dragged slowly along your slick, sensitive folds.

A shiver ran through your spine, your body arching into his touch, his name falling from your lips in a breathless moan.

Gods… what have I gotten myself into?

[putellas-united]

Bit of Teen Player x Teen Reader

This is my first fic so please be nice!!!

The first time you met Leah was at the first day of school, that was four years ago since then you two got on like a house on fire which doesn't really make sense because she loves football, is such a popular, confident, extroverted person with like a gazillion friends who hates school she wished she could just play football all day. But then there is you, who doesn't play any sports loves reading books is shy, introverted and quiet who does good in school so how you are the best of friends and never run out of things to talk about is quite weird, but as they say opposites attract.

You and Leah both lived in a little town just outside London and both went to a school with about 1,000 students so it is crazy that you both met by sitting beside each other in you maths class, she talked to you first because she didn't know what the answers were to her fractions question so she asked to copy your sheet because you were done in about 2 seconds well that's how she described it anyway.

That was 4 years ago and since then you are like two peas in a pod always staying over at each others houses, taking her dog walks in the park or even the odd time studying when we had a test coming up, well usually I would study and Leah would just yap the whole time and not get very much done. You would never see one without the other it would be as rare as Spurs winning the north London derby!

But as we both grew up lots of things started to change around us there was changes in our bodies, changes of people around us and especially changes in feelings towards others. Lots of Leah's other friends were starting to get boyfriends and having crushes on boys well that's what she told you when you were staying over in her house one night, this made you really think that I don't have a crush on any boys? should I? is there something wrong with me that I dont?

This was stuck on your mind all night and you couldnt shake it off, your head was all over the place and Leah could tell. You were zoning out which you never do, she was talking to you but it was like a one way conversation with herself and you were fidgeting with your bracelet.

Leah noticed.

Of course she noticed she knew you like the back of her hand but she didn't question you on it, well not yet. You both just continued to watch a tv show both of you had been binge watching recently you both were laying on Leah's couch you were cuddled into Leah's side. You told yourself it was for heat and all best friends cuddle closely together so you didnt think anything of it, it was getting a bit late so you both decided to head upstairs and get ready for bed.

You went in and got your pjs and you went straight into the bathroom to change when packing your bag you must not have realised that it is literally winter and you decided to pack a short sleeved oversized t-shirt and a pair of pyjama shorts. how stupid. So when you came out of the bathroom and back into Leah's room she could physically see your teeth chattering and goose bumps on your arm so she asked you.

"hey are you alright you look like you are litterly gonna freeze?"

"uh no-yeah im okay really-"

Before I could reply she already had her hoodie she was currently wearing up over her head and shoulders taking it off to give to you.

Leaving her in only her sports bra and pyjama trousers.

Your stomach flipped as you could litterly see her toned abs your eyes widened you always knew Leah was quite physically fit like she had lots of toned muscles because of football and the gym, and sure you had seen her lift her shirt before to dry sweat off from her forehead but now it was completely different it made you feel all funny in your tummy is the only way you could describe it. Leah proceeded to walk over and put the hoodie through your head and guide your arms in until you had it on fully she then quickly ran over to her wardrobe to grab another t-shirt to wear to bed.

"Why are you just standing there?" Leah said

"Uh I- dont know. I said whilst walking over to her bed

When I got over she pulled the covers up for me as I sleep on the outside of the bed.

"Thanks Lee"

She just smiled in return, that smile made my cheeks go red. Why did I feel embarrassed? What's going on with me today?

I just curled into Leah as we watched the show but my mind started to wonder back to what those girls said, its nothing right everyone takes life at their own pace right i shouldn't worry about it is what i kept telling myself but I felt as if it was suffocating me, like these insecure thoughts were slowly but surely squashing my body into its fist. Before I knew it my breathing started to increase and I wasnt the first person to notice it.

"Hey are you okay?"

I just shook my head feeling like I couldnt get any words out, like they were stuck in my throat.

"Is there something you want to tell me?"

I nodded as my eyes started to well up in tears

"Hey, dont cry. You- you can tell me anything its okay shh" Leah said as she wiped a tear off of my cheek her hands felt like fire on my skin that I craved for without knowing.

"No- its silly it dos-"

"Do you think I was born yesterday? Now come on its alright"

"Sorry im just kind of embarrassed about it" I said as I hid my head into my hands under the blancket

"So, I was thinking about the whole kissing and boyfriend thing that you mentioned the girls were talking about and I kinda felt really left out or behind sort of and I was stressing because why do I not have a crush on anyone? and when the time comes how do I kiss someone? or will I be a bad kisser?" I rambled on so quickly.

"I get it I know things like this can be alot for you but I know you will be alright and hey when the right one comes around you will know you will feel it like your tummy will go all funny like its doing backwards trust me"

"huh" Thats the exact moment it hit you like a train.

"what thats what it feels like for me anyway"

You didnt respond because what the hell were you going to say "I think you make me feel like that when im around you."

No. Of course not.

You were like a dear in headlights.

"Everything okay?"

"Uh yeah yup everything's 100%"

"Okaaayyyy i guess well another thing dont let the guys in our year get to you because I think you are beautiful and funny and smart and just amazing in general and they are missing out big time."

In that instant my cheeks went red as cherries and my tummy did the flip thing. I just nodded to respond afraid I could even manage to get words out without me making myself look like a fool.

A couple minutes later of us just sitting in silence I yawned to Leah decided we should head to sleep so we are not tired in the morning.

"Night Lee"

"Night"

Part 2??

[homo-taylorsversion]

I hate hearing about people's "amazing highschool (extra curricular) experience". Like, what experience?!

Literally in highschool, I wasn't allowed to do any of those fun classes. I only got to do art and that was because it was REQUIRED. Don't get me wrong, I loved my art teacher. But seriously?! No choir, no band, no home/cooking class, no theater, no shop class in any kind (just to name the main known ones). No matter how much I begged. I literally had to FIGHT THE SCHOOL AND MY PARENTS TO BE IN ONE FUCKING PLAY! in my senior year.

