#Polynomials Class

[whumpwordsoftheday]

“I can’t do this anymore, I just-I just can’t. If you’re going to kill me then do it already, I can’t keep going on like this”

[nexus-nebulae]

man i hate that one teacher ruined the whole concept of math for me bc i love physics and string theory and chemistry and all that stuff but every time I'm watching a video about it i hear like. specific algebraic concepts and i immediately lose all interest

[krawdad]

I would have done so much better at calculus if someone had explained to me what FM synthesis was

[anagram-for-mongo]

Nothing quite like scoring a 36% on a placement test for a mandatory class

[gyuuberryy]

extra credit!

pairing: tutor!jungwon x downbad!reader

synopsis: getting tutored by the smartest guy in school should’ve helped your grades—not tanked your dignity. jungwon thinks you’re flirting to distract him from actual studying, and the more you try to act normal, the more he seems to think you’re in love with him. which, okay, maybe you are. but that’s not the point. unfortunately, there’s no syllabus for surviving weekly sessions with your crush when every word you say sounds like a love confession.

genre: highschool au, crack, slowburn, fluff, slight angst

warnings: reader is embarrassingly down bad, some kissing

note: this is like my second tutor!jungwon fic🙏🏻 why don't tutors like this exist irl. anyway enjoy reading!!

word count: 8.2k

if you liked it please reblog or comment to give me your feedback! <3

2k event | previous | next

you didn’t ask to be tutored by jungwon. 

in fact, you were actively hoping the school would forget about your tragic math grades entirely—like, maybe the universe would take pity on you and spontaneously erase the concept of vectors from existence. but when your teacher announced you’d be getting help from the yang jungwon, top student in your year, you knew you were doomed.

walking to the library now, your stomach twisted in a way that had nothing to do with the questionable cafeteria lunch. jungwon was everything you weren’t—composed where you were a mess, effortlessly intelligent where your brain short-circuited at basic equations, terrifyingly observant when you could barely remember your own schedule. and, because the universe hated you, he was also stupidly attractive.

you’d noticed it the first time you saw him in your class, head tilted as he scribbled something in a notebook, his brow furrowed in concentration. his uniform always looked annoyingly perfect, like he’d stepped out of some academic themed photoshoot, while yours was perpetually wrinkled and half tucked. and his voice—god, his voice was unfairly soft, which made your stupid heart stutter when he answered questions in class.

of course, you’d never admit any of this out loud. you weren’t even sure when the crush had started—maybe when he’d stayed after school to help a lost freshman find their classroom, or when he’d laughed at some dumb joke in the cafeteria and his nose scrunched up in a way that made your chest ache. it didn’t matter. what mattered was that now, you were about to sit across from him for an hour every week, trying not to combust while he explained polynomials or whatever.

you paused outside the library doors, taking a deep breath. act normal. don’t say anything weird. don’t stare at his hands. don’t—

the door swung open before you could finish your mental pep talk, and there he was, blinking at you like he’d been waiting. 

“you’re late,” jungwon said, but there was no real annoyance in his tone, just that quiet amusement that always made you feel like he knew something you didn’t.

“traffic,” you deadpanned, then immediately wanted to kick yourself. traffic? you walked here.

jungwon’s lips twitched. “right.” 

he stepped aside to let you in and as you brushed past him, you caught the faint scent of his laundry detergent—something clean and warm, like sunlight. great. now you were sniffing him.

this was going to be a disaster.

you had promised yourself you’d act normal. no weird jokes, no nervous rambling, definitely no accidental slips of the tongue that would make him think you were even more of a mess than he already did. you’d rehearsed it in your head all morning.

but then, barely ten minutes into your first study session, your traitorous mouth betrayed you in the worst possible way.

“so if you move the x over here—” jungwon was saying, his voice calm and measured like he wasn’t currently explaining something that might as well have been ancient Sumerian to you. you were nodding along like you understood, gripping your pen so tight your knuckles were turning white, when he paused and glanced at you. “got it?”

“yes, sir—i mean, jungwon,” you blurted out, the words tumbling out before your brain could catch up.

the second it left your mouth, your entire body went rigid. no. no no no. you didn’t just say that. you didn’t.

jungwon didn’t laugh. he didn’t even smirk. he just—stopped. his pencil hovered mid air, and for one horrifying second, you swore his eyes flickered with something unreadable before he slowly, painfully deliberately, raised an eyebrow at you. like he was mentally adding this to a list titled reasons my tutoring student might be insane.

then, without a single comment, he went right back to explaining the equation, as if you hadn’t just shattered your own dignity into a million tiny pieces.

you wanted to die. you wanted to melt into a puddle and seep through the library floorboards. you wanted to invent time travel just so you could go back and slap your past self before those cursed words could escape. but instead, you just sat there, your face burning so hot you were surprised your skin wasn’t peeling off, and pretended to focus on the worksheet like your life depended on it.

which—ha. focus? impossible. the numbers on the page blurred together, your brain too busy short circuiting over the fact that yang jungwon was sitting right there, close enough that you could see the way his dark lashes fanned against his cheeks when he looked down at the paper, the faint crease between his brows as he worked through the problem. his fingers were long and slender, his nails neatly trimmed—of course even his hands were perfect—and every time he tapped his pencil against the page, you swore your heartbeat synced up with the rhythm.

then it got worse.

he leaned over to point out a mistake in your work, his arm brushing against yours, and—oh.

his sleeve was soft against your skin, the warmth of him seeping into you like sunlight, and suddenly, breathing felt like an advanced skill you hadn’t mastered yet. your lungs forgot how to function. your throat went dry. you could smell his shampoo, something clean and subtly sweet, and it was distracting in a way that should’ve been illegal.

you fake coughed into your elbow, desperate to disguise the way your breath hitched, but the damage was already done. your brain had officially abandoned all rational thought, leaving behind only static and the frantic, looping mantra of don’t freak out don’t freak out don’t freak out—

but you were freaking out. and your hands, apparently operating on pure panic autopilot, decided the best course of action was to start doodling in the margins of your notebook like a middle schooler with a crush.

you weren’t even paying attention to what you were drawing—just desperate to do something with the nervous energy buzzing under your skin. your pencil moved on its own, sketching lazy shapes, swirls, half formed equations you’d already given up on understanding. and then, because you seemed to be your biggest enemy, your subconscious took over.

you didn’t even realise what you’d written until jungwon’s voice cut through the silence, slow and deliberate.

“god of math… and my heart?”

your entire body locked up.

your pen slipped from your fingers, clattering against the table before rolling off the edge, but you didn’t even move to catch it. you just stared, numb with horror at the evidence of your own humiliation: right there, in messy, ink-smudged letters, surrounded by half hearted calculations and a poorly drawn heart, were the words god of math… and my heart?

your eyes snapped up to meet his.

jungwon was staring at you. not just glancing, not just mildly curious—full-on staring, his dark eyes flickering between your face and the notebook like he was trying to decide if you were joking or if he needed to call for a mental health intervention. his lips were slightly parted, his expression caught somewhere between disbelief and way too much amusement for your sanity to handle.

your soul left your body.

“that’s—it’s not—” you stammered, your voice coming out strangled as you slapped your hand over the doodle like that could somehow erase it from existence. but it was too late. he’d seen it. he’d read it. there was no coming back from this.

jungwon tilted his head, the corner of his mouth twitching. “so,” he said, dragging the word out like he was savouring your suffering, “are we here to study math… or feelings?”

your face was on fire. you were pretty sure you’d stopped breathing altogether. somewhere in the distance, you could hear the faint sound of a librarian shushing a group of freshmen, the rustle of pages turning, the hum of the overhead lights—normal, everyday sounds that felt completely detached from the reality where you had just accidentally confessed to jungwon via notebook doodle.

“i—that’s not—oh my god,” you choked out, burying your face in your hands. “can we pretend i never picked up a pen?”

jungwon let out a quiet huff of laughter—actual laughter, warm and low and devastating to your already fragile composure, before sliding the worksheet back toward you. 

“focus,” he said, his voice light but firm, like he wasn’t the entire reason you couldn’t. “we’re on question three.”

you swallowed hard, staring down at the paper like it held the answers to all your problems. but the numbers might as well have been dancing. your heart was pounding so loud you were surprised he couldn’t hear it.

this was going to be the longest tutoring session of your life.

the next session started with an immediate, glaring difference that made your stomach drop the moment you slid into your usual seat: jungwon had positioned himself a full twelve inches further away than normal. not enough to be obvious to anyone else, but enough that you noticed immediately—enough that the space between you suddenly felt calculated, deliberate, like he'd used a ruler to measure out the exact distance required to maintain proper tutor-student boundaries while still being able to pass you worksheets. his posture was still picture perfect, his notes still organised with military precision, but there was a new tension in his shoulders that hadn't been there before, a carefulness to his movements that made your palms sweat.

he was polite—painfully so—with that same quiet professionalism he always had, but his voice carried a new kind of measured calmness. you couldn't even blame him. not after last time. not after the doodle. not after you'd basically turned into a malfunctioning robot every time he so much as breathed in your direction.

you tried desperately not to stare at the way the library's fluorescent lights caught the subtle highlights in his hair, or how his long fingers tapped rhythmically against the edge of the textbook—one two three, pause, one two three—a nervous habit you'd never noticed before. you tried to focus on the equations swimming across your notebook page, but the numbers might as well have been written in hieroglyphics for all the sense they made to your currently short-circuiting brain. 

was he uncomfortable? had you made him uncomfortable? the thought made your stomach twist violently. you hadn't meant for any of this to happen. that stupid doodle had just... appeared, like some kind of subconscious betrayal, and now you were paying the price for it in the form of this excruciatingly careful distance jungwon was maintaining between you.

then, just as he was midway through explaining some godforsaken exponent rule—his voice smooth and steady like he wasn't currently dismantling your entire nervous system—he paused. his pencil hovered over the page, and for one heart stopping moment you thought he'd caught another glaring error in your work, but then he glanced up at you through his unfairly long lashes, his dark eyes utterly unreadable and dropped the verbal equivalent of a grenade into your lap with terrifying casualness: "you don't have to flirt to get out of studying, you know."

the world stopped spinning.

your brain short circuited so violently you could practically hear the fizzle of your neurons giving up. your mouth fell open, then snapped shut, then opened again like a malfunctioning marionette as every single thought in your head evaporated at once. 

"i wasn't flirting!" you blurted out, far too loudly, earning an immediate and aggressive "shhhh!" from the librarian three tables over. 

your face burned so hot you were surprised your skin didn't melt off, but the words kept tumbling out in a desperate, rambling avalanche. 

"i just—you're very well-spoken! i mean—not that i notice that! i don't think about your voice at all, ever. like, not even a little. it's just a normal voice. a totally unremarkable, not-smooth, not-nice-to-listen-to voice—"

the moment the words left your mouth felt like deja vu,because you wanted to die again. wanted to spontaneously combust. wanted the library floor to open up and swallow you whole because oh god, you'd just insulted his voice while trying to compliment it, and now he was definitely going to think you were either insane or the world's worst liar—which, honestly, you might be at this point.

jungwon's expression didn't so much as flicker. he just looked at you with that same infuriatingly neutral face, though you could have sworn you saw the faintest glimmer of something in his eyes—amusement? disbelief? sheer existential despair at having to tutor someone this socially incompetent?—before he turned back to the textbook with the air of a man who had seen too much. 

"right," he said, his voice drier than the sahara, "let's just... focus on the math."

you swallowed hard enough to hurt your throat, nodding like one of those bobblehead dolls as you attempted to glue your attention to the worksheet in front of you. but the numbers blurred together, your thoughts a chaotic whirlwind of oh god oh god oh god and why can't i be normal for five seconds and please let me disappear right now. the air between you felt thick enough to choke on, every rustle of paper, every shift in posture amplified to deafening levels in the silence.

what followed was nothing short of a masterclass in humiliation. every attempt you made to contribute to the lesson ended in disaster.

"so if x equals... uh... the thing that's... not y?" you stammered at one point, watching in real-time as jungwon's eyebrows crept higher up his forehead like they were trying to escape your nonsense. 

when you reached for your pen, your butterfingers decided to send it clattering to the floor with a noise that echoed through the entire library. you lunged after it like your life depended on it, only to smash your knee against the table leg hard enough to make the textbooks jump. 

"i'm fine!" you hissed through gritted teeth, rubbing your throbbing knee as jungwon stared at you with the expression of a man seriously reconsidering his volunteer work at as a tutor.

by the time the session limped to its merciful conclusion, you were a shell of a human being. your notes looked like they'd been taken by someone having a stroke, half legible equations interspersed with frantic scribbles and the occasional subconscious doodle that you immediately scratched out before it could betray you again. your dignity had long since packed its bags and left the country. and jungwon? he just gathered his things with that same infuriating calm, slinging his bag over his shoulder with effortless grace before pausing to look at you one last time.

"next time," he said, his voice low enough that only you could hear it, "just tell me if you don't understand something." a beat. "it's less... dramatic."

then he was gone, leaving you sitting there with your face burning, your heart pounding, and the sinking realisation that you now had approximately six days, fourteen hours, and twenty three minutes to figure out how to face him again without spontaneously combusting from sheer embarrassment.

the moment your head hit the pillow that night, your brain decided to stage the world’s most brutal highlight reel of every single embarrassing interaction you’d ever had with jungwon. you squeezed your eyes shut, but the memories played in vivid technicolour behind your eyelids, each one more excruciating than the last.

first, the meme incident. you’d meant to send him a screenshot of the math problem you were struggling with, but instead, you had somehow selected and sent an entirely different screenshot from your camera roll: a stupid meme that just said "i want you" in bold, gliterry letters. 

you’d realised your mistake immediately, frantically typing "NO I MEANT TO SEND THE MATH PROBLEM I NEED HELP" in all caps, but the damage was done. 

jungwon had left you on read for a full twenty minutes before responding with nothing but a dry "question 3.7 is on page 46." no mention of the meme. no acknowledgement of your mortified follow up messages. just math. always math.

then there was the handwriting debacle. last week, when he’d written out a particularly complex formula in his annoyingly perfect script with each number and symbol aligned with geometric precision, you’d blurted out, "your handwriting is so nice, i bet your love letters are pretty." 

the second the words left your mouth, your soul had left your body. jungwon had just blinked at you, his expression completely blank, before slowly sliding the notebook back toward you and saying, "focus. we’re on question five."

and now today. today. the way he’d looked at you when you’d tripped over your own words, your own pen, your own damn feet—like he was watching some tragic comedy where you were the unwilling star. the worst part was he never called you out on any of it. never laughed, never teased, never even acknowledged the sheer magnitude of your awkwardness. he just stared at you with that unreadable expression, those dark eyes giving nothing away, and continued tutoring like you weren’t slowly combusting in your seat.

you groaned into your pillow, rolling onto your stomach and pressing your face into the mattress like you could suffocate the memories away. why couldn’t you just be normal around him? why did your brain short-circuit every time he so much as glanced in your direction? why did your mouth betray you with increasingly unhinged comments that you would never say to anyone else?

outside your window, a car passed by, its headlights casting fleeting shadows across your bedroom walls. you stared at the ceiling, your chest tight with something between frustration and longing. 

part of you wished he would just call you out on it—laugh at you, tease you, anything to break this unbearable tension. at least then you’d know what he was thinking. at least then you could stop wondering if he pitied you, if he was uncomfortable, if he was counting down the minutes until these tutoring sessions were over.

but he didn’t. he just kept showing up, kept explaining equations with that same calm patience, kept sitting just a little too far away, close enough to teach, far enough to remind you that whatever this was, it was strictly academic.

the weird air conditioner of the library hummed softly overhead, as jungwon watched you fumble with your notebook for what felt like the hundredth time that session. 

your pencil—the third one you'd dropped in the past twenty minutes, slipped from your grasp again, rolling across the table toward him with a quiet clatter that echoed unnaturally loud in the nearly empty library.  he caught it effortlessly between his long fingers, the movement so smooth it was almost frustrating, and when his fingertips brushed against yours as he handed it back, you inhaled sharply like you'd been shocked, jerking your hand away way too fast and nearly knocking over your half empty water bottle in the process.

"thanks," you mumbled, staring down at your work like held the secrets of the universe rather than just being a series of meaningless numbers that refused to make sense no matter how long you stared at them. the numbers blurred together as you became hyper aware of every tiny detail, how close his arm was to yours on the table, the way his sleeve brushed against your wrist every time he reached to point something out, the faint scent of his laundry detergent that somehow made even the musty library air smell better.

jungwon cleared his throat in that careful way he always did when he was about to say something he'd clearly rehearsed in his head first, and you could practically see him mentally selecting each word before speaking. "you're getting better at these," he said, tapping the paper where you'd actually managed to solve one problem correctly against all odds. 

his voice was still calm and measured like always, but there was something softer in his tone today, something almost encouraging that made your traitorous heart skip a beat. "just need to watch your signs when you—"

"i got a B!" you suddenly blurted out, slapping your quiz paper onto the table with way more force than necessary, the sound reverberating through the quiet library like a gunshot. 