Why? Because putting me in special needs/extra math classes was apparently more important than letting me enjoy highschool. I fucking HATED school and couldn't stand 95% of my classes. I was jealous of my friends talking "theater this" and "choir that" while I'm over here like: "... I learned fractions again...?"

I dunno... Maybe letting me do classes I would have been excited to do And actually wanted might have improved my overall school EVERYTHING?! I might have actually passed more classes? Cared more? Not wanting to slam my head against the desk everyday?

That was just a SMALL EXAMPLE of my entire school life. I never understood them, and I still don't know why...

Stop. Excluding. Disabled. Kids.

[spidrstar]

A LITTLE BIT MORE

★ pairing: aged up!miles1610 x latina!reader

★ warnings: all characters in this story are 18!!! suggestive i think?

★ summary: Miles has been your math tutor for the past few months and you can’t lie, he’s been sort of your lil bestfriend too because you tell him all about your boy problems and everything. It got to a certain point where you were about to let something personal slip.. specifically how you didn’t know how to kiss. Miles may be a lil nerd n a tutor n all but he still gets play, so you asked him to show you how to kiss and it slowly turned into more than that.. a make out session.

★ w/c: 2k

★ a/n: ok so ik i put up a poll for y’all to choose but.. i rly wanted to write abt 1610 miles esp for this one shot ���� sry yall i got yall w the next one shot tho trust🙏

“Miles, please don’t make me do this problem on my own.. you know how I am with fractions.”

You groaned at just the sight of the problem and leaned back on your arms.

For context, you were currently in Miles’ room with three different text books sprawled out open on the floor. He’s been your math tutor for the past four months because you failed your last two math classes and couldn’t afford to fail one more because that would cause you to fail the grade. Today, you were both going over things that were going to be in your test at the end of the marking period.

You’ve been studying non-stop all week and grew tired of it (even though all you mostly did was get off topic and have endless conversations with Miles.)

“Y/n, c‘mon you can’t do this every time i’m tutoring you. Just try.” Miles smiled at your reaction to the math problems in the book.

“Can we please just take a small break?”

“..Y/n our last break was 5 minutes ago.”

“Exactly my point!! It’s been too long.”

He chuckled at you and had no choice but to give in. It’s not like he didn’t enjoy the silly conversations you both had. You both saw each other as.. you wouldn’t say therapists but more of a.. comfort friend? Just someone you could talk to freely basically. At this point you were practically each others best friend, you just hadn’t noticed it yet.

Miles always enjoyed your company, no matter what you both were doing as long as it was together. You rarely ever hung out together if it wasn’t involved with tutoring, but that wasn’t a bad thing. You would almost get tutored everyday because math just really wasn’t something you were good at..

“Soo.. what’s with you and that guy what was his name.. Ethan?”

“It’s Evan, and we fell out. I found him talking to two of my friends at the same time and I wasn't gonna stay around to see that unfold. I told them of course, just didn’t wanna be there to witness the outcome.”

He raised his eyebrows in surprise, Miles knew your situation with guys very very well. He knew almost all of the guys you messed around with, well.. weren’t the best. If he was honest, they sucked ass. They all seemed to go after you for one thing, your body. Miles always hated the idea of you talking to another guy, not in a weird or possessive way of course, he was just over protective of you. He always remembers the nights you would text him asking him if he was free just to cry in his arms.

Sometimes you would come in all moody to your study sessions too and for you that was off, because when you opened your mouth it never seemed to shut.

He palmed his face and sighed in disappointment of yet another shitty guy you messed with.

“I told you he seemed off. He was wayy too friendly for a guy that ‘only wanted to be with you’ I never trusted him and i’m proud to say i didn’t.” Miles quoted with his fingers.

You smiled and looked down at the floor deep in thought, “Yeah well, he was ugly anyways. Personality wise too, he never really made me laugh. When I did laugh around him I would laugh at him, not with him. Y’know?”

“Yeah, I would notice. Your laughs never seemed genuine around him.” He shrugged.

You smirked and cocked an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? And what’s ‘genuine’ to you?”

Miles leaned in and placed his palms on his knees looking up at the ceiling thinking of what to say.

“Like.. it’s hard to explain. Around me, your laughs just have a higher pitch and you lose your breath much quicker and you make random sounds while laughing which is what gets me to laugh. Then, around him your laughs were like so motone and you didn’t really hold onto your stomach as if it hurt from laughing so much, you get me?”

You stared at him in disbelief from how much he went into detail, you never thought of how much he really paid attention to you. Your face was a little bright red, you were flustered because you just felt so.. special? The feeling was unknown.

“Wow.. that’s—that’s a lot. I get what you mean though, his jokes were never as funny as yours were. You don’t even have to try to make me laugh.” You smiled.

He smiled back and made a proud expression, you knew what was coming next. Miles always made this face when he was about to brag about something.

“Thank you, I get that a lot from girls. I always make sure to keep them entertained and never treat them like shit. I don’t understand how you manage to find guys like that, I would never do what they do. Pretty sure my ma would kill me.” He chuckled at the last sentence.

You rolled your eyes at the bragging, you knew Miles had game and had many many girls falling for him. I mean, who wouldn't fall for him? Look at him, he has a great personality, he's caring, a momma's boy which, by the way, is totally adorable and he’s just so sweet and genuine. His smile was contagious and he was attractive too of course..

You snapped back to reality, your mind wandering off somewhere else.

“Bet you got lots of bitches huh.” You choke out a laugh trying to ignore the thoughts lingering at the back of your head.

“Nah, it may seem that way but I honestly got my eye set on one girl. I’m not bout that ‘playa’ shit y’know? Gotta keep it real and let ‘em know that cause leading people on ain’t what i’m about.”

You looked at him intensely, really wondering who this girl was. Although you felt the urge to beg him to tell you because you knew how stubborn he was, you didn’t. You were scared you weren’t gonna like his answer so you brushed the feeling aside.

You wouldn’t admit it to anyone but yourself (barely) you had feelings for Miles, you weren’t aware of it until about a month ago when you went on countless dates. On every single one, Miles was in your head and you couldn’t seem to focus on the person in front of you.

“That’s surprising, if you’re not a player like you say you aren’t how do you treat your girls?” You quickly switched the topic and switched the rolls.

“Well, ion be messin’ around with other girls or on that friendly shit y’know? Every chance I get ima flaunt my girl like she’s the lottery.” He smiled proudly.

You scoffed in jealousy. “Wow, I wish there were more guys like you shit ONE like you at least.”

Miles blushed a bit at the way you said you wanted someone like him. He quickly recovered and perked a brow, scoffing with a proud expression.

“Yeah well, I'm one of one. Can’t find anyone like me.”

“I just can’t believe it, I haven’t even been with one guy who’s good enough to show me how to-“

You quickly saved yourself from the embarrassment and threw your hands over your mouth. Miles took notice of this and he raised a brow at you and moved slightly closer.

“Show you how to what?” He asked, smirking only slightly.

Heat rose to your cheeks, you covered your face and grumbled from already feeling embarrassed even though you hadn’t even told him yet. You hid yourself in your knees not wanting to face him.

“C’mon I promise I won't laugh!” He begged.

“Yes you will! I know you!”

“I swear on my pet hamster's life I won't.” He spoke seriously.

You looked up a bit, sighing and agreeing to say what was on your mind, you had always been ashamed of it because you never really kissed just anyone. You wanted it to be special, of course you’ve kissed a few but your old self thought they were special when they weren’t.

“F-Fine. I—I..don’t know how to kiss.” You whispered the last part lowly, too embarrassed to say it outloud.

“A lil louder than that Y/n, it’s just you and me here c’mon.” He sweetly smiled at you placing a hand on your back.

“I don’t know how to kiss.” You said bluntly, looking straight to avoid his striking gaze.

All that could be heard were stifled chuckles and you turned to stare at the culprit, Miles was cupping his mouth with both hands trying not to burst out laughing straight in your face. You smacked the back of his head and scolded him for swearing.

“Miles! You swore on your hamster's life!”

Laughter erupted from him and could be heard loudly throughout the room. Soon he calmed down and collected enough breath to speak.

“He died like a week ago, it's fine.”

“What?! And you didn’t tell me?? Tu si eres malo.”

“Whatever, back on topic. You don’t know how to kiss? How? You’re like, genuinely one of the prettiest girls I know.”

You blushed at both the comment and from embarrassment. You were 18 almost 19 and didn’t even know how to properly have a make out session, not that it was your fault. All the guys you messed with genuinely sucked, and your lips were far too precious for you to just place them on anyone.

“Hey! No es culpa mía, i bet you’re not even good at kissing either.” I huffed angrily.

“Actually, I'm quite known for being a great kisser para tu información.” He admitted proudly.

Then, an idea spiked up in your head. He was your best friend.. you think? Might as well take this perfect opportunity to ask him for a favor, a huge one. This had you nervous though, because it could go two ways. He would say yes and show you and you both would continue to live your lives as if nothing happened, as normal friends right? Or.. you would be embarrassed for the rest of it if he said no. How would you recover from that? Whatever.. might as well do it now and pray nothing bad happened.

“Miles?” You finally spoke, with a serious tone hiding behind your words.

“Yes?”

“Could you.. um—do me a favor?” You spoke shyly, a wave of nervousness was coming at you and strong.

“Depends. What is it?” He spoke more lowly now with curiosity, he subconsciously moved closer to you to hear you clearly. In case you’d decided to whisper again since that was a habit.

You took a deep breath, preparing yourself for what was to become. This determined whether or not you would ever talk to him or see him the same, you seriously thought you wouldn’t be able to recover from this.

“Could you..maybe.. teach me?” You looked down at the floor again, biting the inner corner of the inside of your cheek. You were slightly sweating from how nervous you were.

A few seconds of silence passed before you looked up nervously. Many thoughts racing in your mind right now;

‘What if he was making fun of me in his head right now?’

‘What if he didn’t want to be friends with me anymore?’

‘What if he thought I was weird?’

‘What if he hates me now?’

Your thoughts were quickly put to a pause when he spoke up, you thought you were dreaming when you heard the words escape his mouth.

“Sure, I’ll teach you. But are you sure like, completely sure you wanna do this? I’m kinda rough with it, and i don’t know if you’d like it.” He spoke softly when looking at you.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, shutting your eyes and nodding. You smiled sweetly at him, your heart speeding up with a hint of excitement. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t think about kissing Miles at least once.

“Yes, I'm sure.” You stared at his eyes then his lips wide eyed, your eyes glistening with anticipation. Your lips were slightly parted as you oh so wanted to lean in and just kiss his pretty lips already, but you waited for him to instruct you on what to do.

He moved closer to you and sat in front of you staring at you with slightly hooded eyes. He smirked as he spoke and that’s all you seemed to notice.

“Alright, first you needa part your lips slightly which i see you’re already doing. Then, you just tilt your head to whichever side you prefer and lean in. Close your eyes obviously, then just follow my lead. Simple, you got it?”

You nodded once again, and blushed lightly as he leaned in closer. His hand made his way up and he gently placed it on the side of your neck and tilted his own head shutting his eyes to kiss you.

“Alright, here we go..” He whispered.

With that, he kissed you gently. His soft lips locked with yours, surprisingly you seemed to follow along quickly and placed one of your hands on his toned chest. Your breaths seemed to quicken with every second that passed and he started to lean in more, this time you were slightly pushed back. You held onto the front of his shirt pulling him down with you. Your forearms supporting your upper weight as you laid back on the floor.