"on the last quiz! i mean, it's not an A or anything, and there's still like three red marks where i clearly didn't know what i was doing, but considering i was barely scraping D's before and mrs. kim said i might have to retake the class if i didn't improve and—"

and then, before your brain could catch up with your body's terrible decisions, you threw your arms around him in a burst of pure, unfiltered excitement that immediately turned into pure, unfiltered panic the second you made contact. you froze, suddenly hyperaware of every point where your bodies touched—how warm he was despite the library's aggressive air conditioning, how nice he smelled— like fresh cotton and something faintly minty with just a hint of citrus, how his breath hitched almost imperceptibly against your shoulder before his entire body went rigid with surprise.

you sprang back so fast your chair screeched against the floor, "oh my god, i'm so sorry, i don't know why i did that, that was completely inappropriate, i swear i wasn't trying to— i mean, i know we're not— i should've just—"

"it's fine," jungwon interrupted, his ears turning a shade of pink you'd never seen before and that you immediately committed to memory. 

he adjusted his collar unnecessarily, like he needed something to do with his suddenly fidgety hands, and you noticed the way his fingers trembled slightly before he clasped them together on the table. 

"you... you earned that B. good job." his voice sounded slightly strangled, like he was fighting to keep it steady while he was clearly flustered just as much as you were.

an awkward silence settled over you both that was so thick you could practically choke on it. you stared down at your hands, willing the burning in your cheeks to subside even as you could feel the heat spreading down your neck, while jungwon cleared his throat for what felt like the hundredth time and opened his planner with slightly too much force, scribbling something quickly before turning back to your work with forced professionalism.

"let's look at the ones you missed," he said, his voice steadier now but still not quite meeting your eyes, like he was forcing himself back into tutor mode through sheer willpower alone.

you nodded mutely, sneaking a glance at his planner when he wasn't looking (which was definitely an invasion of privacy but you were way past caring at this point). in the margin, in his annoyingly perfect handwriting that you'd secretly tried to imitate more than once, you could just make out: "focus: not how happy she looks right now" with the last three words crossed out messily but not completely, like he'd regretted writing them but couldn't bring himself to fully erase them either. the sight made something warm and fluttery settle in your chest despite your embarrassment.

the next week found you both in the library past closing time, the only ones left under the dimmed lights that cast long shadows across the tables. your head drooped dangerously close to your textbook as exhaustion weighed on you, your eyes struggling to stay open after hours of studying and what felt like gallons of terrible library coffee. the numbers on the page had started swimming together about thirty minutes ago, and you were pretty sure the last equation you'd written down was actually just nonsense at this point.

"maybe we should call it a night," jungwon suggested, packing his things with his usual quiet efficiency but moving slower than normal, like he was just as tired as you were. 

there was a faint smudge of ink on his cheek from where he'd absentmindedly rubbed his face earlier, and you had to physically restrain yourself from reaching out to wipe it away.

you lifted your head blearily, taking in the way the soft golden light caught his sharp features, highlighting the tired shadows under his eyes that made him look oddly vulnerable. his usually perfect hair was slightly mussed from running his hands through it one too many times, and a few dark strands fell into his eyes in a way that made your fingers itch to push them back. 

"mmm, but you're so cute when you're focused," you murmured without thinking, your sleep-deprived brain-to-mouth filter completely malfunctioning as the words slipped out in a drowsy mumble.

the second the words left your mouth, your eyes flew open wide as every ounce of drowsiness fled your body in a rush of sheer panic. jungwon's hands stilled on his notebook, his entire body going rigid like he'd been electrocuted. you watched in horrified fascination as a slow, creeping flush travelled up his neck, staining his cheeks a pink so vivid you could see it even in the dim lighting.

"i mean—! i mean you're very—! the way you explain things is—!" you buried your face in your hands with a groan, your voice muffled against your palms. "i'm going to walk into traffic. just push me into the street, it'll be kinder for everyone involved."

to your utter shock, jungwon let out a quiet huff of laughter, the sound so soft you almost missed it but so genuine it made your chest ache. "just go home and sleep," he said, his voice warmer than you'd ever heard it, with a fondness that made your traitorous heart skip several beats. 

"we'll pick this up tomorrow." he hesitated for a second before adding, almost too quiet to hear, "and... thanks. i guess."

the following afternoon, you slid a bubble tea across the table toward him without meeting his eyes, the condensation from the cup leaving a wet trail on the wooden surface. 

"here. for, uh. being smart. and stuff." you'd spent an embarrassing amount of time at the boba shop that morning agonising over which flavour to get him before remembering he'd mentioned liking taro once in passing months ago.

jungwon stared at the drink, then at you, his eyebrows inching upward toward his hairline in a way that would've been comical if you weren't currently dying inside. 

"you're thanking me... for being smart?" he asked slowly, like he was trying to parse some complex equation from your words.

"shut up," you groaned, taking an aggressive sip of your own drink to avoid having to explain further, the too-sweet strawberry flavour bursting across your tongue. 

jungwon's lips twitched in that barely-there smile you'd come to live for as he poked the straw through the seal, taking a slow, deliberate sip. the way his eyes lit up at the taste— like he was genuinely surprised you'd remembered his favourite flavour—made your stomach flip wildly, and you had to look away before you did something even more embarrassing than usual.

"it's good," he admitted after a moment, his voice softer than you'd ever heard it. 

"thanks." he took another sip, and you didn't miss the way his shoulders relaxed slightly, like the simple act of drinking something you'd brought him had unwound some tightly coiled tension in him.

"no problem," you muttered, not being able to fight the smile tugging at your lips, the way your chest felt weirdly light at the small victory of making him happy, even just a little. you pretended to focus on your notebook to hide your expression, but from the corner of your eye, you could see jungwon sneak glances at you between sips, his expression unreadable but his ears still faintly pink.

the final straw came during a group study session in the cafeteria, where you'd somehow gotten roped into joining jungwon and a few of his classmates at their usual table. the noise and chaos of the crowded lunch period should've made it easier to blend in, but you felt hyper aware of every glance, every movement, especially with jungwon sitting so close his knee kept brushing against yours under the table.

one of the guys from your class—park jisung, who thought way too highly of himself and had never met a mirror he didn't like—leaned over and scoffed at jungwon's neatly pressed white button down, his nose wrinkling in exaggerated distaste. 

"don't you ever wear anything that isn't so... boring?" jisung sneered, gesturing to his own aggressively trendy outfit like it was some kind of fashion revelation rather than looking like he'd fallen into a rack at hot topic. "i mean, come on, it's like you're trying to blend in with the walls."

before jungwon could even open his mouth to respond—not that he ever really bothered defending himself against stupid comments like this, you snapped, "at least he's hot," loud enough for the entire table to hear. 

the moment the words left your mouth, your brain caught up with your traitorous tongue, and the table erupted into laughter and wolf whistles that made you want to crawl under the table and die. you buried your face in your hands with a strangled groan, your entire body burning with humiliation as jisung made exaggerated kissy faces at you both.

when you dared to peek through your fingers, jungwon was staring at you with an expression you couldn't quite decipher. his ears were bright red, his lips slightly parted in surprise, but there was something dangerously close to amusement in his eyes, something almost fond as he calmly turned back to his notes like you hadn't just publicly declared him attractive in front of half your classmates. but you didn't miss the way his fingers trembled slightly as he flipped a page, or how he kept biting his lower lip like he was fighting a smile.

you pressed your cold hands to your burning face, wondering how much longer you could keep this up before you actually died of embarrassment. but judging by the way jungwon kept sneaking glances at you when he thought you weren't looking, the way his lips quirked up whenever you said something particularly ridiculous, the way he'd started sitting just a little bit closer during study sessions— it felt like you weren't the only one feeling this way. and that thought was terrifying and exhilarating in equal measure.

you'd been stuck on the same problem for what felt like hours, the pencil between your teeth nearly chewed to splinters when suddenly—

"you're doing it again."

jungwon's voice made you jump, your knee slamming against the underside of the table hard enough to make your eyes water. his hand appeared in your line of vision, gently prying the mangled pencil from your mouth and replacing it with a fresh one and —oh god—your favourite mint gum. 

"you’ll get lead poisoning at this rate," he said, his voice dry but his eyes oddly soft.

you unwrapped the gum with trembling fingers, the mint bursting sharp and sudden on your tongue. "how do you always know when i'm about to chew through another pencil?" you stammered, immediately cursing yourself for how breathy your voice sounded.

he shrugged, but you didn't miss the way his lips twitched at the corners. "you get this... look." he mimicked your frustrated pout, his face scrunching up in a way that should not have been as adorable as it was. "like the numbers personally offended you." 

his finger tapped your notebook, the sound startlingly loud in the quiet library. "now focus. midterms are next week."

"i know, i know," you groaned, slumping so low in your seat you were practically sliding under the table. "i just can't get this integration method to click in my stupid brain." you immediately regretted calling your brain stupid in front of him, your cheeks burning as you stared resolutely at your hands.

jungwon sighed, and then scooted his chair closer, his arm brushing against yours as he leaned over your paper. you could smell his delicious smelling shampoo once again and it took every ounce of willpower not to visibly sniff him like some kind of creep. 

"okay, watch," he murmured, his neat handwriting filling the margins of your notebook as he walked you through the steps. when you still looked confused, he huffed a quiet laugh that sent shivers down your spine. "you're overcomplicating it. it's just—"

"like reverse differentiation!" you blurted out too loudly, immediately slapping a hand over your mouth when the librarian glared at you(you had made a new enemy at this point). 

the concept had finally clicked, and in your excitement you'd momentarily forgotten where you were. "sorry, sorry," you whispered, shrinking into yourself. "i just... get it now."

the smile jungwon gave you then was devastating—all crinkled eyes, so different from his usual composed expression. "there you go." 

he reached into his bag and your heart stopped when his fingers brushed against yours as he slid a package of your favourite peach gummies toward you. "reward for the breakthrough."

you stared at the candy like it was some kind of alien artifact. "how do you even remember these are my favourite?" your voice came out embarrassingly high-pitched. "i mentioned that like one time months ago when we first—"

"i have a good memory," he interrupted, suddenly very focused on organising his already perfect notes. you didn't miss the faint pink tint to his ears though, and it made something warm and fluttery settle in your chest.

the following week found you drowning in midterm stress, your forehead pressed against the cool library table as you groaned dramatically. you didn't even hear jungwon approach until a warm cup of coffee was set down right next to your face—caramel latte with extra whipped cream, exactly how you always ordered it.

you sat up so fast you nearly headbutted him. "jungwon! i didn't— when did you—"

"thought you might need this," he said casually, taking the seat across from you like he hadn't just materialised out of your wildest dreams holding your favourite drink. his own black coffee looked bitter and depressing in comparison.

you wrapped your hands around the warm cup, frowning. "but the coffee shop is all the way across campus. don't you have class in like..." you checked your phone, "ten minutes?"

jungwon glanced at his watch with exaggerated seriousness. "eight actually. plenty of time." he took a sip of his black coffee before pulling out his notes, and you tried very hard not to stare at his throat as he swallowed. 

the session passed in its usual blur of numbers and formulas, but when you packed up to leave, jungwon didn't immediately bolt like he normally did. instead, he slowly, almost deliberately gathered his things, waiting until you'd zipped your backpack before asking, "how was your weekend?"

you froze, your fingers slipping on the zipper. jungwon didn't do small talk. jungwon especially didn't do small talk with you. 

"uh, good?" you squeaked, mentally cursing yourself. "i finally tried that new bubble tea place near the dorms."

"the one with the peach oolong you've been talking about?" he asked, shouldering his bag with infuriating grace.

your mouth fell open. "you remember that?"

he shrugged, but his ears were definitely pinker than they'd been a minute ago. "you mentioned it a few times. was it good?"

"yeah! it was amazing. you should—" you cut yourself off before you could blurt out 'you should go with me sometime,' nearly biting your tongue in the process. that would be too much, right? way too forward? he was just being nice because he was your tutor, not because he actually wanted to—

"maybe i will," he said quietly, interrupting your mental spiral. then, after a beat too long where you both just stood there awkwardly, he added, "see you wednesday," before walking away, leaving you standing there with your half finished coffee and a heart that felt like it might beat out of your chest.

wednesday's session ended with an even bigger surprise. as you were shoving your notebooks into your bag, jungwon suddenly said, "i was near that tea place earlier." he reached into his bag and pulled out a familiar cup with the café's logo. "got you the peach one. you said it was good, right?"

you took the drink with hands that definitely weren't shaking (they were), the condensation cool against your suddenly burning fingers. "you went all the way there?" your voice came out embarrassingly breathless. "that's like twenty minutes from your apartment."

jungwon shrugged, suddenly very interested in zipping up his pencil case with unnecessary focus. "i had time."

the drink was perfect—just the right amount of sweetness, with real peach pieces at the bottom that you may or may not have saved to eat last like some kind of lovesick weirdo. you tried not to read too much into the gesture, but when you got home, you carefully washed the cup and placed it on your shelf like some kind of sacred artifact, tracing the logo with your finger as you tried (and failed) not to smile like an idiot.

the next day, when you stopped by jungwon's apartment to return a notebook you'd borrowed (and definitely not because you wanted to see him again so soon), you spotted a familiar cup in his recycling bin—the same café's logo, but the peach oolong flavour instead of his usual black coffee. your heart did something complicated and painful in your chest.

he followed your gaze and immediately flushed, quickly kicking the bin under his desk with his foot. "it's not— i was just—"

"curious about the peach?" you finished for him, immediately wanting to die because why did that sound so suggestive? your face burned as you stared at the floor like it held the secrets of the universe.

jungwon ran a hand through his hair, looking more flustered than you'd ever seen him. "yeah," he admitted quietly. "something like that."

in that moment, with his ears turning pink and his usually perfect hair mussed from nervous fingers, you realised something terrifying and wonderful all at once —maybe you weren't the only one falling here. and when jungwon shyly met your eyes, the soft, uncertain smile on his lips told you he knew exactly what you were thinking.

your friends, of course, noticed the whole ordeal before you did. one of them cornered you after class a few days later, grinning like the devil as they leaned against your locker. 

“so… how’s your math husband?” she asked, their voice dripping with faux innocence.

you threatened violence, your face burning as you shoved her away, but the way your blush crept down your neck betrayed you completely. “we’re literally just studying,” you muttered, focusing very hard on stuffing your books into your bag so you wouldn’t have to meet their knowing gaze.

“you called him sir,” she reminded you, her grin widening. “in the first session. and don’t think i haven’t seen the way you look at him when he explains things—”

you were mid-way through plotting your revenge when your phone buzzed in your pocket. you yanked it out, ready to ignore whatever notification had popped up, but then you saw jungwon’s name on the screen and nearly dropped the damn thing.

“got snacks for our next session,” the message read. “hope your favourite gummy bears still apply as brain food :)”

you stared at your phone for five whole minutes, your friend’s cackling laughter fading into the background as you realised— he remembered once again. he remembered your favourite gummy bears, the ones you’d mentioned exactly once in passing months ago when you’d been complaining about the vending machine always being out of them.

your fingers hovered over the keyboard, typing and deleting at least seven different responses before you finally settled on a simple “they do,” followed by a heart that you immediately regretted but couldn’t bring yourself to unsend.

when he replied with just a thumbs up emoji, you buried your face in your hands and groaned, your friend’s laughter ringing in your ears as she patted your shoulder with far too much sympathy.

you were so, so screwed.

you slumped in the school’s auditorium’s chair, picking at a loose thread on your sleeve. academic awards assemblies were always painfully dull, and you'd only shown up because attendance was mandatory. 

when the principal started listing names for "most improved in mathematics," you zoned out entirely—until you heard your own name echo through the speakers.

your breath caught in your throat. that couldn't be right. you turned to your friend with wide eyes, only for her to shove you out of your seat with an excited squeal. "that's you, dumbass! go!"

your legs moved on autopilot as you shuffled toward the stage, nearly tripping on the steps in your haste. the principal's handshake was firm as he handed you the certificate, his booming voice saying something about "remarkable progress" that you barely registered over the blood rushing in your ears.

as you descended the stage, your eyes instinctively scanned the crowd—and there he was. jungwon sat halfway back, not whooping or whistling like some of your classmates, but smiling that small, private smile you'd come to recognise as his version of beaming. his hands came together in steady, measured applause, but the way his eyes crinkled at the corners made your stomach flip violently.