Miles now completely on top of you deepened the kiss, his tongue softly grazed against your bottom lip asking for permission to enter which you complied to. He placed his hand back on your neck, his fingers resting on the bottom part of your lower head pushing you against him more. You let a low moan slip past you and you opened your eyes wide, with shock but quickly closed them back up once you heard the sounds he made.

The ‘agressiveness’ he mentioned now showing as low growls escaped his lips when getting a few seconds to breathe between kisses. His tongue fighting with yours for dominance which he quickly claimed.

He broke the kiss, a string of saliva showcasing how intense the kiss was. He smirked against your lips and you both breathed heavily against each other, chests heaving up and down rapidly. He caressed the sides of your waist slipping one hand under the hem of your shirt and leaned in to seductively whisper in your ear.

“I think I'm gonna have to teach you a little bit more than just kissing, ma.” He smirked.

★ translations: tu si eres malo - you’re so mean || no es culpa mía - it’s not my fault || para tu información - for your information ||

TAGS:

[cosmowes]

Planning Ahead

this is something i'm still working on, actually. keeping a visual log of everything i need to do has been really useful, but it's still a pretty new habit for me.

the issue is that i really, really hate taking the time to have those things be nice- because then i get unmotivated when the load gets heavy and i can't keep it that way. no cute advice, this is my planner for solely function.

SHORTHAND. i use shorthand for everything. a list of my favorites:

ESP - spanish, or FR - french (really works for any foreign language class)

ENG/ELA - english language arts

MT (math) - CALC (calculus) - PCLC (precalc) - STAT (statistics) - ALG (algebra) etc

GEO/HIS (geography or history)

SCI (science) - BIO (biology) - CHEM (chemistry) - FNS (forensics) - PHYS (physics)

GFX (graphic design) - DRM (drama) - HLC (healthcare) - BSN (business) etc... for whatever electives you have, lol

PJ (project)

HW (homework)

CFA/QZ (common formative assessment/quiz)

SD/SG (study/study guide)

PKT (packet)

SM (submit)

UG (ungraded)

SUM (summative)

FORM (formative)

PG _ (page _)

NSR/EC (not school related/extra curricular)

DNO (due night of)

DIC (due in class)

DEOC (due end of class)

i combine these for little nicknames like ESPPJ, MTPK, GFXPJ, etc. or DRM (info) NSR, GFXPKT EC

DESCRIPTION. i add a quick description of the item, just so i know what it is. usually just the actual assignment name or what it entails. if it's at home reading for english, it'll say "ENGHW Reading PG __-__". a drama script might say "DRM Script DEOC"

DATE. i always add the due date. i write it as a fraction so that it takes up a tiny bit less space. if i know, this is where the time it's due is added too.

URGENCY. i had another post about how i decide an assignment's urgency here, so i throw one of these numbers on the end.

DON'T CARE ABOUT CUTE! the point of this is to keep info. build the habit for a while, and once you have logging things as a habit, you can make it cute. but if you're already having trouble building the habit, adding more work will make it more difficult in my experience. always add onto your habits that already exist.

USE IT! i've also seen people have full planners that are so so cute and then just. never use them??? you're making this so that you have a way to keep track. making it, and then just throwing it in your bag to not be seen until tomorrow is defeating the point. use what you made.

images from pin 📌 - search white study aesthetic

[violettwrites]

daughter of the deadlands — 01

prologue | next

a/n: hi !! welcome to the official start of dotd !! i do have to admit that the first couple of chapters may be a bit boring, but it’s just a look into madeline’s relationships with everyone but i promise it’ll get better ! i hope :]

anywho ! if you’re enjoying this so far, please don’t hesitate to reblog, like, and/or comment ! i love it when you guys support me 🫶🏻 also should i do a tag list !? let me know in the comments if i should do that !

→ masterlist

→ ask box

MADELINE GRIMES sat on a log at the edge of the camp, her damp hair clinging to her back as the warm georgia sun beat down on her. she had just gotten back from the quarry that was just a short walks away which was her only option to clean herself. ever since society had fell and the dead rose, basic things like having a shower or washing her hair were extremely limited.

her gaze drifted to her younger brother, carl, sitting at a makeshift table with a math book in front of him. his brows were furrowed, and his tongue stuck out between his lips, and it almost made her laugh. he was good at math, but that didn’t stop him from protesting. after all, why did he have to do math when school wasn’t even a thing anymore? but her mother, lori, as always, just ignored his complaints and insisted he do his homework.

madeline was grateful to be sixteen—old enough to avoid sitting with the younger kids and doing homework. besides, she was a straight-A student before everything went to hell. top of her class in nearly every subject—except phys ed. she hated sports. but everything else? easy A’s. she didn’t need to be sitting with the kids and working on fractions.

lost in her thoughts, madeline didn’t hear shane approach from behind until his hand landed on her shoulder. shane had been in her life since she could remember, being her dad’s best friend and all. she jumped, immediately scowling as she turned to face him. she hadn’t liked shane since her dad died. he had this hero complex, always trying to step into rick’s shoes. he claimed he was just protecting their family, but madeline wasn’t stupid. she saw the way he acted around lori—the way they’d sneak off into the woods together. they acted like rick had never existed, and it made her sick.

“hey, maddie,” shane said, sitting down next to her. she dropped her gaze to her shoes—her beloved converse. at least she’d gotten them for christmas before everything fell apart. “you doin’ okay?” he asked, his brown eyes full of concern for the girl, but she never believed it was genuine. there was just something different about him now. far from the shane she used to know.

madeline wanted to ignore him, but she knew better. her mom would just get mad and remind her to be polite—he was “uncle shane” after all. that didn’t stop the uncomfortable feeling in her gut. “i’m fine,” she muttered, inspecting her nails. she really didn’t care how they looked; she just hoped shane would leave her alone. that’s all she wanted nowadays; to be left alone.

he sighed, and she had to fight back a smile. she knew she got under his skin when she barely spoke to him. it was one of the few small joys she had left: annoying shane.

“you eaten today, kid?” he asked, removing his cap to run a hand through his hair before putting it back on. madeline nodded, a small ‘yep’ coming from her lips, keeping her answers short. she hoped he’d take the hint and leave, and, after a moment, he did. “alright, well… let me know if you need anything, ‘kay?” with that, he got up and walked back toward the camp.

her gaze lingered on him for a moment as he walked back towards the rest of the group, specifically her mother. the cocky swagger in his step was prominent, but you could also tell he was stressed. everyone was. and she did feel bad, but he just tried way too hard in her eyes– making himself the self proclaimed leader of the group, and everyone seemed to go along with it just because he had been a cop.

since learning about rick’s shooting, and the beginning of the apocalypse, madeline had withdrawn from everyone. she would constantly replay those moments in her mind; her mother sitting at the kitchen counter in their house, waiting for her eldest child to come home from school to break the news to her sixteen year old that her father was in a coma, and they didn’t know if he would wake up. and then she remembers a few weeks, maybe a month, later when lori had come into her room, telling her to pack her stuff because they were leaving now— without her dad. it had felt like a punch to the gut. shane had gone back to the hospital during that time too, later “confirming” rick’s death, claiming he’d checked for a heartbeat and found nothing. ever since then, madeline barely spoke to anyone.

it wasn’t just their family and shane at the atlanta camp either. other survivors had joined them. there were the peltiers—ed, carol, and their daughter sophia, who was close in age to carl. then the morales family: morales, miranda, and their two kids, eliza and louis jr. the harrisons— with andrea and amy. t-dog and jacquie, known as the douglas family, were there too.

glenn, dale, and the dixons also made up the group. madeline liked glenn; he was always kind, and they bonded over movies. he was a little older than her, only in his early twenties. dale let her borrow books from his rv—though most of them were boring, she appreciated the gesture from the older male.

as for the dixons, lori and shane didn’t want her or carl speaking to them. not that she was planning on it. merle pissed her off the most, especially when he called her “girlie.” daryl, on the other hand, wasn’t so bad. he didn’t talk much anyway.

deciding she’d had enough of the sun, madeline stood and made her way toward the rv to find a new book, considering she had finished the copy of ‘to kill a mocking bird’. most of dale’s books were old classics she had already read, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. once she was halfway there, she heard the c.b. radio crackle to life.

“hello. hello. can anybody hear my voice?”

it was a man’s voice, but the static made it hard to understand. madeline watched as amy, dropping the sticks she was carrying, scrambled to grab the mic. she knew finding other survivors was important, but why bother? it was just going to turn to shit for them in the long run.

if there was a long run.

she furrowed her brows at the commotion but kept walking. dale had given her free rein to the rv, and she appreciated the quiet escape it offered. once inside, she looked through the stacks of books and grabbed a copy of the catcher in the rye— another classic she had already read, but she didn’t mind it.

as she stepped back outside, book in hand, she spotted shane now trying to respond through the radio.

“hello, hello. is the person who called still on the air? this is officer shane walsh broadcasting to person unknown. please respond.”

madeline rolled her eyes. shane’s insistence on clinging to his cop identity annoyed her. it was like he craved the authority— the respect. and it worked on everyone else but her.

she used to be kind to him— hell, she used to love him, she really did. sometimes he’d pick her up from school in the patrol car when her parents had to go to the school for carl, or he’d always make sure to pick up a new barbie doll for her, every single birthday, but things were different now. and she resented him.

“he’s gone,” shane said, glancing up at the group gathered around him—lori, carl, dale, amy, and a few others.

“there are others,” lori said softly, “it’s not just us.”

from the doorway of the rv, madeline watched. she didn’t care much for the conversation anyway. instead, she turned back inside to sit at the small table and opened her book, letting her head rest on her hand as she read.

lost in her own little world as she read the angsty words of holden caulfield, she hadn’t noticed carl make his way into the rv until he was interrupting her.

“maddie?” carl was one of the only ones that called her maddie— besides her parents of course. usually, she preferred ‘mads’, only because growing up she had been bullied by a girl called maddie, but she didn’t really care anymore. the other maddie was probably dead now, anyway.

“hey, buddy. what’s up?” she asked, folding the corner of her page and closing the book. she probably shouldn’t fold the pages of other people’s books, but she didn’t have a bookmark.

“mom’s mad at shane,” he whispered, sliding into the seat across from her, his chin resting in his hands as he pouted at her. “she wanted to put signs up on the highway to warn people about the city, but shane won’t let her.”

madeline sighed, nodding as she stood up. she could care less if their mom was mad at shane. if it kept him away from her, let her be mad. “c’mon, let’s check on her,” she said, ruffling carl’s hair before following him to their tent. she noticed the tension between her mom and shane. she had noticed it ever since she had realised that shane had a thing for her mom, but she never said anything, because lori had never acted on it. not until now, that was.

“mom?” carl called as they approached, and when shane stepped out of the tent, madeline almost scoffed.

“what’s up, bud? she’s inside. go on,” shane said, ruffling carl’s hair before walking past them, his gaze lingering on madeline.

making her way to the opening of the tent, lori smiled at them both. she knelt in front of carl, holding his hands. “don’t worry, your mama’s not going anywhere, okay?” her voice was soothing, playful even, like when madeline was younger. she nodded reassuringly at carl. “yeah—yeah?” she smiled as carl nodded back. “good, now go finish your chores.”

madeline stood silently, arms crossed, watching her brother run off. then she turned to her mother. “so, you’re sneaking around with uncle shane now?” she narrowed her eyes, seeing the guilt wash over lori’s face. “real classy, mom.”