"i didn't even think they tracked that stuff," you mumbled to your friend when you returned to your seat, your face burning.

"oh please," she snorted, elbowing you. "we all know who's really responsible for this glow up."

later, when you opened your math binder at home, a yellow sticky note fluttered out. in jungwon's annoyingly perfect handwriting, it read:

proud of you! you did this. —j

your fingers trembled as you traced the letters. it shouldn't have meant so much —it was just a note, just a few words, but something about seeing his pride in writing, knowing he'd taken the time to leave this for you, made your chest ache.

before you could overthink it, you grabbed your phone and typed out a message: "hey so. i got this award today. maybe we should celebrate? my place after school tomorrow?"

the three dots appeared immediately, then disappeared, then appeared again. finally: "what did you have in mind?"

"idk. snacks. maybe a movie. unless you have better plans with your other students you've dramatically improved?" you added the teasing text before you could chicken out.

his reply came faster this time: "my schedule's miraculously clear. see you at 4."

when jungwon arrived the next day, he looked unfairly good in just a simple white t-shirt and jeans, his hair slightly messy from the wind. he held up a plastic bag with your favourite convenience store snacks. "brain food," he said, that small smile playing at his lips.

"you're such a nerd," you muttered, taking the bag and trying to ignore how your fingers brushed against his.

the first hour passed comfortably enough—junk food spread across your coffee table, some indie movie neither of you were really watching playing in the background. jungwon sat cross-legged on your floor, flipping through your math notes with that focused expression you knew so well.

"you missed a step here," he murmured, pointing to a problem. when you didn't respond, he glanced up to find you staring. "what?"

"nothing," you said quickly, looking away. then, before you could stop yourself: "do you actually think i was pretending to like you?"

jungwon's pencil froze mid-correction. he set it down carefully, his movements deliberately slow. "i wasn't sure what to think," he admitted after a beat. "you're kind of... a mess."

"thanks," you deadpanned, your voice cracking slightly.

"i didn't say it was a bad thing." his fingers tapped an absent rhythm against your notebook. "you're just... inconsistent. one minute you're calling me 'sir' and drawing hearts in your notes, the next you're pretending you don't know me in the hallway."

you swallowed hard. "that's because i panic! you're... you. and i'm..." you gestured vaguely at yourself.

jungwon's lips quirked. "my favourite mess?"

"shut up," you groaned, covering your face with your hands. when you peeked through your fingers, he was watching you with an expression you couldn't quite place—something warm and unbearably fond.

"for the record," he said quietly, "i bought that peach tea for you because i wanted to see you smile. i remembered your favourite gummies because i like the way your eyes light up when you eat them. i kept tutoring you long after you actually needed help because..." he trailed off, his ears turning pink.

your breath caught. "because?"

"because i'm an idiot," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

something bold and reckless surged in your chest. before you could overthink it, you leaned forward and kissed him. it was clumsy at first—you missed slightly, your nose bumping against his cheek before you corrected course. but then his hands came up to cradle your face, his thumbs brushing gently along your jawline, and everything clicked into place.

when you pulled back, breathless, jungwon didn't go far, his forehead resting against yours. "was that your way of saying you like me too?" you whispered.

he huffed a quiet laugh. "i left you a note in your binder. i bought you snacks. i—"

you cut him off with another kiss, this one softer, sweeter. "say it," you murmured against his lips.

jungwon pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his expression uncharacteristically vulnerable. "i like you. a lot. even when you're a mess. especially when you're a mess."

"good," you said, your voice wobbling slightly. "because i'm probably not going to stop being a mess anytime soon."

"i'd be disappointed if you did," he said, and when he kissed you this time, you could feel him smiling against your lips.

the semester ended much like it began—with you and jungwon in the library, textbooks spread across your usual table by the window. but this time, instead of sitting stiffly across from each other, his arm was slung casually over the back of your chair, his fingers playing idly with the ends of your hair as you struggled through one last practise problem before finals.

"you're overthinking it," he murmured, his breath warm against your temple as he leaned closer to look at your work. his free hand came up to point at a line halfway down the page, his chest pressing lightly against your shoulder. "see here? you did the hard part right, then second guessed yourself."

you huffed, "maybe i just like when you correct me."

jungwon snorted, but you didn't miss the way his ears turned pink. "you're impossible."

"you love me," you shot back automatically, then froze, your pencil slipping from your fingers. you hadn't meant to say that—not yet, maybe not ever—but the words had tumbled out before you could stop them.

for a terrifying second, jungwon was completely still behind you. then his hand left your hair to gently turn your chin toward him, his expression unbearably soft. "yeah," he said simply, like it was the easiest truth in the world. "i do."

your breath caught in your throat. you'd imagined this moment a hundred times, but none of your daydreams had prepared you for the quiet certainty in his voice, the way his thumb brushed gently over your cheekbone like you were something precious.

"even though i still don't understand half this math stuff?" you whispered, because you had to ruin the moment, had to give him an out just in case.

jungwon's lips quirked. "especially because you don't understand it. gives me an excuse to keep you around." he leaned in, his nose bumping playfully against yours. "and because you're stubborn. and messy. and you still sometimes call me 'sir' when you're flustered."

you groaned, hiding your face in his shoulder. "i thought we agreed never to talk about that again."

"we agreed no such thing," he laughed, the sound vibrating through his chest and into yours. his arms came around you properly then, pulling you back against him as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. "but if it makes you feel better, i've loved that about you since the beginning."

"you're such a sap," you muttered into his shirt, but you were smiling so wide your cheeks hurt.

later, when you walked out of your last final with jungwon waiting by the doors, his hand found yours without hesitation, his fingers lacing through yours like they belonged there. the sun was shining, your friends were whooping obnoxiously from across the quad, and for once—for once—you didn't overthink it. you just squeezed his hand back, leaned into his side, and let yourself be happy.

"so," he said as you walked toward the parking lot, his voice light but his grip on your hand just a little too tight, like he was afraid you might disappear. "does this mean i'm officially retired as your tutor?"

you bumped your shoulder against his, grinning up at him. "not a chance. i hear calculus is even harder."

jungwon groaned, but he was smiling as he pulled you closer, pressing a kiss to your temple as the late afternoon sun painted everything gold. "lucky me."

𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 ©𝗴𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗯𝗲𝗿𝗿𝘆𝘆 on Tumblr

˚ · .𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱

[lefteagleblizzard]

𝔇𝔦𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔤𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔭𝔞𝔱𝔥𝔰 Until Dawn males x male reader

Summary: 4 smut scenarios featuring each of the men from Until Dawn. Each scenario exists in its own standalone world, completely unconnected to the others—distinct, isolated, and unforgettable.

Tags: He/Him pronouns used for the reader. Mike Munroe x male reader; Matt Taylor x male reader; Josh Washington x male reader; Chris Hartley x male reader. Set before the events of the game. All of these are separated and not connected. All of these with bottom male reader. Friends to lovers/ established relationships. Smut. Gay smut. Dom Mike Munroe. Gentle dom Matt Taylor. Dom Josh Washington. Submissive Chris Hartley. Pinning. Anal sex. Shower sex. Riding. Blowjob.

Recently reached 300 followers and i wanted to do something special <3

ℳ𝒶𝓈𝓉ℯ𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉

Words counts: 8000 words (around 2000 for each character)

Can also be found on wattpad and ao3

ℳ𝒾𝓀ℯ ℳ𝓊𝓃𝓇ℴℯ

Cocky and relentless. Teasing that borders on merciless, using his natural charisma to push buttons and see you squirm and blush beneath him. He doesn't stop until he's left you utterly wrecked, trembling and begging for more. He'd enjoy having full control, alternating it with whispered reassurances or moments of tenderness.

Mike Munroe sat in the chair beside you, leaning back with his signature cocky grin plastered across his face, a textbook in front of him that he hadn't opened once since arriving. He had the look of someone who didn't really care about studying, which, frankly, was true. This entire night was a ruse, a flimsy excuse to be alone with you under the pretense of needing help with an exam.

The plan had seemed solid in his head. You'd sit close, explain things to him with that focused, determined look he loved and he'd lean in, let his charm work its magic and, eventually, your studying would devolve into something much less productive.

Mike had always been good at getting what he wanted. A flash of his smile, a sly remark and most people melted. But now, as you sat at the desk flipping through pages and genuinely trying to explain a concept he couldn't care less about, Mike was starting to feel… frustrated.

"You're telling me I have to memorize all this crap by Thursday? Who the hell needs to know about… what even is this—" he glanced down at the page in front of you, squinting as if the words offended him “—polynomial functions for real life? What, am I gonna solve equations at my job interview?"

You sighed, trying to ignore his dark eyes locked onto yours instead of the textbook in front of him. "You signed up for the class, Mike. I didn't force you to take it."

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered, waving a dismissive hand. "But that's why you're here." He leaned in closer, resting his elbow on the desk and his chin in his hand, his face mere inches from yours. "You make it all make sense. You're, like, my personal genius."

Your stomach twisted at the compliment, even though you tried to brush it off. This was just Mike being Mike, wasn't it? He was like this with everyone. Charming, flirtatious, impossible to ignore. You'd seen him in action before: the way he smirked at the girls in class, the playful winks he threw at random people in the cafeteria.

It was just his thing. And yet, being on the receiving end of it made your heart race in a way that was becoming harder to ignore.

"Your 'genius' thinks you should actually start paying attention," you said, nudging the notebook closer to him. "Try solving this one."

Mike groaned dramatically, dragging the notebook toward him like it physically pained him to do so. "You're cute when you're bossy."

"Mike—“

"I'm kidding." He shot you a lopsided grin before glancing at the problem you'd written out. He picked up the pen, twirling it between his fingers as his brow furrowed in mock concentration. "Okay, so, uh… the square root here is… this, right?"

You couldn't help but laugh at how off he was, shaking your head as you leaned over to correct him. The faint scent of his cologne, woodsy with a hint of spice, hit you as you got closer and you froze for a moment, suddenly all too aware of how close you were.

Mike noticed. Of course he noticed. His grin widened and he tilted his head slightly, his eyes flicking from your face to your lips and back again.

You cleared your throat, quickly retreating to your seat. "Focus, Michael."

"I am focusing," he said, his voice warm and husky now, enough to make your pulse race and your breath catch. He leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms behind his head, his shirt riding up just enough to reveal a strip of toned stomach. He caught your eyes flicking down and smirked. "On you."

Your face burned and you buried it in the textbook, pretending to reread a section. "Don't you have an exam to pass?"

"Yeah, yeah, blah blah blah," he said, waving his hand lazily. "But it’s hard to concentrate when you're sitting there all cute and stuff."

Your heart stuttered, but you forced yourself to roll your eyes, words stuck in your throat as you kept your focus ahead.

He shifted on the chair, his eyes trailing to your lips as you read aloud from the book. God, you had no idea how good they looked, slightly pursed as you concentrated on the material. He could only think about how soft they would feel against his, how warm they'd be as they moved down his body.

His gaze darkened, drifting lower, watching the way your throat moved as you spoke. He wanted to trace his lips there, feel your pulse against his tongue. The idea made his pants feel uncomfortably tight and he shifted again, trying to will the thoughts away.

The study session continued, with you trying your best to keep things on track despite Mike's constant interruptions. He'd accidentally brush his hand against yours when reaching for a pen, his fingers lingering just a moment too long. He'd lean in close under the guise of needing help, his lips so close to your ear that his breath tickled your skin as he murmured, "Explain that one more time?"

The shift you made brought you closer, your thigh brushing against his and Mike had to work hard not to react.

"Here," you said, pointing to a diagram you'd sketched out earlier. "This is how you get everything right. Got it?"

Mike barely registered your words. He was too busy realizing how he could feel the faint heat of your body. His eyes dropped to your hands as you gestured toward the page, wondering what they'd feel like gripping his shoulders, his hips, his—

"Mike”

"Hmm?" He blinked, forcing himself to meet your gaze.

"Are you sure you're okay? You keep zoning out. You said you needed help with this, right?"

Mike sighed dramatically, flopping back on the bed. "Yeah, yeah, I need help," he muttered, though he wasn't talking about school.

As you leaned forward to grab some papers on the desk, his eyes traced the curve of your jaw, the line of your neck, the way your shirt shifted slightly to reveal just a hint of skin.

It was torture.

Sweet, delicious torture.

"Can we take a break? I feel like I'm not gonna retain any of this if I don't decompress a little."

You glanced at the clock. "We've only been at it for 20 minutes."

"Exactly!" Mike said, his grin widening. "That's, like, more than I've ever studied so far."

You rolled your eyes, doing your best at suppress the warmth rising at his warm gaze in your direction. "Let me at least finish this thing?"

"Alright, fine," he muttered, picking up the book with a theatrical sigh and flipping through it aimlessly. "Keep cracking the whip, Teach."

You smiled faintly and got up to grab another set of notes from your backpack. The second you stood, Mike's eyes trailed down the curve of your back, lingering too long on the way your jeans clung to your butt. He bit his bottom lip, running a hand through his hair as he exhaled sharply through his nose.

Enough was enough.

With a quick sigh, he stood, ego hurt and curiosity piqued. He closed the textbook on your desk with a sharp thud. His lip curled briefly at the sight of the boring equations inside, a momentary flicker of irritation at how they'd monopolized your attention. Then he turned his focus back to you.

When you turned around, annoyed at now being able to find what you were looking for, you froze.

He moved closer until your back pressed against the wall. His chest rose and fell steadily, his lips curving into a soft, almost vulnerable smile.

"Can I ask you something?" His voice was low, the teasing edge stripped away, leaving something raw and earnest.

"Uh… sure?" Your pulse quickened as his hand came up, resting lightly against the wall beside your head. His tall frame radiating heat as he leaned closer to you. His dark eyes bore into yours, not with the usual teasing glint, but with raw, unfiltered emotion that made your heart race.

"Do you like me?" he asked, his voice low and intense.

The question hit you like a punch to the chest. "What?"

"You heard me," Mike said, his tone softening, though the intensity in his gaze didn't waver. "Do you like me? Because, damn it, I can't keep this up anymore. I came here because I wanted to be with you, not to study. I just… I need to know."

You stared at him, your heart pounding so loudly you could barely think after hearing the vulnerability in his voice.

"Just tell me the truth," he murmured, his hand lifting to cup your jaw. His thumb brushed lightly over your cheek and the tenderness of the gesture made your knees weak.

Your throat tightened and you felt heat flooding your face. "Yes, Mike. I like you. A lot."

His grin returned, slow and breathtaking, as though your words were the only answer he'd ever wanted. "Yeah?" he asked, his voice dropping to a low rumble. "You don't know how long I've been waiting to hear you say that."

He closed the distance, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that stole the air from your lungs. It was hungry, raw, as though he'd been starving for this moment. His hands found your waist, pulling you forward until you were pressed tightly against him as his tongue pushed into your mouth, exploring with urgency.

You gripped his shoulders instinctively, your fingers digging into the firm muscle as he deepened the kiss.

He pulled back just enough to whisper against your lips, his voice rough and breathless. "Fuck, I've been wanting this for so long. You have no idea."

He bent down abruptly, his arms sliding under your thighs to lift you effortlessly. You gasped, your legs wrapping around his waist. Mike's lips moved to your neck, kissing and nipping as he trailed down to your collarbone. His light stubble scratched your skin, a delicious friction that left you squirming in his hold. He sucked a mark just above your collarbone, his tongue soothing the sting before he moved up to your jaw, his breath hot against your cheek.

"You taste so fucking good," he murmured, his voice a husky growl.

His lips found yours again, the kiss deeper this time, his tongue delving into your mouth as though he couldn't get enough. His hands gripped your thighs tightly, his fingers digging into your skin as he ground his hips against you. You could feel his hardness through his jeans, pressing insistently against you and making you ache with need.

With a grunt, Mike turned and carried you to the bed, laying you down carefully before crawling on top of you. His weight pressed you into the mattress, his sturdy frame caging you in as his lips found your neck again. His hands were everywhere, exploring your body with a mix of reverence and urgency.

You moaned softly as his teeth grazed your neck, his tongue soothing the sensitive skin before his lips claimed yours again. His hands moved to the hem of your shirt, tugging it off in one swift motion before discarding his own. His bare chest pressed against yours, the heat of his skin making you gasp as his lips continued their assault on your neck.

Mike's hands moved lower, unfastening your pants with a speed that made your head spin. He slid them down along with your underwear, his eyes darkening as he took in the sight of you fully bare beneath him.

His fingers found their way between your legs, teasing you as he leaned down to kiss you again. His other hand wrapped around your length, stroking you with firm, steady movements that made your hips buck into his hand.

"You like that?" he asked, his grin wicked as he watched your reaction. "I want to hear you, baby. Don't hold back."