“madeline, it’s not what you—” but madeline wasn’t listening. before lori could finish, she turned on her heel and stormed off toward the quarry, arms crossed tightly over her chest.

the gravel crunched under her shoes as she hastily made her way towards the quarry, her arms still tightly crossed over her chest, jaw clenched as she fought the growing knot in her stomach. she could hear footsteps behind her but she didn’t slow down—she already knew it was lori.

“madeline, please! wait!” lori called out, but madeline ignored her, making her way to the edge of the quarry. she stopped by the water, staring out over the still surface, her back stiff and unyielding. she just wished she could keep storming off, wanting to just keep walking until she dropped dead, but the water in front of her prevented that.

lori finally caught up, her breathing labored as she approached. “maddie, you can’t just walk off like that.”

madeline didn’t turn around. her voice was cold, distant. “what’s the point in staying? so i can watch you and shane pretend like dad never existed?”

lori’s face crumpled, the words hitting hard. “that’s not what we’re doing,” she whispered, trying to hold on to her composure. “you don’t understand… this world isn’t the same anymore. he’s—” her voice cracked. “he’s gone, maddie.”

“yeah, and you just moved on, didn’t you?” madeline spat, turning on her heel to face her mother. “dad wasn’t even dead before you started playing house with shane. how could you do that to him?” she knew she was being harsh, but she was speaking nothing but the truth. and if the truth hurt, then so be it. lori needed to know.

lori’s eyes glistened with tears, guilt etched into every line of her face. “maddie, shane was just trying to help—”

“help?” madeline’s voice rose, anger spilling out in every word. she wasn’t one to get mad like this, not at her mom anyway. but she had been on edge since everything happened. she was finally bursting at the seams. “he’s not helping us. he’s helping you. you’re both acting like dad never existed, like he never mattered!”

“that’s not true,” lori said, stepping closer, her voice trembling. “your dad mattered. he mattered more than anything, but we didn’t have a choice. we had to survive.”

madeline scoffed, turning away again. “survive? by running off into the woods together? that’s how you survive?”

lori shook her head, her own anger mixing with grief. “it wasn’t like that, mads. you don’t know what it’s been like for me, for us. i had to make decisions. i had to keep you and carl safe—”

“safe?” madeline snapped, cutting her off. “don’t pretend this is about me and carl. this is about you not wanting to be alone. you didn’t even try to hold on. you didn’t wait. you just gave up.” she knew she was being mean, but she couldn’t help it. madeline had given up, herself.

lori’s breath hitched, tears slipping down her cheeks. “i never gave up on your father,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “i loved him—i still love him. but he’s gone, madeline. what was i supposed to do?”

madeline’s eyes filled with tears she refused to let fall. it hurt her, listening to how she was making her mom cry, but madeline was angry. “you were supposed to remember him. you were supposed to wait,” she said, her voice breaking.

the silence between them was thick, suffocating. lori took a tentative step forward, reaching out to touch her daughter’s arm, but madeline flinched away, pulling her arms around her body, as if trying to protect the pieces of herself that still ached.

“maddie…” lori’s voice was soft, desperate. “i’m trying. i’m just trying to hold this family together.”

madeline’s eyes burned with unshed tears as she turned to face her mother. “you’re not holding us together. you’re replacing him. and you don’t even care.”

lori’s face crumpled, her heart breaking at the accusation. “i do care,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “i think about him every day. i miss him every day.”

madeline looked away, back to the water. her voice was softer now, but the hurt was still there, raw and exposed. “you don’t act like it.”

lori swallowed hard, wiping at her tears. “i can’t bring him back, maddie. i wish to god i could, but he’s gone. and we’re still here. we have to keep going, even if it hurts.”

madeline’s silence stretched on, the only sound the soft ripple of the quarry. she didn’t respond, her face set in that same defiant expression that had become her shield since her father’s death.

lori took a deep breath, realizing she wasn’t going to get through to her, at least not today. “i’m here, maddie,” she said quietly, her voice full of emotion. “whenever you want to talk, i’m here.”

madeline’s eyes stayed locked on the water, her expression unreadable. “you can go back to shane now,” she muttered bitterly.

lori opened her mouth to say something more, but the weight of madeline’s words silenced her. she turned slowly and began to walk back toward camp, her footsteps heavy as she left madeline standing alone by the quarry, lost in her anger and grief.

[fanficwriter284]

i miss childhood chiffany, you think we could get a fic or HCs?

Hey! Sorry it took a bit but heres a quick write!

Monday morning in 2nd block always held trouble for a young Tiffany Valentine, her least favorite subject and her least favorite teacher. Math with Ms. Gobram. That woman could turn a simple lesson into dull college lecture. Sometimes the idea of just skipping her class all together and failing sounded more and more appealing, as to why she hadn't done so yet...she didn't really know. What she did know was that her hate of the woman was shared among all her peers, everyone either failing or struggling to keep their head about passable waters...well all except for one. Chucky. No surprise in that really, he always had a knack for math.

"Ms. Valentine! I'm not going to repeat myself again. Now can you answer the question or not?" a booming voice snapped her out of her daydream and back into the cold classroom. She managed a quick glance around the room, catching a brief look from two crystal blues before jerking his head back to the board.

"Ms. Valentine I'm not going to wait for you all day" she repeated smacking a ruler on her desk, causing a slight flinch from both Tiffany and Chucky.

"I--I don't know Ms. Go--"

"Oh course you don't. Do you know why? Because you never pay attention in my class. If you did you would know that the answer is 12."

"Not it's not. So would you stop yelling at her."

Her attention had immediately darted to the Charles. Her eyes narrowed on his small figure taking heavy steps toward him.

"What did you say"

Chucky's frame stiffened but for once he didn't back off, still locking yes with her.

"I said you're wrong Ms. Gobram. You're yelling at her for something you didn't even do right yourself" he spoke, his hands beginning to clench into small fists.

The remark from Chuck had caught Tiffany by surprise, he never spoke nor seemed to care to ever get involved in confrontation...and now her he was, talking back to someone...let alone a teacher.

"Fine...Enlighten the whole class Charles..." she hissed pointing towards the board.

"Alright...if you could read your own handwriting, you'd know that you're supposed to be dividing. And when you're dividing fractions, you multiply by the reciprocal of the other fraction. Then if you can reduce. Should be simple for someone who has a degree. Especially when you're yelling at Tiffany. " he quipped looking back at her sulked face.

Tiffany felt her cheeks heat for a moment, then practically her entire face at his words.

"......Fine....everyone for the rest of the class just....work in your notebooks....I'll be at my desk..." she spoke her voice nothing more than a hushed whisper laced in defeat.

Tiffany gave a small smile looking over at Chucky still slightly red, "thank you"

The brunette felt his face begin to warm, trying to hide his already shy smile, "Yeah no problem"

[thedancingcockroach134]

Serious story from a Furrian (Furry and Therian)

"Furry Girl!", "Kill yourself!", "Awoo!", "Nobody wants you here! Nobody wants a Furry ass wetback like you!" More and more is told in front of my face or back every single day. This is sick and tiring, especially since they know that I have depression. School makes me being a Furry feel like I should be a closeted one. Only a few people respect me at school, but the whole 6th grade tells me very horrible stuff. I wonder what it's like to be appreciated and loved at school. I wonder what it's like to not be told to kill yourself and have so many friends. I wonder what it's like to not have been spreaded with rumors which caused me to almost get in a fight with something over something not true. I wonder what it's like to not be physically and verbally abused everyday. I wonder what it's like to not have an ex boyfriend that talks shit about you in front of people and forced you to sit on his lap. People at school know what I go through, most of them just don't care. People treat me like this for what? Because I'm a Furry and a Therian! People at school record me, post pictures of my other therian friend on Instagram, treat the 3 of us therian besties as shit for what? Being different and having different hobbies. I cry almost everyday at school, but I never tell my friends! My own friends! I one time got cornered by a group of boys and they were talking shit to me and asking me why I was a Furry and a "animal rapist". (They called me an animal rapist because I'm a Therian! Like, what the fuck?!) They were all laughing and one of them slapped me on the face. They did that while I was cornered! I almost get in fights for being a Furry and a Therian. Seriously, the boys were trying to jump me before just because I was a what? A Furry and a Therian. My math teacher embarrassed me in front of my class. She was using me as an example to a fraction problem and said "Now, Imma act like [My dead name]! The only thing I think of is animals and Furries!" Everyone was laughing at me and I almost cried. She knew what the hell she was fucking doing! I cried in my sleep because her sentence repeated over and over in my head, and so was other peoples. I just hate how society odds out specific hobbies, beliefs, or personalities.

Example:

Furrian: "Hello, friend!"

"Good" person: "Hello! What do you like to do?"

Furrian: "Oh, I'm a Furry and a Therian, so I like dressing up in my own anthropomorphic (did i spell it wrong?) character and I do quads-"

"Good" person: Oh! So you have sex with animals?! Bye! I hope you lose your virginity to an animal and die! Oh wait, you already did! Just go and die! Kill yourself!

Like, come on?! Are you really gonna start acting like that when you first encounter a Furrian? That shit is something I have to go through everyday. Trust me, in real life, it's sad. Guys, just don't bully furries or therians. Some of them could be suicidal and/or are depressed. I met a suicidal Furrian online. I helped them (It was a Non-Binary Furry and Therian) I just wish nobody ditched us for 2 specific or more things.

[staggersz]

Finney and Robin r so silly they do that thing where they bounce their leg in class and sometimes it will make their chair squeak slightly, but they won’t realize it until half the class is staring at them because there’s a ongoing squeaking in the DEAD SILENT classroom.

OMG THEY 100% DO THIS

Finney’s anxiety just comes in English just because I feel like sometimes he’s looking at his paper like “wtf is this .” and doesn’t know what to do and then his leg starts bouncing and people are immediately glancing and he’s just like “oh come on 😞” Billy is next to him like “hey dude it okay :)”

Robin’s leg bouncing in math class is the WORST he can’t understand fractions, he hates multi-step equations, he doesn’t know a single thing on how to solve percentages because of his dyscalculia and it stresses him out and just the whole period you hear his leg bouncing and Finney gets like concerned about it and tries helping him through the problem as it’s being explained

[bludraws094]

I am in 2 collage math classes but if someone ties me to a chair with angry dogs under me and asks me to do fractions I’d ask to be dropped

I really can’t do fractions :(

I HATE FRACTIONS SO MUCH

[fairykukla]

The only time in my academic career that I was given an official reprimand, written in my permanent record, was in 6th grade when I went on strike from my math homework.

I was in the remedial math class, and my teacher's name was Coach.

We drilled in addition, subtraction, multiplication and division. We had to fill out a worksheet in class of 100 problems, then do a different one for homework.

In 6th grade.

In fact, Coach wanted to fail me for the year. I hadn't turned in more than a handful of worksheets, despite the write up.

I had to go to summer school in order to go to 7th grade.

The first week of summer school, we did a speed run through arithmetic so that our teacher could evaluate our skill set. There was no homework.

Then she started teaching us 6th grade math. We did do some fractions and decimal work, and that was at least interesting.

Then she wrote an x on the board. She started us on prep algebra.

Math was always difficult. Traumatizing, even. I slogged through arithmetic and stalked and struggled. I hated it.

But she showed us how to solve for X and I lost my mind. "This is *for* something!?! You. An use math for a reason!?!"

I loved baking. My mom had taught me how to follow a recipe, and showed me how to adjust if we were short on an ingredient. (2 eggs instead of 3, for example.)

I had been doing algebra in my head since I was old enough to reach the counters.

And now I was being shown how to work out increasingly complicated puzzles. And I was GOOD.