He worked you with expert precision, his mouth returning to your neck to suck another mark. He was relentless, his fingers slipping lower to tease your entrance, his voice low and commanding.

"Relax for me," he whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple. "I'll take care of you, I promise."

His fingers moving in and out with practiced ease as he murmured praises against your skin. His other hand continued stroking you, his thumb teasing your tip in a way that had you writhing beneath him.

"God, you're so tight," he muttered, his breath hot against your neck. "I can't wait to feel you around me."

When he finally replaced his fingers with the hot, throbbing weight of his cock, the stretch was overwhelming. You hissed, your hands gripping his shoulders as he sank into you slowly, giving you time to adjust to his size.

"Fuck," he groaned, his head falling forward to rest against yours.

Mike’s lips didn't stop their assault on your neck, alternating between wet, searing kisses and the light scrape of his teeth that left trails of fire in their wake. Each movement of his hips pressed his thick, throbbing length deeper against you, and the friction was maddening.

"Fuck," he whispered, "You feel so good. So fucking good."

His restraint snapped, his hips snapping against yours with increasing urgency. His hands gripped your hips tightly, holding you in place as he fucked you deeply, his groans mixing with your moans in the heated air.

His pace quickened, his thrusts hitting deeper as he angled his hips just right. You cried out, your nails digging into his back as pleasure overwhelmed you.

"That's it," he growled. "Let me hear you."

You couldn't hold back, your moans growing louder as he pushed you closer to the edge. His hand slipped between your bodies, stroking you in time with his thrusts.

"Come for me," he whispered, his voice strained.

His words sent you over the edge, your climax hitting you as you cried out his name. The way your body clenched around him pushed him over the edge, his thrusts growing erratic as he spilled inside you with a deep groan.

He collapsed on top of you, his body trembling as he pressed soft kisses to your neck, his arms wrapping around you as he held you close. "Worth every second," he murmured, his voice soft and full of affection.

ℳ𝒶𝓉𝓉 𝒯𝒶𝓎𝓁ℴ𝓇

He would seek constant reassurance as he takes tentative steps. However, once he gains confidence, he becomes surprisingly assertive. He'd focus entirely on your pleasure. His athleticism would lend itself to strength and stamina, ensuring you're worshiped and cherished. He would revel in making you feel safe yet utterly overwhelmed by the raw power of his passion, glowing with pride every time he draws out a moan or gasp.

The campus was alive with the lazy hum of an afternoon sun. Matt Taylor was out on the field, his athletic frame in constant motion as he jogged the perimeter.

The way his shirt clung to him, damp and snug from exertion, only highlighted the strength in his broad shoulders and the subtle definition of his chest. It clung stubbornly to his abs, outlining the defined ridges of his stomach. Every muscle in his body seemed to work in perfect harmony as he moved.

The sweat glistening on his caramel skin only made him look more enticing.

He stopped after a lap, bending slightly to catch his breath, hands resting on his thighs. The sight was enough to steal yours.

There were moments when his head would turn, his dark, warm eyes flicking in your direction. He always seemed aware of your presence, like you were a natural part of his environment. The way you looked at him was as essential as the air he breathed.

He'd catch your gaze just for a second, his lips quivering into a smile. It was like he knew you were watching and wanted to remind you that he saw you, too.

With a deep breath, Matt straightened, one hand pushing his damp shirt away from his torso, exposing the hard lines of his stomach. Wiping the sweat from his face and neck with a calm, unhurried precision.

Matt tilted his head just slightly, as if gauging your reaction. Then, without missing a beat, he pressed his hand to his lips and blew a kiss in your direction.

Your heart stuttered, the sheer casualness of it leaving you stunned.

He turned toward the bench at the edge of the field, where his water bottle rested and took a moment to hydrate. He poured some of the cool water over his head, letting it cascade down his face and neck before trailing over his chest. The droplets caught in the sunlight, gleaming as they traced the curve of his shoulders and the hard ridges of his collarbone. His free hand dragged across his jaw, wiping the excess water away in a move that was as unintentional as it was captivating.

The others called out to him, ready to start another round of drills and he responded with an easy wave. As he jogged back to join them, he passed by where you sat.

"Hey," he said, his voice low and warm, tinged with the kind of softness he reserved for moments like this. He leaned down, resting his hands on his knees as he caught his breath. "I was trying out some new moves. Gotta know if they're, you know, impressive enough." His tone was light and teasing, but there was a flicker of vulnerability in his expression, like he genuinely cared what you thought.

"They're impressive," you admitted, your voice quieter than you intended.

His smile softened and for a moment, he looked almost shy. "Thanks," he said, straightening up and running a hand through his short, damp hair.

You watched as he jogged back to his friends, the muscles in his legs flexing with every step. He jumped right back into the game, throwing himself into it with renewed energy. He made daring plays, diving for the ball in ways that sent his friends laughing and clapping him on the back. He'd glance your way after every particularly bold move, his smile growing brighter each time he saw you watching, eager to impress you.

The dim lighting of the locker room cast soft shadows over Matt's glistening body as he leaned against the lockers, phone in hand, his voice warm and playful. His towel hung loosely around his neck and his shirt was long forgotten, leaving his torso on full display. Every inch of him radiated heat.

The room was quiet now, save for the distant echo of running water in the pipes and the soft shuffle of Matt's footsteps as he paced near the benches.

"Yeah, I'm still here," he chuckled into the phone, his deep voice carrying a hint of teasing affection as he talked with you. "No rush, though. No one else is around."

He glanced at the screen, his smile softening before he made up his mind on what to do next.

"Want to hang out? We can talk later after I'm done here, if you want?" He murmured, voice low with a sweet and earnest tone.

"Turn around," you said.

Matt froze for a moment, processing your voice now coming from behind him. He spun on his heel, his eyes widening as they landed on you standing just inside the locker room door. A surprised laugh escaped him and he hung up the call, sliding his phone into the pocket of his gym bag.

"You're here," he said, his grin growing wider. His dark eyes sparkled with a mix of excitement and shyness as he took a hesitant step forward.

"I wanted to surprise you," you replied, your voice soft but steady.

He moved closer, the heat of his body palpable even from a few feet away. The faint sheen of sweat making every curve of his muscles stand out.

"Let me—uh—just a sec," Matt stammered, rubbing the back of his neck as he closed the distance between you. He was so careful, leaning in slowly as though worried he'd overwhelm you. His lips brushed yours lightly at first, the saltiness of his sweat mingling with the sweetness of his breath.

"You don't mind the, uh…" He gestured to himself, his cheeks flushing slightly.

"Not at all," you murmured, pulling him closer.

The kiss deepened, his mouth moving against yours with a mix of gentle passion and restrained hunger. One arm looped around your waist while his big hand cradled the back of your head. His hands found your hips, his touch firm but tender.

He broke the kiss only to glance over his shoulder, his eyes scanning the empty locker room. Once satisfied you were alone, he turned back to you, his expression soft but smoldering.

"Shower's right there," he murmured, his voice low and husky. "Think we could, uh… clean up together?"

The corner of his mouth twitched in a nervous smile, but the desire in his eyes was undeniable.

You didn't answer with words, letting your lips find his again instead, this time with more urgency as he backed behind with you caged in his arms.

The shower stalls were humid and warm, steam curling in the air as Matt turned on the water, letting it cascade down his back. He stood under the stream for a moment, his head tilted back, droplets running over his shoulders and down his chest, washing away the sweat that clung to him.

He turned to you, his expression soft but filled with intent. "Come here," he whispered, holding out a hand.

You stepped into the stall, the warm spray hitting your now naked skin as his arms wrapped around you, pulling you close. His lips found yours again, deeper this time, his hands exploring your back, your sides, the curve of your hips. His touch was firm but gentle, every movement infused with the kind of care that made your chest ache.

His hands moved to your waist, lifting you slightly to press you against the cool tile wall. The contrast of temperatures sent a shiver through you, but Matt's body pressed against yours was a furnace, his heat keeping you grounded.

The water ran between you, slicking your skin as his kisses trailed down your neck, his lips warm and soft against your wet skin. His breath was hot, mouth lingering over every inch of you like he couldn't get enough.

"I want to make you feel good," he whispered, his forehead resting against yours, water dripping from his hair and into your eyes.

Hands broad and rough from years of training roamed your body with deliberate care. He started at your waist, his thumbs grazing your hips, then slid them down to cup your thighs, pulling you closer until every inch of him was flush against you.

His lips moved down the side of your neck, planting open-mouthed kisses that lingered, his tongue flicking out to taste the droplets sliding down your skin. "You feel so damn good." Matt murmured, his voice thick with need.

His teeth grazed your bottom lip before his tongue pushed into your mouth. His hands drifted lower, gripping your ass firmly as he hoisted you up, pressing you against the cold tile wall.

His hips pressed into yours and you felt the unmistakable hardness between his legs, the weight of him grinding slowly.

"Matt," you gasped, your voice catching in your throat as his lips found your collarbone, then moved lower, trailing down your chest. He paused at your nipple, his mouth closing around it, his tongue swirling as his teeth grazed just enough to make you arch into him.

The water streamed down his back as he continued his descent, his tongue and lips mapping a path across your stomach, his hands gripping your hips tightly, anchoring you. He looked up at you as he knelt, his eyes filled with a hunger that made your knees weak.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice low, almost reverent.

You nodded quickly, your breath hitching as he kissed along your thighs, his mouth hot against your damp skin. His fingers traced delicate patterns, teasing you, making you ache for more. He submits his mouth to take on your length, his tongue flicking out to taste you, slow and deliberate as he traced every vein and ridge.

The sensation of his mouth on you was almost too much. Your hands flew to his hair, your fingers tangling in the soft strands as you arched up against him.

His hands gently rested on your soft, supple ass. He circled the hole gently before pressing his finger inside up to the second knuckle. Your head tilting up as the finger went in deeper before adding in another finger.

When you were trembling beneath his touch, Matt stood again, pulling you into another searing kiss. His hands gripped the back of your thighs, lifting you easily as he aligned himself with you. The anticipation was overwhelming, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, "Tell me if I'm too much. I don't want to hurt you."

His sweetness melted into raw passion as he slowly pushed inside, stretching you in a way that made your breath catch. The pressure was intense, the fullness almost too much, but Matt paused, his lips brushing your temple as he murmured against your skin.

"You're doing so good for me," he said, his voice strained, his restraint obvious as he let you adjust.

When you nodded, giving him the okay, he began to move. His thrusts were slow at first, measured, each one sending sparks of pleasure through your body. His hands gripped your hips tightly, holding you steady as he found a rhythm, the sound of skin against skin echoing in the small, steamy space.

"You're so tight," he groaned, his voice barely above a whisper as he buried himself deeper.

His pace quickened, his control slipping with each thrust, his eyes watching you intensively, filled with unspoken adoration and need.

Matt's hand slipped between your bodies, his fingers stroking in time with his thrusts. The dual sensations were overwhelming, your body tightening around him as you felt yourself teetering on the brink.

"Come for me. I want to feel you," Matt whispered, voice a mix of command and plea.

His words pushed you over the edge, your climax ripping through you with an intensity that left you shaking, your cries muffled against his shoulder. The way your body clenched around him sent him spiraling, his thrusts becoming erratic as he groaned your name, his release spilling inside of you hot, heavy and overwhelming.

He held you there, both of you trembling as the water continued to pour over your exhausted bodies, his breath ragged but his smile soft.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice hoarse but filled with tenderness.

You nodded, your fingers threading through his damp hair as you pulled him into a soft, lingering kiss. "More than okay."

And with that, Matt grinned affectionately before wrapping you in his arms, his warmth and love enveloping you completely.

𝒥ℴ𝓈𝒽 𝒲𝒶𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓃ℊ𝓉ℴ𝓃

He would be almost hypnotic. His hands firm, guiding you like a puppeteer while he watches every reaction with piercing eyes. Touch that alternate between rough and tender. He'd seek absolute surrender, his lips tracing feverish paths across your skin as he demands every gasp, every shiver, until you're completely undone.

The basement was dimly lit, a warm glow from the single overhead bulb casting shadows over the eclectic collection of items Josh's family had accumulated over the years. Shelves lined the walls, crammed with dusty film reels, old cameras and props from Josh's endless experiments in cinematography. You trailed behind him as he rifled through a box, muttering under his breath about where he'd left the camera he needed.

"You've got enough stuff down here to make a whole trilogy,” you spoke amazed, picking up a fake severed hand from one of the nearby tables. "Let me guess, this was for some horror project?"

Josh turned, his smirk lighting up his face even in the shadows. "Oh, that? Nah, that was just Halloween last year. Dad thought it'd be funny to have it sticking out of the candy bowl." He rummaged through a nearby crate, pulling out a few props from old projects like the fake blood packets and a weathered script.

You laughed, shaking your head as you placed it back on the table. Josh returned to rummaging through his box of supplies and your attention wandered to a nearby shelf where a cracked clown mask hung ominously. This place is like a treasure trove, a mix of fascinating and unsettling, much like Josh himself. His mind always worked a mile a minute, brimming with ideas that danced somewhere between genius and chaos.

"Found it!" Josh declared, holding up a vintage film camera triumphantly. "This baby's gonna make my project an A+ for sure."

"Finally," you teased, crossing your arms. "I thought we'd be down here forever."

Josh's grin widened, that familiar mischievous glint lighting up his eyes. "Oh, don't tell me you're scared of basements."

"I'm not scared of this place," you replied, rolling your eyes while turning around to see again a cool looking mask that you wanted to try out.

"No?" he asked, his tone mock-innocent as he casually reached for something behind him.

When you turned around to face your boyfriend again, your eyes were met with a mask that resembles a skull-like style with a pair of thin black eyebrows, a cracked nose and rotten styled teeth. The dim light casting eerie shadows across the distorted features.

He lunged at you with a guttural growl, arms outstretched. Startled, you yelped involuntarily, stumbling back a step as he grabbed you with exaggerated ferocity. He gripped tightly your waist and hoisted you effortlessly onto a nearby table, pinning you in place.

"Gotcha!" he exclaimed, pulling the mask off to reveal his gleeful grin.

"You absolute jerk!" you gasped, swatting at his chest with your right hand in frustration.

Josh laughed, his deep, warm chuckle echoing through the basement. "You should've seen your face! Priceless."

"You're the worst," you muttered, though the heat in your cheeks betrayed how flustered you were.

"Oh, come on," he said, leaning closer. His hands rested on either side of your hips, trapping you. "You're even more handsome when you're scared. Seriously, it's not fair."

He leaned closer, his lips brushing your ear as he murmured, "Let me make it up to you for my genius prank." He concluded the line with a kiss to your neck, his lips warm and insistent against your skin.

"Trust me," he whispered, his voice low and rough, his hands sliding up your sides as his teeth grazed the sensitive spot just below your ear.

Your breath hitched, your hands finding their way to his shoulders as his mouth moved lower, trailing kisses down your neck and along your collarbone. His fingers tugged at the hem of your shirt, pushing it up to expose more skin, his lips following the path his hands carved.

"We’ve done it not even an hour ago," you murmured, your voice trembling as he nipped lightly at your shoulder.

Josh chuckled against your skin, the sound vibrating through you. "Perfect then! Means that you’re ready for me," he admitted, pressing his lips to yours into a kiss that was equal parts sweet and consuming. His hands roamed your body with a mix of confidence and care, his touch leaving trails of heat in its wake.

He broke the kiss just long enough to tug your shirt over your head, his eyes darkening as he took in the sight of you. "You look good," he said simply, his voice tinged with awe.

"Stop being sappy," you teased, though your heart raced at his words.

Josh grinned, his hands sliding to your waistband. "Fine, I'll focus on other things"

He made quick work of your pants, his lips finding yours again as he pressed you back against the table. The feel of his body against yours, the weight of him grounding you, sent a shiver down your spine.

"Tell me what you want," he murmured against your lips, his voice low and intimate.

"You," you replied without hesitation, your hands tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer.

Josh groaned softly, his fingers tightened on your thighs, his thumbs stroking the bare skin just above your knees as he stepped closer, pressing himself against you. His lips trailed along your jawline, soft and teasing at first, but the heat in his movements grew with each passing second.

He tilted your head slightly, exposing more of your neck and pressing his lips there, warm and insistent.

Your breath hitched as his teeth grazed the sensitive spot just below your ear, his tongue following in a slow, deliberate sweep that left you shivering. His hands roamed upward, fingers hooking under the hem of your shirt before tugging it over your head in one swift motion.

"God," he breathed, pulling back just enough to take you in. His eyes were dark, predatory. "You're fucking amazing."

"You don't look so bad yourself," you managed, your voice shaky but laced with a teasing edge.