We did have homework, but it was really because we were cramming all of 6th grade math into about 6 weeks. Shed get us going on a concept, and have us work on it at home. I was flying through that homework even though I was on my summer vacation.

As it happens, I had to stay with a neighbor while my family went on vacation to the lake during my summer school. My mom got back into town just in time to go to the conference with my teacher.

The teacher was tickled to death to meet my mom. "Your child is real pleasure to have in.ky class. It's always truly inspiring to work with kids that love learning so much that they volunteer for Summer School."

My mo actually said, "Uh, thanks, but uh, I think you have the wrong kid. My kid is Fairykukla. She failed 6th grade math, that's why she's here."

"I find that hard to believe, but yes, Fairykukla. You should be very proud. She absorbs the material very quickly and has scored very high on the tests."

"Ok, but how is she on homework?"

"What do you mean? She always turns her homework in on time."

My mother was utterly bewildered. She spoke to me about it, and I babbled excitedly about how it's like adjusting a recipe and OMG why didn't anyone TELL me math was FOR something and the homework was important because I didn't want to fall behind in the next class and no, it wasn't hard and sometimes I'd try to get to class early so I could ask a question about the homework.

Busywork is bad. Any homework that seemed like busywork infuriated me, even as early as 1st or 2nd grade. Mom says I whined and complained about how I just had to do this at school, why do I have to do it again at home? During the Homework Strike, I pointed out that I'd caught the teacher giving Monday's in class worksheet as Tuesday's homework. I didn't learn a single thing that year, except that a teacher named Coach should only be teaching gym class.

Homework should be reserved for long-term projects, not daily busywork. And if I'm honest, even the long term projects should have classroom time allowed for them.

Mom declares her daughter is done with homework in viral email.

Blogger Bunmi Laditan sent her 10-year-old’s school a clear message.

“Hello Maya’s teachers,

Maya will be drastically reducing the amount of homework she does this year. She’s been very stressed and is starting to have physical symptoms such as chest pain and waking up at 4 a.m. worrying about her school workload.

She’s not behind academically and very much enjoys school. We consulted with a tutor and a therapist suggested we lighten her workload. Doing 2-3 hours of homework after getting home at 4:30 is leaving little time for her to just be a child and enjoy family time and we’d like to avoid her sinking into a depression over this.”

[glowinggreenfrog]

I always thought I was bad at math and I felt I got distracted too much because numbers gave me anxiety. I always had questions that couldn’t be answered. Turns out, this is a complicated math problem.

I told my BF this once, he asked for an example. I said I always didn’t like my birthday, because it is Oct. 5 written 10/05. 10 can divide evenly, but 5 cannot. But two 5’s make ten. 5 is important. I thought about that a lot. Why? Why is that? Unless we do fractions, but we have to destroy then. Are even numbers unnatural? I decided I like 5 now, it is special. Any number 5 ends in 5 and is multiplied by 5 is even. And at least 2x5=10. I liked algebra a lot. I hated any other math. But, 7. 7 is such a dilemma. I can add evenly 2 from 5, or 3 and 4 but I can’t add 3 to make another odd number from 5. So is 9. It turns even when there are 2.

He didn’t get it.

I learned about the number 37, and wow those are prime numbers. And prime numbers are infinite. I’ve been thinking about this every-time I looked at a number. For years. I’ve been thinking about this before I go to bed for years. Like a simple math thought. So maybe I’m not bad at math at all, just had really dumb teachers.

Eventually I was in a lower math class. I had a 92 in algebra, but was terrible at math the next year. I had a kid in my class who was good at mental math, and finding alternative responses and we had a teacher who was young, who enjoyed showing why his rule wouldn’t work. But…sometimes it would. We need more math teachers and curriculum that can take the time to do that.

[alsjeblieft-zeg]

478 of 2023

Do you ever have days where you just don’t do anything?

No, I can't stay doing nothing for too long. I have to do something.

Have you ever been extremely tired but refused to go to sleep?

No, usually I fall asleep anyway.

What is your favorite episode of True Life, if you have one at all?

I've never heard of it.

Have you ever experienced something paranormal?

Yeah, the existence of my cats. I'm pretty sure cats are aliens, but they're such lovely and beautiful ones <3

What’s the longest amount of time you’ve been stuck in traffic?

Three hours. Going home while in Germany, be like.

Best field trip experience?

There's so many to talk about. I love everything I travel to.

Have you ever been to New York City?

No, but I would like to.

If so, is it all its cracked up to be?

Haven't been there yet.

What is the most amount of money you’ve spent on a meal before?

100€, but for three people.

What museums have you visited, if any?

A few historical museums, and the museum of beer in my city.

Have you ever had a group project and one of your partners bailed on you?

Yeah, this is why I dislike group projects.

What’s your worst travelling experience?

Probably forgetting things.

Sims 1, 2, or 3? Why?

No, thanks.

Have you ever dealt with noisy neighbors or roommates? How did that go?

Yeah, with that Dutch wanker. The police was a frequent guest on our street.

Who was (or is) the teacher that gave you the hardest time in school?

That one in primary school.

Best muffin you’ve ever had?

Ew, muffins. I don't eat that.

Have you ever taken a woodshop class?

Yeah, it was fun.

How much time do you spend on Facebook, if you have one?

I don't have one.

What area of math are you best at? Worst?

Best: fractions, logic and geometry. Worst: algebra.

How do you feel when you meet someone with the same music taste as you?

I have yet to meet that person. People usually don't even know the music to listen to.

What is the strangest thing you’ve ever seen outside of your house?

Our local statue being all wrapped in toilet paper.

Do you believe in luck? Why or why not?

I do, because I escaped death twice.

How often do you “half-ass” things (put little effort in)?

Sometimes, but I try to do everything at once.

Do you ever feel self-conscious when you eat around other people?

Very much so. I don't like to eat in public.

Has a teacher ever made you hate yourself/your work?

Yeah. Old story, though.