Josh smirked, leaning in to kiss you again. This time, there was no pretense of restraint. His tongue slid against yours, the kiss messy and consuming as his hands pulled you closer until there wasn't an inch of space between you.

Your hands found their way to his shirt, pushing it up over his torso. He broke the kiss just long enough to yank it off, tossing it carelessly to the floor before returning his lips to yours. The heat of his bare chest against yours sent a thrill through you, his skin warm and slightly damp as your hands explored the defined lines of his back.

Josh's hips rolled against yours and you felt the unmistakable hardness pressing against your thigh. Your own erection makes your pants feel painfully tight. He groaned softly, his breath hot against your neck as he ground into you, the friction sending sparks of pleasure coursing through your body.

"You're driving me crazy," he admitted, his voice rough as his hands slid to the waistband of your pants. He hesitated for just a moment, his eyes meeting yours. "Can I…?"

"Yes," you said quickly, the word barely more than a whisper.

He grinned, his usual cocky demeanor softened by the flush in his cheeks, and tugged your pants down, his hands deliberate and firm. You kicked them off, your skin prickling with anticipation as he leaned back to admire you.

"You're perfect," Josh said, his voice husky as his fingers traced along your thighs, his touch featherlight but electrifying.

You reached for him, pulling him closer until his body was pressed fully against yours. The feel of him, hard and eager, against your own growing arousal made you gasp. Josh took the opportunity to kiss you again, his hands sliding lower to grip your ass, lifting you slightly as he aligned himself with you.

"Ready?" he asked, his hands voice soft but filled with intensity.

You nodded, wrapping your arms around his neck as he positioned himself. The stretch as he pushed inside was slow and deliberate, his movements measured as he let you adjust to the fullness.

"Fuck," he groaned, his head dropping to your shoulder as he buried himself completely.

The words sent a shiver through you, your hands tightening on his shoulders as you urged him to move. Josh pulled back slightly, his hips rocking forward again in a slow, steady rhythm that left you breathless.

He found a pace that was both gentle and intense, his thrusts deep and deliberate, each one drawing soft moans from your lips. His hands gripped your hips, guiding you as he pressed kisses to your neck, your jaw, your lips.

Your own voice trembling as the pleasure built with each movement.

Josh's pace quickened, his control slipping as his need for you overwhelmed him. The table beneath you creaked with each thrust, but neither of you cared. The only thing that mattered was the way he filled you, the way his body moved against yours like you were made for each other.

Your climax hit suddenly, a wave of pleasure crashing over you and leaving you trembling in his arms. You cried out his name, your fingers digging into his shoulders as your body clenched around him.

Josh wasn't far behind. His thrusts grew erratic, his grip on your hips tightening as he buried himself as deep as he could, groaning your name as he spilled into you. The warmth of his release sent another shiver through you, the sensation leaving you breathless.

For a moment, the two of you stayed like that, tangled together on the table, your breaths mingling as you came down from the high. Josh pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his hands trailing soothing patterns on your back.

"Am i forgiven now?" he asked, his voice hoarse but laced with his usual humor.

You laughed softly, nuzzling into his neck. "Yeah, I'd say so."

Josh grinned, his arms tightening around you as he rested his forehead against yours. "Good. Because I'm not done yet."

𝒞𝒽𝓇𝒾𝓈 ℋ𝒶𝓇𝓉𝓁ℯ𝓎

Hesitant, nervous chuckles and self-deprecating jokes peppering the atmosphere before his passion takes over. He's the type to fumble slightly, then find his rhythm as he becomes more confident. He'd moan sweetly, almost embarrassed by how lost he becomes in you, whispering heartfelt praise and words that reflect just how irresistible he finds you.

The game's victory screen flashed across the TV, the sound of triumphant chiptunes filling the room. Both you and Chris collapsed onto the bed in an exhausted heap, the adrenaline of finally beating your highest score leaving you giddy. His laughter bubbled up first, that unmistakable mix of relief and joy that only he could manage and you couldn't help but join in.

"We actually did it," Chris said, breathless as he flopped onto his back, one arm draped lazily across his forehead. "I thought we were doomed when you missed that jump in the third level."

"Excuse me, you're the one who forgot to grab the power-up right before the boss fight." You shot back, turning your head to face him.

Chris groaned, dramatically rolling onto his side to look at you. His glasses were slightly askew and his hair was sticking up in every direction, but he looked so completely relaxed and at ease in that moment that it made your chest ache in the best way. "Okay, okay, my bad. But you have to admit I nailed that final combo."

You snorted, nudging his shoulder with yours. "Yeah, sure. But only because I carried us through the rest of the game."

His jaw dropped in mock outrage. "Carried us? You died twice in the first round, man!"

“And who revived you at the end?" you shot back, smirking.

Chris opened his mouth to respond but stopped, his grin widening as he broke into laughter. "Alright, alright. You're not entirely useless. We're gaming legends now! They're gonna put our names in the Hall of Fame or something."

"Right next to the guy who discovered cheat codes for unlimited lives," you quipped.

"Exactly," he said, grinning as his blue eyes sparkled behind his glasses. "We're pioneers of our time."

The two of you laid there, the laughter slowly fading into a comfortable silence. The faint glow of the TV bathed the room in soft light, illuminating the faint curve of his smile as he gazed up at the ceiling. His arm was still close to yours, his fingers just brushing against your skin in a way that felt deliberate but unspoken.

"It was fun," Chris said after a moment, his voice quieter now.

"Yeah," you agreed, your own tone softer. "I don't think I've laughed this much in a while."

He turned his head to look at you, his glasses sliding down his nose slightly. "From now on you'll be my good luck charm."

You chuckled, shaking your head. "You just needed someone to keep you focused. You do get distracted a lot."

Chris groaned, covering his face with his hands. "Don't remind me. I'm like a dog chasing squirrels. Oh look, shiny object—game over."

You both laughed again, the sound soft and intimate in the late-night stillness. When it faded, you found him watching you, his blue eyes catching the flicker of light from the TV.

"What?" you asked, your voice tinged with curiosity.

"Nothing," he said quickly, but his grin gave him away. "You're a lot of fun to hang out with, you know that? Like, even when you're roasting me."

"Glad to be of service," you teased, your own grin mirroring his.

His gaze lingered a little longer than usual, his expression shifting slightly. "No, but seriously. I mean it. You're, uh… you're really great."

You felt your cheeks warm at his words, the sincerity in his voice catching you off guard.

"Thanks," you said softly. "You're pretty great too, Chris."

He smiled, a little shyly this time, and turned onto his side fully, propping his head up on one hand. "Have you ever thought about how weird life is? Like, one day you're just doing your usual things, then Sam one day shows up with someone like you and suddenly everything's a million times better. Boom. Butterfly effect."

You raised an eyebrow. "Are you trying to be romantic at two in the morning? Because I think the lack of sleep is getting to you."

"Hey, don't ruin my moment!" he protested, but his laughter undercut his words.

You laughed too, the sound mingling with his as the moment stretched on.

You sat up on the bed and then crawled toward your destination, the TV's glow fading as you turned it off. When you turned back to the bed, Chris was sprawled out like a contented cat, his arms spread wide, his legs slightly apart. His glasses were back into their original place at the top of his nose.

"You just gonna stare, or are you gonna accept my invitation?" he teased, wiggling his eyebrows in an exaggerated fashion.

You laughed, shaking your head, but the way his smile widened when you leaned closer told you that you weren't fooling him for a second. You crawled onto the bed, resting against his side as he let his arm fall lazily around your waist.

"Happy now?" you asked, pressing a quick kiss to his left cheek.

"Getting there," he said, voice soft and a little breathless

You didn't stop, peppering more kisses along his cheek and down to his jaw, light scratches from his stubble against your lips. Your hand wandered lower, brushing over his stomach, then down to his pants, where you felt the beginnings of his growing arousal.

Chris chuckled, the sound nervous but filled with anticipation. His free hand moved to your back, pulling you closer as his breath hitched. "Wow, okay, uh… Someone's feeling bold tonight," he murmured, though his grin betrayed how much he was enjoying it.

"Aren't we supposed to be basking in our gaming glory?"

You squeezed him gently through the fabric, feeling him harden further under your touch. "Should I stop, then?" you teased, feigning innocence as your fingers lingered.

"Nope!" he blurted out quickly, his voice cracking slightly as his head shot up. His face was flushed, but his lips found yours in a soft, insistent kiss, his usual shyness tempered by a growing determination.

The kiss deepened, his tongue brushing yours as his hand slid under your shirt, his fingers warm and exploratory against your skin. You shifted, straddling his lap, and he let out a quiet groan as your weight pressed down on him. His hands gripped your hips, guiding you slightly as he rolled his hips up, creating delicious friction that left you both breathless.

"God, you're… You're really good at this," Chris muttered, his lips trailing down your neck, each kiss accompanied by a soft hum of approval.

"You sound surprised," you teased, grinding against him again just to hear the way his breath caught.

He laughed softly, though it quickly turned into a low groan. "No, no, I mean—I just—" He stopped, shaking his head as if words were failing him entirely. "Never mind. Keep doing that… please?"

You grinned, leaning in to kiss him again, your hands slipping under his shirt to explore the warm expanse of his chest. He was lean but toned, his body radiating heat as your fingers traced over him, eliciting small, breathy noises that only spurred you on.

Chris's hands slid to the waistband of his pants, fumbling slightly as he worked them down. "Help me out here," he said with a nervous laugh, his cheeks red but his smile never wavering.

You helped him and he helped you out, the two of you working together to peel away the layers until you were completely bare. Him beneath you with your naked body on top of his. His erection stood proud, flushed and eager and the sight of him vulnerable yet so clearly aroused made your own desire burn hotter.

"You're handsome, you know that?" you said softly, running your hands over his thighs as you sat back to take him in.

Chris laughed, covering his face with one hand. "Oh my God, don't say stuff like that. I'll die."

"Too bad. I’ll say it, whether you like it or not," you teased, leaning down to kiss him again.

His response was a muffled laugh against your lips, but it melted into a moan as you reached down to guide him to your entrance. He gripped your hips tightly, his eyes searching yours for confirmation and when you nodded, he let out a shaky breath.

"Okay," he said, his voice soft but steady. "Okay, just—take your time."

You did, slowly sinking onto him, the stretch intense but achingly good. Chris's grip on your hips tightened, his head falling back against the pillow as a low groan escaped him.

"Holy shit," he whispered, his hands trembling slightly as he held you steady. "God, you feel amazing."

You leaned forward, bracing your hands on his chest as you began to move, your body adjusting to the rhythm as you found a steady pace. Chris's eyes were half-lidded, his lips parted as he sat up from his previous laid position. His hands were guiding your movements but never pushing, always letting you set the pace.

"Is this— shit, is this okay?" he asked, his voice cracking slightly as his hips bucked up involuntarily.

"it's perfect," you murmured, leaning down to kiss him. "You're perfect."

His laugh was breathless, almost disbelieving, but he met your kiss with fervor, his tongue tangling with yours as his hands explored your body. The soft gasps he made, whispered curses, your name falling from his lips like a prayer… it all drove you closer to the edge with every thrust.

Chris's movements became more erratic, his hips meeting yours with increasing urgency. "I'm—oh God, I don't think I'm gonna last," he admitted, his voice high and strained

"Don't hold back," you said, your own voice trembling as your climax built.

With a choked groan, Chris buried himself as deep as he could and tightened his arm around your body, his release hitting him in waves that left him trembling beneath you. The feeling of him filling you, combined with the look of utter ecstasy on his face, sent you over the edge, your own orgasm crashing through you as you collapsed onto his chest.

For a moment, the two of you stayed in that position, your breaths mingling as you came down from the high. Chris's arms pulled you close as he pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your temple.

"Best. Night. Ever," he murmured, his voice warm and content.

"Agreed," you said, your own smile matching his as you nuzzled against him.

If you liked this, please leave a comment. I love reading them <3. Let me know if you had a favorite one out of this four fine men ;)

[shadamyheadcanons]

Shadamy in high school headcannon

For Shadamytober 2024 - Day 3: Highschool Outcast

One poor anon sent in this ask an eternity ago. I started writing a full story for it, but I lost steam because I just can’t connect with high school romance stories the way I could when I was younger. I’ve been looking for an excuse to share the parts I did get done, though, and I just realized it suits the High School Outcast prompt for Shadamytober, so I can post it now!

Ignore that I’m late for that, too

Fair warning: I wrote this years ago, and I won’t be continuing it. It doesn’t end on a cliffhanger, but don’t go into this expecting any more!

@shadamytober

Amy sat in her math classroom at the start of the year, shaking like a leaf. She stuck out like a sore pink thumb in a class full of “the troublemakers,” as she’d always called them.

“Hey, Pinky, haven’t seen you around before.”

“What’re you doing Friday night? I’m free if you don’t have cheerleading practice.”

“I suck at math, but I’ll still give you private lessons if you want.”

In the process of averting her eyes from the student in front her, Amy spotted him in the far corner of the room: Shadow the hedgehog. A cold pit of unease settled in her stomach.

Of course he’s in this class. As if this room weren’t terrifying enough.

Most people agreed that Shadow was the scariest guy in school. His identity was shrouded in rumors. Some claimed he was a thief. Others said they’d seen him beat people up. Whatever the truth was, though, Shadow was surely bad news. He sat in the far corner of the room surrounded by a buffer of empty desks...and his red eyes were locked on her. She snapped her gaze away and held herself tightly.

It was actually a relief when the teacher started the lesson, shooting a glare of warning at the boys who were harassing Amy. She let out a sigh, hoping that would be the end of it as she stared at the board and attempted to make sense of the numbers and letters the teacher wrote. She tried to sort out the binomials, polynomials, functions, and variables as best she could, but she was hopelessly lost from the get-go. She shook with fear.

Something light hit Amy on the head. She frowned as she opened the balled-up piece of paper that had landed on her desk...only to find that it was a crudely-drawn image of the male anatomy. She yelped quietly, startled and disgusted, and the Mobians around her cackled quietly at her reaction. She swiftly crumpled up the piece of paper with her shaky hands and pushed it off of her desk.

The ruckus was loud enough to draw the teacher’s attention, but apart from threatening the boys with detention, he didn’t do much. Amy peeked up from her notebook and saw Shadow’s red eyes staring at her again. Her lower lip trembled.

She spent the rest of the period trying to write down equations she didn’t understand with a hand that wouldn’t stop shaking from the way her creepy classmates were leering at her. On top of that, she could practically feel the pair of red eyes watching her struggle through it.

Once the bell rang, Amy bolted straight to the bathroom and burst into tears in one of the stalls.

Is the whole year going to be like this?

Amy arrived as early as possible the next day so she could take a seat in the front right corner of the room. I’ll be closer to the door this time, and only three people can sit adjacent to me, so I won’t be surrounded. She nodded, confident in her reasoning.

A wrench was thrown into her plans when Shadow dropped into the seat next to her, having entered the otherwise empty classroom just after she did. She stiffened with anxiety and stared directly ahead with wide eyes.

Why here? WHY HERE?! Literally every other seat is empty! Don’t tell me he’s going to mess with me, too. I can’t handle this!

She whimpered quietly, but Shadow didn’t say anything. He didn’t even look at her. He took out a battered notebook and a pen with a chewed cap from a messenger bag that had seen better days, then placed them on the desk and rested his chin in his hand, half dozing off as he waited for class to begin. Amy watched with confusion out of the corner of her eye as she gingerly retrieved her pristine pink notebook and pencil, but he did nothing more.

More students started entering. Amy shrank in her seat and averted her gaze from the ones who had bothered her on the first day. Surprisingly, though, no one said a word to her. Some of them opened their mouths, only to snap them back shut and turn pale before scurrying off and sitting as far away as they could. Amy frowned, then looked over at Shadow. One of the boys from yesterday came up, only to turn tail when Shadow glared at him. She tilted her head, confused.

Is he...trying to isolate me...? She frowned. That can’t be it. He’s not even talking to me. Why bother?

By the time the teacher arrived, Amy and Shadow were sitting in the front corner while the rest of the students were gathered on the other side, leaving a row of empty desks around them. She would have laughed at the absurdity if she weren’t so terrified.

The subject material proved to be as elusive as ever, the equations being just as unsolved as the stoic, unmoving hedgehog beside her. To add to the enigma, Shadow wasn’t even taking notes. He examined the board with half-shut eyes, but there wasn’t a single word on his paper.

Amy rolled her eyes. Why even open the notebook if you’re not going to write anything? Is this guy even here to learn?

Still, it was nice not being harassed by multiple boys who wouldn’t leave her alone. They wouldn’t even look her way now. She decided the silence wasn’t so bad; even if she still didn’t get the math, at least she could focus on trying.

The teacher rattled off some problem about Train A going north and Train B going south at such-and-such speeds, then gave them a few minutes to work on it. Amy wrote down the information she hoped was important and started plugging in numbers to guess-and-check her way through it, knowing that even if she didn’t have the right technique, she’d get there eventually.

I guess the situation today is technically better. Just so long as he doesn’t do anything weird.

“You’re doing it wrong.”

Amy jumped at the voice. She turned with trepidation to see Shadow was staring at her, eyes just as harsh as ever. She’d never actually heard him speak before. His voice was low and smooth, oddly relaxing despite his blunt manner and message.

“Well...I was just gonna...” she squeaked, trailing off at the end.

Shadow looked at her for a moment longer, then turned back to his own desk. She let out a sigh of relief, only to freeze up when he ripped a page out of his notebook and shuffled his desk right up next to hers. Her heart pounded in terror at the close proximity. He spoke up again, apparently oblivious.

“You can make equations out of both of these. The ‘y’ value for both is where they are at a given time, the constant term is where they started, and the coefficient of x is their speed. Since we know they’re in the same place for the collision, the ‘y’ for both should match, so you can set them equal to each other and solve it.”

Amy’s mouth dropped open, and she looked back and forth between Shadow and her paper, torn between confusion, understanding, gratitude, and intimidation.

Shadow kept staring. “Solve it.”

Amy hunched down in front of her paper and picked up her pencil. “Okay,” she replied in a small voice.

It took Amy a minute or two, but she finally got it. She turned her elated grin to Shadow. He didn’t smile back, but he nodded approvingly and shuffled his desk back to its original spot.

After another ten minutes of perplexing explanations, the teacher gave them a few more problems to work on by themselves. By the time Shadow had raced through them, Amy was still stuck on the first one. He looked up from his desk, checked her notes, and sighed, almost sounding exasperated, but he shifted his desk back over and patiently explained the processes once more.

With his guidance, she completed the rest of the problems and sighed in relief. He shuffled his desk away to give her space again. She finished just in time for the teacher to assign their homework.

Amy peeked over at Shadow, trying to figure out what to say. Eventually, she settled on a simple “thank you.”

Shadow looked up one last time. Then, he snatched up the paper he’d used to show her the procedures and quickly scrawled something on it. He handed it back to her, and her eyes widened in surprise when she saw his name with a number written under it.

“Text me if you have trouble with the homework. Or don’t. I don’t care.”

Amy’s mouth dropped open, and she gawked after him as he packed up his bag and left.

What the hell?!

Amy’s eyes scrunched up as she stared at her homework that night. She’d finished about half of it with little trouble, but she stalled out when the equations grew more complex. She pressed her lips together before turning her gaze to the stray piece of paper she’d folded and kept in her notebook. She packed up her courage and picked up her phone, entering the unfamiliar number with shaking hands. She typed out a careful message and hesitated for a few seconds, then pressed Send.

Amy shifted from one foot to the other just outside the school library. She checked the time and held her books a little tighter in front of her.

A minute later, Shadow rounded the corner and walked directly toward her, looking just as intimidating as usual. She let out a sigh of relief. Thank God Shadow’s here... She scrunched up her nose. Now that’s something I never thought I’d say.

“Thanks for helping, Shadow. It’s super lucky that we have the same study period!”

Shadow just grunted in assent and walked right past her into the library to look for a seat. She frowned. He’s so helpful, but he’s like...this. Nice...but weird.

He made a beeline for a table all the way in the back next to a window. She took out her pink notebook and pencil once more. Just to make small talk, she asked, “Any reason you went for this table? Just curious.”

“The view from the window,” he explained. “The foliage is nice in the fall. In the wintertime, a layer of snow blankets the pine trees, and the pond freezes over. There’s a brief time in the spring when cherry blossoms bloom on that tree over there.” He said all of it calmly, his neutral expression still casually fixed on the pen he was retrieving from his bag.

Amy’s heart thumped. She gulped and clutched at her blouse over her heart. What the hell was that?!

Shadow glanced up at her pose and her wide eyes, then frowned. “What?”

She stayed tense for a moment, then shook it off. “Nothing! So, uh...I got this far...”

Shadow shifted closer to examine her answers. He nodded in approval and started walking her through the rest of the problems with quiet words and careful strokes of his pen. Her frazzled nerves calmed down at his soft voice, his easy explanations, and the muted sounds of the library.

When she had to do the problems herself, though, it was less relaxing. She could feel his eyes on her while she wrote. Wanting to break the uncomfortable silence, she gathered her courage while she erased one of her attempts, then spoke to her intimidating companion.

“So, um...if you’re this good at math, why aren’t you in the advanced sequence?”

Shadow stared down at her shy expression for a moment longer. He suddenly let out an amused “hmph,” though he still didn’t smile. “You know Mr. Robotnik?”

Amy groaned and let her head roll back to look at the ceiling. “Oh, God, do I!” His gaze turned inquisitive, and she smiled sheepishly. “Ah, yeah...why?”

He closed his eyes and shook his head. “His class was boring, and he was really annoying, so...I amused myself.” Amy tilted her head, curious. He crossed his arms. “He insists on being called “Dr. Robotnik” and gets pissed off if you call him “Mr. Robotnik,” but I was bored and didn’t like him, soooo...I did that. A lot. On purpose.”

Amy’s eyes went wide at his deadpan expression. She tried—and failed—to hide her laughter. She stifled it as best as she could to avoid being scolded by the librarians. Shadow just stared, seemingly thrown off. Once her giggles died down, Amy quietly asked, “Let me guess: he put you in the lower sequence just because he didn’t like you?”

Shadow put his elbow on the table and rested his head in his hand, interested. “How’d you know?”

“Pfft.” Amy shook her head. “I wasn’t always this bad at math. I was pretty good with numbers, but once they started adding letters, they kinda lost me. I probably would have been okay if I hadn’t been stuck with him.” Shadow’s expression changed. It almost looked...sympathetic? Amy decided she was imagining things and continued on. “He’s brilliant, but he’s a horrible teacher. I just kept falling behind, and he was too much of a jerk to help me. Thanks to him, my grades took a nose-dive. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to catch up.”

“You will.”

Amy paused. “What?”

Shadow nodded to the paper and pointed to all the problems she’d gotten right. “You’ve already gotten better. With a little help, you’ll catch up again in no time. You’re a smart girl.”

Amy was stopped in her tracks once again. That’s the first compliment he’s given me. It’s the first nice thing I’ve heard him say about anyone. Knowing it came from someone like Shadow only made it hit harder. A grin spread across her face.

Shadow remained stone-faced as always. “So what were you saying about him not liking people?”

Amy laughed shyly. “Well, ah...you know how you messed with him because you didn’t like him? Uh...I didn’t like him, either, so...” She scratched the back of her head. “I’m the one who got everyone to start calling him ‘Eggman.’ It was just too much fun to see him get bent out of shape! Even if I’d had the grades, he never would have sent me to the advanced classes.”

Shadow’s neutral expression finally broke, leaving surprise in its wake. “That was you?!” He looked her up and down, from the pink variation of the school uniform she’d chosen, to the matching flower-adorned headband, to her cheery, innocent face. “Really?”

Breaking through his façade sent a thrill through Amy’s chest. Mischief crept into her tone. “What, a girl like me can’t have a rebellious streak?”

“Huh.” Shadow scratched his chin, intrigued. “I guess people can surprise you.”

Amy grinned back.

No kidding.

With Shadow’s help, Amy finished her homework just before the bell rang. The two of them walked to class together, drawing more than a few stares. She was shy about it at first, but something about the way Shadow never seemed bothered by how people looked at him rubbed off on her, instilling her with a unique form of confidence she’d never had before. It wasn’t just his flat, unfazed expression, either. It was the way he walked, head held high, never hunched down under the stares he drew. He didn’t even bother to wear his uniform correctly; his jacket was partly unbuttoned, and his red tie hung loosely around his neck.

At last, one set of eyes stopped him in his tracks. The vice principal loudly scolded him for his disheveled appearance. He reluctantly tightened his tie and buttoned his jacket properly, sighing and rolling his eyes as he did so. The vice principal snapped at him about his uniform and bad attitude once more before walking away, her high heels clacking harshly against the tiled floor of the hallway. Amy peeked at his dapper ensemble and examined it in surprise.

He’s...actually kind of handsome like this...

Amy shook her head furiously to try and rid herself of the strange thought. Then, once the high heels were no longer audible, Shadow let out a single chuckle...and smirked just a little bit.

While Amy was still processing the first kind-of smile she’d ever seen on Shadow, he unbuttoned his jacket all the way. He slipped a finger into his tie and pulled out the knot entirely to let it hang completely free around his neck. He even unbuttoned the top two buttons on his dress shirt, showing a white patch of fur underneath it. He put his hands in his pockets and strutted defiantly to class, oblivious to Amy’s inner turmoil. She snapped her head forward and tried to ignore the flush she knew had spread across her cheeks.

Why does he look even more attractive when he’s sloppy?!

A week or two passed, and Amy fell into a routine: math class, homework, getting help from Shadow during study period, then math class once more. At one point, she admitted that she felt bad monopolizing his study hour and offered to pay him or leave him alone, but he just looked confused, so she didn’t mention it again.

One day, Amy was checking her schedule at the end of math class, sensing she’d forgotten something important. Shadow packed up his bag and spoke.

“Library as usual tomorrow?”

Amy opened her mouth to answer, but then she cringed. “Shit...I have a dentist appointment tomorrow!”

“Hmph.” Shadow shrugged. “No school. Nice.”

She shook her head. “No, see, I’m only missing half the day. I’ll be here just in time for math class, but I’ll miss study hour!”

“Ah.” Shadow nodded in understanding. “That’s a waste. You get time off, but it’s a study period instead of an actual—”

He was cut off when Amy took his shoulders and started shaking him. “Shadow, you don’t get it!” Panic crept into her tone as she shook him. “If I’m not here for our study period, I won’t get any help, and I won’t be able to do well on my homework, and I’ll fall behind again, and I’ll flunk out and have to run away and join the circus—”

“Amy. Stop.” At his firm command, she froze. His expression was half-amused and half-exasperated as he gingerly removed her hands from his shoulders. “None of that is going to happen, I promise...especially not the circus part...but if it’ll make you feel better, we can work on it somewhere else, okay?”

At the comforting look in his warm red eyes, she relaxed. “Okay.” She thought for a moment, and her eyes lit up. “Can’t we just go to the library after classes are done?”

“The library closes early on Mondays and Tuesdays. It stays open later Wednesday through Friday, and it’s open from ten am to ten pm on weekends. It’s Monday, though, so we won’t have enough time.”

Shadow stared at her and waited, having rattled off his response rapid-fire. Amy’s baffled look made way for a small smile. “You’ve really got those hours down, huh? You must love reading!”

He looked away and scratched the back of his head. “Yeah, something like that.”

Amy thought for a moment more, then shrugged. “We could always just study at my house, if you don’t mind.”

At that, Shadow jammed his hands into the pockets of his school uniform and looked sideways at her. “I’m comfortable with that, but...are you?” he asked tentatively.

Amy looked at him funny. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I—” She cut herself off when she remembered she was talking to Mr. Scariest-Guy-in-School, and that he probably knew that just as well as she did. She smiled and waved it off. “Yeah! For sure!” When he hesitated, she added, “My mom will be there. She gets home early on Mondays.”

Shadow visibly relaxed. He looked off into space, and then something seemed to occur to him. “Oh, but I can’t go right away. I have something to do at the end of the day first. It’ll take maybe fifteen minutes.”

Amy shrugged. “I don’t mind. It’ll give me time to get set up.” And clear off my cluttered desk...and hide all my embarrassing stuffed animals...and make sure I don’t have any weird tabs open on my computer... “I’ll text you my address, okay?”

He paused and shifted his weight to his other foot. “So...how far is it?”

“It’s close.” She typed in the address and sent it. “I normally just walk there.”

She almost missed the way his shoulders relaxed. “Walking distance. Cool.”

Amy nodded happily and put away her phone. “Thanks, Shadow. You really didn’t have to do this.”

“It’s not a big deal.”

Amy snorted. “I still appreciate it, though.” On a whim, she stepped forward and pulled him into a hug, just as she did with her other friends.

Technically speaking, it was the strangest hug she’d ever given. He didn’t push her away, but he didn’t hug back, either. He just stood a little stiffly and waited for her to finish. When she pulled away, his face was completely blank, as if he’d never encountered a hug before and didn’t know how to react.

Amy had to hold back a loud snort of amusement at his lack of response. “I’ll see you in a bit, Shadow!”

She dashed out of the classroom, ignoring the confused students around her and still sensing the inquisitive red eyes at her back. She giggled to herself.

We’ll work on it.

Amy shuffled the last of the clutter under her bed and grinned in satisfaction. Good enough! She peeked out the window. No Shadow yet. She glanced back at her desk and the second chair she’d dragged in, and concern briefly crossed her mind. Maybe it’s a bad idea to choose the desk in my room to share with the kind-of-scary guy I barely know. She frowned. Is this why my dad says I have no sense of self-preservation?

The doorbell rang out, jolting Amy out of her thoughts. She bounded down the stairs to answer it, and her eyes bugged out when she saw Shadow there.

I couldn’t see him anywhere two seconds ago. How fast is he?!

She set her thoughts aside and opened the door for him with a smile. “Hey, Shadow!”

He wasn’t looking at her. Instead, his face was turned upward. He tilted it back down to fix her with a deadpan look. “Your house is huge.”

“Huh?” She was thrown off, but he just walked right inside. “I mean...kind of? It’s not really—Shadow, wait!”

He flinched and stopped. “What?”

Amy stepped past him and pointed to her own socked feet and the shoes lined up neatly at the door. She crossed her arms and tapped her foot. He looked unimpressed, but he rolled his eyes lazily and slipped out of his own shoes. She nodded, satisfied.

Shadow followed her up the stairs. The humbled expression he carried on his face as he looked around didn’t escape her notice, especially when he stepped into her room and blatantly examined its pink and red decor. She held her hands behind her back and looked at him sideways. “Is everything okay?”

His gaze snapped back to her. “It’s really girly.” She hesitantly opened her mouth to speak, but then he slipped his messenger bag off his shoulder. “It suits you.”

He didn’t look at her again as he sat down. She stood awkwardly, mouth open. “Uh...thanks?” He nodded a little, either not comprehending the weirdness of it or not caring. She shook it off and took out her math homework. Was that a compliment? I swear, I’m never gonna figure this guy out.

The two went over the premise of the homework, and Shadow helped iron out the bits she hadn’t gotten in class. While she was working on the second problem, she broke the silence. “So what did you have after school? Anything exciting?”

“Hmph. Not really. It’s the same thing I do every day.”

“And what’s that? Oh, but you don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to—”

Shadow shrugged. “I don’t mind. Sometime last year, a group of guys were bullying this rabbit middle schooler outside the west wing of the school. Teasing her, pulling her ears, shit like that.” She looked up in surprise to see he was fixing the paper in front of him with a searing glare. He shut his eyes and crossed his arms. “So I beat the shit out of them. Turns out she was waiting for her mom, so now I wait with the kid every day after school to make sure it doesn’t happen again.” He opened his eyes again and looked up at Amy, who’d stopped writing. “What?”

Amy snapped her mouth shut, realizing it had fallen open a bit as he told his story. Her heart softened, and she smiled adoringly at him. “That’s so kind of you!”

He fidgeted and looked at her sideways. “Uh...beating people up...?”

His uncharacteristic hesitation and movements reminded Amy that he wasn’t used to being looked at that way. She felt a twinge of pain at the idea, but she pushed it aside. “No, I mean standing up for her! Waiting around every day just to make sure she’s okay. That’s really sweet of you.”

Shadow opened his mouth, clearly unsure of how to deal with the sentiment. He crossed his arms again and shut his eyes. “It’s not a big deal. Anyone else would have done the same.”

Amy wasn’t sure about that, but she didn’t want to argue. Instead, she rested an elbow on the desk and leaned her cheek into her palm to look at him more closely. “Everything people say about you is wrong, huh?” When he just blinked at her, she panicked and backtracked. “I mean—! It’s not like—there are, well...y’know, rumors...and you know how people are...” She cringed and trailed off.

He huffed. “It’s fine, I know what people say about me.” He leaned his arm on the desk and turned his body to face her. “People talk. It happens.”

Amy pouted. “Are you...okay with that?”

He paused, choosing his words carefully. “Being the ‘scary guy’ isn’t always fun, but it’s not all bad. No one messes with you if they won’t go near you.”

Amy thought of the empty desks that always surrounded Shadow and the wide berth he was always given in the cafeteria. She thought of his atypical social habits and the way even a simple hug could throw him off. Her heart stung.

Oblivious, Shadow kept going. “And if no one messes with me, then I can protect other people, too. My family. Kids who are being bullied. And, uhh...” He scratched his head and looked away.

Amy narrowed her eyes in suspicion, and then a bright smile graced her face. “That’s what you were doing in math class, wasn’t it? On the second day, when you sat next to me.”

At the reminder, Shadow’s expression twisted just a little in...embarrassment? He covered half of his face with his hand. “Yeeeaaaahhhh, uh...I may have overdone it. You looked so upset on the first day, like you were about to cry...so I scared off anyone who I thought might upset you again...but by the end of it, I’d scared off everyone, and you were more afraid of me than you were of them.”

Amy matched his cringing face with her own. “Was it that obvious?”

He uncovered his face. “By the time we got around to the math part, you looked like you were about to piss your pants.”

Amy’s expression turned bitter at the image, and then she let out a brief chuckle. “Gotta admit, I was pretty petrified...but I still felt comfortable enough to text you for help, didn’t I? That has to be worth something.”

He scratched his chin and looked up at the ceiling. “So you’re more scared of math than you are of me...” He nodded. “I’ll take it. It’s better than I usually do with people.”

Amy wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry at that. She chose to laugh, and she considered it a victory when she saw him let out the slightest chuckle in response.

By the time they’d hit the five o’clock hour, Amy had been done with her homework for a while, but she hadn’t asked Shadow to leave, and he hadn’t shown interest in going anywhere anytime soon, either. After plenty of surprisingly enjoyable conversation, though, the alarm on Shadow’s phone went off. He squinted at the cracked screen, then showed a face that looked almost disappointed, though it could have been Amy’s imagination.

“I have to get home and make dinner for my family. You all set?”

Amy’s heart sank more than she’d expected it to. “Yeah.” She reluctantly descended the stairs with Shadow in tow.

Once she reached the door, though, her eyes lit up. “Hey, um...” She steeled herself. “Do you want to, maybe...hang out again? Not just for math.” When he just stared at her, she panicked. “Oh, I don’t mean—not in, like...a weird way, I just like talking to you!”

She didn’t know how to say ‘it’s not a date’ without actually saying that, but Shadow seemed to pick up on her meaning anyway. He stared off into space for a moment, then nodded a little, as if mulling it over. He looked back down at her and shrugged. “It’s been a while...but yeah. Sure.”

Amy grinned, then frowned as a sad thought hit her. “Do you not have any other friends to hang out with?”

He frowned a little. “Yeah, but...” He scratched the back of his head idly. “I used to hang out with my friend Rouge a lot, but then she graduated, and now she’s in a training program to become a government spy.”

Amy made an intrigued noise. “Government spy? That sounds impressive!”

“Hmph. Don’t tell her that, she’ll get a swelled head.” He paused and looked away. “We’re still good friends, but she lives three hours away now, so...I don’t have...” He cut himself off and pressed his lips together. “I spend a lot of time by myself these days.”

Sympathy touched Amy’s heart, but she shook it off in favor of smiling up at him. “Well, I’d be happy to be your friend! What do you say, Shadow?” She held out her hand for a handshake.

He looked from her chipper face to her hand. After a moment, a small smirk showed itself on his face. He ignored the hand and pulled her into a quick side-hug. “Sounds good to me.”

After that, he abruptly dashed off with such speed that the wind he whipped up nearly knocked her over. Her heart pounded at his dramatic exit. Once she’d calmed down, Amy smiled.

It was only a quick side-hug...but it’s a start.

[That’s all she wrote...literally. From here, Amy convinces Shadow to join the track team along with her, Sonic, Blaze, and Espio so he can have more friends, and they become a couple along the way. Some people are disapproving at first, but they come around in time. Shadow’s family is also poor, and he’s very dedicated to his chronically ill sister, who winds up being very fond of Amy. I mentioned a few more details in this post.

Cliché? Maybe, but it’s a nice reminder of how far I’ve come as a writer, I think.

Poor anon probably forgot they even sent this ask. I hope they’re still on tumblr to get the notification, lmfao.]

[callme-dickmaster]

Basket Case - (Steve Harrington x reader)

Ch. One - King Steve

cw: 18+ (minors dni) this may be v long, afab!reader, language, minimal use of y/n, bullying, (put this one in second person because I felt it fit better) author's note: hey lol

part 2 >>

Friday, November 4th, 1983

You weren't used to this. Being put on the spot in front of an entire class of twenty other kids didn't happen to you. You thought at this point in your school career, the teachers would know you would either self-destruct or stutter like a moron.

"Ms. Henderson? We're all waiting?" Mr. Mundy sniffed, his runny nose making you want to gag.

"U-uh...uh..." you squeaked before scrunching up your face and dropping your head on the desk. Mr. Mundy sighed while the other kids in the class laughed at you. "Anyway, kids, factorizing the polynomials..." the old man's voice slipped to the back of your mind while you mustered up the courage to move your head to see the board through your hair. You accidentally made eye contact with Claire Sims and immediately averted your eyes to the tile floor.

The dismissal bell rang, and you were the first person out of the room. You stalked down the hallway with your head down and weaved through other students to get to your locker. You hissed under your breath at Eddie Munson doing whatever stupid shit he and his bandmates think is funny in the middle of the hallway next to your locker.

"Hey, y/n," Eddie smiled, leaning on the locker beside you. You smacked your hand on yours and popped it open, making Eddie flinch.

"You have any trouble today?" Eddie asked, twisting some rings on his fingers. You sighed and shook your head, yanking out your biology book and lunch bag. "Figures. Tommy and Carol skipped this morning. Gross..." Eddie wrinkled his nose. You slammed your locker shut and stomped down the hallway, leaving Eddie and his Hellfire friends where they stood.

You slipped into your next class and threw your bag on the floor beside yours and Jonathan Byers' table. "Hi," Jonathan mumbled, sending you a small smile.

You glanced at him, sliding your bologna sandwich across the table to take his PB&J like you did every day. "Bologna again?" Jonathan teased, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. You sighed and nodded, "She knows I hate it. She does it just to slowly kill me from the inside out," you growled. Jonathan chuckled, putting the evil sandwich in his bag.

Mr. Kaminski shuffled into the classroom and mumbled through the lesson, avoiding eye contact with you and Jonathan like the plague until the bell dismissed everyone to the cafeteria. Or, in your and Jonathan's case, to the yearbook dark room so he could develop pictures, and you didn't have to sit alone. You munched on your sandwich and chips, folding your algebra homework into a fortune teller.

"Oh, hey...Will wanted me to thank you for the colored pencils. He loves them..." Jonathan spoke up, smiling at the picture he was poking with tongs. You nodded, tossed your trash, and waved at Jonathan as you walked out. Jonathan waved back and watched you walk to wherever you went after lunch.

You shuffled through the empty halls, enjoying the quiet as you followed cracks in the tile with your eyes. "Oh, God, look at her," Carol Perkins scoffed to her boyfriend and their friends stood in the main hallway. "Jesus, it's like she does it on purpose," Tommy snickered.

Steve Harrington stood from the drinking fountain they were all crowded around. He looked up and down the empty hall, missing you entirely as you slipped around the corner.

"Who?" Steve asked. Carol snorted, "That screwball loser, y/n," she sneered. Steve pursed his lips and nodded, "What's she doing?" he asked the couple.

"She's just fuckin' weird. Like, why does she have to freak everyone out twenty-four-seven?" Tommy laughed. Steve rolled his eyes with a smile.

"Hey, you think Munson put a curse on her or something?" Tommy whispered to Steve. "Like, maybe she wouldn't screw him, and he cursed her for the rest of time?" Carol laughed.

Steve snorted, pulling his bag over his shoulder, "Well, we'll probably never know. I gotta go to history. I'll see you guys," he said, waving to them. Carol smiled and waved before she pulled Tommy in the direction of their next class. Steve sighed, tossing his bag on the floor and greeting his basketball buddies while Mrs. Click rummaged around at her desk for her class papers.

"Okay, everyone! Today, we're going to start on a project," Mrs. Click said to the dismay of the entire class. You straightened a bit in your seat. History was your favorite.

"Please be quiet so I can finish..." Mrs. Click sighed, "You'll be working in groups of two with one group of three. I'll be partnering you up this time. You can thank Mr. Carver for that..." she said, sending a pointed look to Jason Carver, who shrugged with a smug smile on his face. Mrs. Click sighed, sitting at her desk again to slip on her glasses and call out names.

"Okay...Jimmy and Robin..." she started. You laid your head on the desk and started scribbling a drawing of Robin Buckley sitting behind Steve Harrington. "...and Steve and Y/n! Okay! So, go ahead and get comfortable with your partners because this is where you're sitting for the rest of the semester," Mrs. Click said.

Steve couldn't fucking believe it. No way Mrs. Click just partnered him up with a spaz like you. Like, seriously? What did he ever do to her to deserve this?

"Um, hey, Steve? Can Jimmy take your spot? Everywhere else is full," Robin Buckley asked, tapping his shoulder. Steve blinked and nodded, mumbling a "yeah, sorry" before he grabbed his things and crossed the room to the empty seat beside you. You were still in your own world, scribbling away and glancing at Robin every few seconds. You licked your finger and smudged the lead around Robin's feet for shadows.

"Uh...hey..." Steve said awkwardly, sitting in his new seat. You paused, turning to look at him slowly through your hair before looking back down at your drawing. Steve sighed, pulling out his notebook. "Shit," he huffed, mad he couldn't find his pencil.

Smack!

Steve jumped and turned to the lump of black hair and clothing next to him that slammed a mechanical pencil on his desk. You slid your hand into your pocket and pulled out another for yourself. You pumped out the lead and kept drawing as Mrs. Click started handing out directions for the assignment. She tapped you on the shoulder and gave you two pieces of paper. You blew your bangs from your eyes and read over the outline.

Steve tapped his fingers on the desk, awkwardly watching you read over the paper. "D-do I get one? Or..." he trailed off, trying to read it. You smirked, licking a full stripe up your palm to your fingertips. Then, you separated the papers and passed him the one you decided was his. Steve pursed his lips, grabbing it with as little contact as possible.

"Thanks," he mumbled. You giggled and started writing down some ideas you were already well versed in and ones you knew you could do alone if Steve decided he was too good to even try to do the work.

"Alright, you'll have the rest of this class period to work and until next Friday to turn this in. We'll do any presentations the following Monday. Okay, have fun," Mrs. Click said. The class started talking and scooting desks together except for one pair that sat silently while one wrote down ideas and the other watched curiously.

"U-um...I think we should do the sewing machine, the telephone, or the Model-T... I'll let you pick," you said, pushing your paper toward him so he could see your long list of project ideas, including some other things from previous subjects you thought would get extra credit.

Steve let a smile pull at the corners of his lips before he snuck another look at you. You returned to your Robin picture and were bringing out the curls in her hair when Steve spoke again. "You're really into this stuff, huh?" he asked. You just nodded, smudging your art.

"Shit! Did you draw that?" Steve asked, scooting closer to you, which made you move a couple of inches away.

"S-sorry...did you though?" he asked again, raising his eyebrows. You hesitated but nodded, pushing it his way so he could see. "Wow...hey, that's the girl that sits behind me, right?" Steve asked, looking at the drawing up close. You nodded, picking at your fingers and biting your nails.

"I get bored when we talk about stuff I already...know about..." you mumbled, shading in Robin's shoes.

"That's really good. You should show her," Steve said. You shook your head. You would rather die than give anyone you've drawn their picture. Especially a complete stranger you only share a class with. Steve shrugged, "I think you should, but it's your drawing," he said, looking back down at the list and circling two of the subjects you picked.

"How about these?" he asked, passing the paper back. You scratched your nail over the circles and shrugged, grabbing a highlighter and highlighting the two subjects plus an extra credit subject you thought would be good enough.

"I'll be in the library after school until four-thirty. "Don't be late, King Steve," you said before you grabbed your things and fled from your seat. Steve almost got a word in, but you were already across the room, standing in front of Robin. "Here, I drew you," you said, giving her the drawing and walking away. Robin's eyes widened, looking down at the drawing and back up at where you stood two seconds ago.

Steve sighed, tearing a page from his book and writing a note for his new obsession (Nancy Wheeler): "Meet up tonight? Pick you up at 7." He slipped the note into her locker and struggled through his last classes of the day until the bell sounded, and Steve had to sit in the library for two whole hours with you. He was a little scared to see what would happen if he didn't show up.

Walking into the stuffy room, he saw you sitting at one of the tables in the back, doodling away at another picture. "Hey," Steve said, setting his stuff down and grabbing his history books. You glanced at him, closing your drawing and grabbing your books.

The hours flew by faster than you both thought they would. Steve thought your constant silence would drive him crazy, but the moments he did get you to talk were nice. You always seemed to want to say more and talk about whatever was on your mind, but you stopped yourself every time. You were just afraid of getting made fun of. You didn't like Steve very much and knew who he was. Acting all nice and pretending he cared about what you had to say wasn't enough for you to even begin to trust him. He was an asshole, and that was all he would ever be to you. Nothing more.

"So, do you wanna...work on it Monday? Or..." Steve asked, standing with you.

You shrugged, "That's fine. I don't think going to your house would do much good anyway, so, yeah, that's cool," you said, checking your watch and making your way to the exit. Steve furrowed his eyebrows and jogged to catch up to you. "W-why would you think that?" he asked, glancing up and down the hallway.

You rolled your eyes, clutching your books to your chest, "For the exact same reason you're looking around, making sure nobody can see us talking," you said, pushing open the door to the parking lot.

Steve sighed and closed his eyes. He'd been caught. He didn't know why he cared so much if people saw. It's not like he would immediately be labeled a loser if someone saw him hanging out with you. He just didn't want his rep taking any hits...like an asshole... But it's not like he wanted to be friends with you anyway, so it didn't even matter in the first place.

"Look, I gotta go get my brother. See you Monday, Harrington," you said, turning on your heel and walking into the parking lot. Steve sighed, spinning his keys on his finger and going to his car. He sat in the driver's seat, watching you climb into your green Chevelle and toss your bag in the back seat.

You sighed, thankful Dustin's bike was coming out of the shop the next day, and she wouldn't have to drive him around anymore. You loved your brother, but he was a pain in the ass.

"Dustin! C'mon!" you called, rolling your window down. Dustin held up a 'wait' finger to his friends and ran to the car. "Hey, can we take the rest of the party home too?" he asked. You sighed, sending him a look. Dustin pouted, pulling the best puppy dog eyes he could. "Fine. Are they going to their homes, or are you guys keeping me up all night?" you asked as Dustin hopped in the passenger seat. The other party members shoved their bikes into the trunk and squeezed into the back.

"Thanks, y/n!" Will said, buckling in. "Yeah, thank you!" Lucas and Mike said. You sighed and nodded, starting your tape and driving off.

love you <3

[teaboot]

I'm Singaporean, I just saw the posts about schools in Canada vs Korea and now I'm kinda curious how things vary within this half of Asia.

Looking at your questions for the Korean asker, dyeing your hair isn't allowed but how strict the teachers will be about it probably depends on school. My secondary school (age 13-16) had one teacher who made a classmate with (presumably naturally) lighter brown hair dye it black, which was hilarious. If necessary for explanation, it was a Christian school with pretty strict rules on grooming no one had the energy to follow leading up to graduation.

We have uniforms up until you finish secondary school, then it depends on where you go. You have to buy them yourself unless you're on financial assistance or getting some kind of government subsidy, in which case I'm not sure how it works exactly.

And now the actual asking part of this ask: do y'all split math up into different subjects and if so, why??

Kids had to dye their hair to match as a group? What the fuck???? What the hell does hair matter???? Then again... bra straps and shorts don't matter either, and those are restricted everywhere, so maybe school is just dumb everywhere.

And math!!! Not super sure what you mean, but until about grade 10 here in BC all math is taught in one math class that's just "math". In grade 10 you can take precalculus or... the other one? And the idea is that Precalculus is for students going into university and the other one was for students going into trades. You NEEDED precalculus to go on to higher learning, is what we were told.

"Math" was just all math. Multiplication, geometry, algebra, etc.

"Precalculus" was all the basic skills meant to prep for calculus used in STEM stuff- polynomials, trigonometry, more algebra, that junk.

I failed it hard two times but passed the government exam so they weren't allowed to fail me again.

Also I'm good at math so they can kiss my ass now 👍

[algebraic-dumbass]

this might be a dumb question but like. how do you learn math without a class/curriculum to follow. i have a pretty solid calculus understanding and I want to pursue more advanced math but like im not sure where to start. what even is like category theory it sounds so cool but so scary???. do you have any recommendations on specific fields to begin to look into/whether its best to learn via courses or textbooks or lectures/etc.? any advice would be super appreciated!! dope blog by the way

thanks for the compliment!

first of all it's not a dumb question. trust me i'm the algebraic-dumbass I know what I'm talking about. okay so uh. how does one learn math without a class? it's already hard to learn math WITH a class, so uhhh expect to need motivation. i would recommend making friends with people who know more math than you so you have like, a bit more motivation, and also because math gets much easier if you have people you can ask questions to. Also, learning math can be kind of isolating - most people have no clue what we do.

That said, how does one learn more advanced math?

Well i'm gonna give my opinion, but if anyone has more advice to give, feel free to reblog and share. I suppose the best way to learn math on your own would be through books. You can complement them with video lectures if you want, a lot of them are freely available on the internet. In all cases, it is very important you do exercises when learning: it helps, but it's also the fun part (math is not a spectator sport!). I will say that if you're like me, working on your own can be quite hard. But I will say this: it is a skill, and learning it as early as possible will help you tremendously (I'm still learning it and i'm struggling. if anyone has advice reblog and share it for me actually i need it please)

Unfortunately, for ""basic"" (I'm not saying this to say it's easy but because factually I'm going to talk about the first topics you learn in math after highschool) math topics, I can't really give that much informed book recommendations as I learned through classes. So if anyone has book recommandations, do reblog with them. Anyways. In my opinion the most important skill you need to go further right now is your ability to do proofs!

That's right, proofs! Reasoning and stuff. All the math after highschool is more-or-less based on explaining why something is true, and it's really awesome. For instance, you might know that you can't write the square root of 2 as a fraction of two integers (it's irrational). But do you know why? Would you be able to explain why? Yes you would, or at least, you will! For proof-writing, I have heard good things about The Book of Proof. I've also heard good things about "The Art of Problem Solving", though I think this one is maybe a bit more competition-math oriented. Once you have a grasp on proofs, you will be ready to tackle the first two big topics one learns in math: real analysis, and linear algebra.

Real analysis is about sequences of real numbers, functions on the real numbers and what you can do with them. You will learn about limits, continuity, derivatives, integrals, series, all sorts of stuff you have already seen in calculus, except this time it will be much more proof-oriented (if you want an example of an actual problem, here's one: let (p_n) and (q_n) be two sequences of nonzero integers such that p_n/q_n converges to an irrational number x. Show that |p_n| and |q_n| both diverge to infinity). For this I have heard good things about Terence Tao's Analysis I (pdf link).

Linear algebra is a part of abstract algebra. Abstract algebra is about looking at structures. For instance, you might notice similarities between different situations: if you have two real numbers, you can add them together and get a third real number. Same for functions. Same for vectors. Same for polynomials... and so on. Linear algebra is specifically the study of structures called vector spaces, and maps that preserve that structure (linear maps). Don't worry if you don't get what I mean right away - you'll get it once you learn all the words. Linear algebra shows up everywhere, it is very fundamental. Also, if you know how to multiply matrices, but you've never been told why the way we do it is a bit weird, the answer is in linear algebra. I have heard good things about Sheldon Axler's Linear Algebra Done RIght.

After these two, you can learn various topics. Group theory, point-set topology, measure theory, ring theory, more and more stuff opens up to you. As for category theory, it is (from my pov) a useful tool to unify a lot of things in math, and a convenient language to use in various contexts. That said, I think you need to know the "lots of things" and "various contexts" to appreciate it (in math at least - I can't speak for computer scientists, I just know they also do category theory, for other purposes). So I don't know if jumping into it straight away would be very fun. But once you know a bit more math, sure, go ahead. I have heard a lot of good things about Paolo Aluffi's Algebra: Chapter 0 (pdf link). It's an abstract algebra book (it does a lot: group theory, ring theory, field theory, and even homological algebra!), and it also introduces category theory extremely early, to ease the reader into using it. In fact the book has very little prerequisites - if I'm not mistaken, you could start reading it once you know how to do proofs. it even does linear algebra! But it does so with an extremely algebraic perspective, which might be a bit non-standard. Still, if you feel like it, you could read it.

To conclude I'd say I don't really belive there's a "correct" way to learn math. Sure, if you pursue pure math, at some point, you're going to need to be able to read books, and that point has come for me, but like I'm doing a master's, you can get through your bachelor's without really touching a book. I believe everyone works differently - some people love seminars, some don't. Some people love working with other people, some prefer to focus on math by themselves. Some like algebra, some like analysis. The only true opinion I have on doing math is that I fully believe the only reason you should do it is for fun.

Hope I was at least of some help <3

[estrellami-1]

If I Should Stay

Part 1 | . . . | Part 29 | Part 30 | Part 31

Chemistry isn’t any better than Steve remembers it. He shares Algebra with Nancy, though, so they sit together and work through the problems, getting done much faster this time around than he’d remembered doing so the first time.

He catches her looking at him, sometimes, and finally sighs, halfway through a problem. “Look, Nance, I get if this is gonna be weird now. If it would make it easier, we could officially break up. Have a big fight in public where one of us storms off, maybe. If it would help with… with closure, or whatever.”

She narrows her eyes at him. “Even if we painted you as the asshole?”

He smiles. “It’s not like most our classmates don’t already know me as such.”

She shrugs. “Even if we said you cheated on me?”

He’s not fast enough to keep his expression from shuttering. “If… if that’s what would help you-”

“Steve,” she says softly. Almost too softly. “When are you gonna stick up for yourself?”

He ducks his head and chuckles. “Still working on that,” he admits. “I’m fine, though, I can take it. So if you need-”

“Steve,” she interrupts. “We can just break up. Just normal. Like how we did. There doesn’t need to be a big fight or anything, we can just say that we realized we aren’t right for each other.” She tilts her head. “Cause it’s true, isn’t it? We’re not right for each other.”

Steve smiles at her. “You’re very driven,” he murmurs. “It’s something that initially drew me to you. But we weren’t ever gonna make it. I was talking with someone last night, about being compatible. And we just… aren’t, really. I’m not nearly as motivated as you, and I need someone more laid back. You need someone who’s gonna do what he can to help you reach your full potential.”

“And that wouldn’t have been you?”

Steve hums. “I think I would’ve tried my best,” he says. “But I’m still living under my father’s shadow, and the most he’d want you to be is a housewife.” She makes a face, and he laughs. “Exactly. I think maybe if we’d met later, after I’d realized I don’t owe him anything, maybe things would be different. But as it is… I’m being haunted by things that haven’t even happened yet. And won’t, now, because of what we’re trying to do. But that’s not fair to you.”

“And what I did to you wasn’t fair to you,” she says softly. “For what it’s worth, I am sorry.”

He stares at her for a moment, then looks abruptly down at his paper. “So, for number six, I’m still not understanding the polynomials.” He catches her sympathetic smile as she ducks her head to look at where he’s pointing.

“Okay, this is easy,” she says, and it feels like closure.

Still, he drags Robin into an empty classroom later. “Oh boy,” she says. “That’s a Nancy look. What did she do? Do I need to stop being friendly towards her?”

“No, Robs,” he chuckles, pulling her into a hug. “Just… it’s been a day, okay?”

“You can say that again,” she agrees, and wraps him in a hug tight enough he squeaks.

“It was good,” he finally manages. “We talked, during Algebra. Um. She apologized.”

“Oh, Steve,” Robin murmurs, and hugs him even tighter.

He buries his face in her hair. “Love you, Robbie.”

“Love you, dingus,” she murmurs. “Always.”

They stand like that for a few minutes, until the next bell rings and Steve pulls back with an apologetic smile. “Don’t wanna make us late.”

“Screw school,” Robin replies immediately, the way Steve knew she would. “I’m here for you.”

He grins sheepishly at her. “Next class is gym,” he says. “With Eddie. And all the guys I used to be friends with.”

Robin nods knowingly. “And you started burning those bridges with Tommy today,” she adds. “Yeah, okay. Go get your man.”

Steve chuckles and squeezes her one last time. “What class do you have?”

“Art.”

“Ooh,” he teases, because he knows she shares that class with Tammy.

“Fuck off,” she mutters, rolling her eyes and shoving him away.

He just gets right back into her space. She lets him. “Never,” he grins.

She fights down a smile as she pushes past him. “I thought you had gym?”

“Oh, fuck,” he says, and rushes to the lockers.

He can hear her laughter following him all the way.

Because his life must hate him, the gym teacher chooses dodgeball as the activity of the day.

Steve’s good at dodgeball, but he’s never been on the team opposite his friends. He’d always been the captain, and he’d always picked them for a reason: they’re good at the game.

But now it seems like the whole school is aware of his and Tommy’s parting, and they’ve all unanimously decided to side with Tommy.

Not that Steve cares about any of that at all. He’d just like to get through this class without a concussion.

Permanent Taglist: @justforthedead89 @ilovecupcakesandtea @madigoround @bookbinderbitch @suddenlyinlove @nburkhardt @artiststarme @paintsplatteredandimperfect @i-less-than-three-you @alyelf @quarble @messrs-weasley @littlewildflowerkitten @vankaar @starman-jpg @bornonthesavage @steddie-there @goodolefashionedloverboi @andienotannie @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @platinum-sunset @just-ladyme @steddiestains @swimmingbirdrunningrock @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @martinskis-lydias @notaqueenakhaleesi @sleepyboosstuff @bestwifehaver @m-owo-n @thatonebadideapanda @finalmoondragon @velocitytimes2 @callmeanythjing @ajeff855 @ilikeititspretty @knitsforthetrail @sillysparrow @that-one-corvid @ace-is-bored @muricel @harpymoth @weirdandabsurd42

Fic Taglist: @blondlanfear @do-you-want-something-more @str4wb3rry-guy @paperbackribs @ninjapirateunicorns @bisexualdisastersworld @hiscrimsonangel @lolawonsstuff @xo-r4e @thedragonsaunt @l0st-strawberry

[thetoastedalmonds]

Explaining how, within the Lancer universe, paracausal technology actually works mathematically

Long story short, imaginary numbers

Below the cut is my yap

So...hi! Im not a mathematician. If any mathematicians read this, feel free to correct me!

Welcome to Algebra 2 and graphing; as you likely know, graphs are meant to represent physical space. You have x, y, and z of course as our axes.

If you have ever had to solve for a graph, you know the solutions are based upon the number of sides.

I will be discussing this from the point of view of an XY graph, as I haven't gotten to learn how to accurately solve a graph of three dimensional space.

Let's say, for instance, we have a polynomial graph that's degree is x^3. This graph will have three roots, three zeros. However, this does not mean there will be three points in which the line will pass 0 on the graph.

This is where we get into imaginary numbers.

Mathematically impossible solutions which must exist due to the equation they are attached to.

These zeros do not exist on the graph, but still do exist theoretically within the solutions.

What does this have to do with paracausality?

EVERYTHING

Ra himself is, canonically, impossible to have been calculated in real space.

Imaginary numbers are not present within real space, real solutions.

One simultaneous miscalculation, one simultaneous decision of one imaginary zero being counted as a real solution

This also explains the function of Blink Gates

The way blink gates warp space, these are those imaginary zeros. Blink space is where imaginary nunbers are the solutions.

It doesn't make sense because it should be impossible to be a real solution

Going further, the function of the Ushabti Omnigun and the Sisyphus-Class NHP can also both be explained through the usage of imaginary numbers

Alright

So

There's my theory anyways. I hope yall enjoyed this. Do correct me if the explaination seems off.

[marigold-22]

You start with 0 and 1

You get N by taking the free monoid of {1} and having its identity =0

You get Z by extending the free monoid on {1} to the free group on {1} and noting that Z has exactly one possible ring structure(Ring not Rng just to be clear)

You get Q by finding the smallest possible field containing Z.

You then equip Q with an order relation and a metric, but technically since we are constructing the reals it isn’t actually a metric it’s just a function satisfying all of the metric axioms but going to Q instead of R, this almost metric but not quite a metric then induces a topology. We define a Cauchy sequence as a sequence (a_n) such that for every sequence j_n of naturals with j_n<=n the sequence d(a_n,a_(j_n)) goes to zero. We then define an equivalency class on all Cauchy sequences by, (a_n)~(b_n) iff the sequence (a_n-b_n) goes to 0. We then define addition and multiplication to be component by component. We now have the reals.

In order to get the complex numbers you take the space of real polynomials and quotient out x^2+1.

Ps if I made any mistakes please tell me

[softantlers]

for the lottienat prompts, maybe lottie and nat as pen pals meeting irl for the first time?

You sent this ten years ago. 😭 I'm working with a pre-crash / no-crash dynamic, and I sort of adapted from pen pals, hope that's okay!

Natalie was playing Hot Hands with Kevyn Tan in the back of their shared Algebra class. Under the incessant hum of the projector blasting equations on the whiteboard, the best friends struggled to keep their antics quiet enough to avoid the ire of Ms. Russo. Thankfully, the math teacher had her back turned and was standing at the front of the class, where she scribbled about polynomials with a faded Expo marker.

"No, shut the fuck up, oh my god, don't you fucking dare..." Kevyn whispered, watching Natalie's hands underneath his own. Looking at Kevyn, Natalie's chest ached with suppressed laughter. The boy's face had all the wariness of a swimmer who had just spotted a shark fin. Trying not to lose it, Nat twitched her fingers and faked him out every few seconds. When she finally made her bid to slap his hands, the sound was absolutely appalling in the quiet classroom, and all the students around them jumped. For his part, Kevyn flinched so hard that he knocked his textbook clean across the room.

Ms. Russo rounded on them as the book hit the ground. "Kevyn Tan," she growled. In a flash, Natalie crossed her arms over her chest as she feigned innocence and peered down at her own textbook. Kevyn gaped at her, imminently betrayed. When Ms. Russo ordered him to stand outside, he muttered, "Asshole." But he was smiling goofily as he loped away.

Natalie was resolving to lay low for the rest of class when she noticed the writing on Kevyn's empty desk. Someone had scribbled looping words into the worn wood. She squinted, stifling a groan when she realized the person in question had used a pink glitter Sharpie: "Of all the ways to lose someone, death is the kindest." Natalie blinked. What the fuck? Intrigued, she dug an off-brand black marker out of the backpack at her feet. When she was sure Ms. Russo wasn't looking, she leaned over to write on Kevyn's desk: "Okay, princess."

--

As she returned to class with Kevyn, the duo slumping into their respective seats the next day, Natalie noticed more pink on her friend's desk. The boy protested, squinting when she shoved his textbook into his lap so she could read.

"What are you doing?"

"Trade desks with me," she demanded. Kevyn blinked, a little too stoned from their lunchtime smoke sesh to notice the writing. Ultimately, he shrugged and relented, grumbling as they switched seats.

Nat looked down at her new desk: "Better a princess than a clown," shot back the pink Sharpie.

"You little bitch," she laughed. She wrote it down.

It went on like this for a while. Each day, she would come back to a new message from Pink Sharpie. Each day she would leave her own snippy comeback in black. When Kevyn teased her about it, she told him to fuck off, but he was always giggling when she pulled out the marker. After a few weeks, the desk was bursting with vandalism. It was getting to the point where Nat was running out of ink and they had barely any space left to write. At first, the back-and-forth was purely insults, but when they reached the right side of the desk, it evolved into a guessing game about each other.

Pink: "I bet you think being a reject makes you special."

Black: "I bet you think being liked makes you important."

Pink: "I think you're a burnout."

Black: "Says the future trophy wife."

Sliding into her desk, Nat was practically salivating for the day's fresh insult. But what she saw made her pause: "You think I'd be a trophy?" She scratched her ear and frowned. The fervor that usually inspired her quips was gone. Unsure exactly what she was feeling, she decided she probably did need to pay attention to Ms. Russo's lecture if she wanted to skate by with a C this semester. So she skipped writing back. Just for today.

--

"Hey--" burst out Natalie when she realized the girl was scrubbing the writing off her desk. For her part, the girl flinched, eyes widening when she caught sight of Natalie.

Kevyn was playing hooky because his brother had scored Tomb Raider and they had crashed out hard after spending all night playing it on their Sega Saturn. So Natalie went to Algebra alone. Since she didn't waste time fucking with Kevyn in the halls, she got there a bit earlier than usual. The class was mostly empty, except for a girl--fucking tall--standing at the back with a rag and a squirt bottle in hand.

Suddenly, Ms. Russo floated like an absolute ghoul from the classroom closet and strode forward to assess Natalie's desk. She had more cleaning supplies in hand. "That'll teach you, Lottie Matthews," the teacher growled to the girl. "Didn't your father raise you better than vandalism?"

"He sure did," replied Lottie, casting a curious glance toward Natalie. When Ms. Russo noticed the blonde, she gave a long-suffering sigh. "I know you're part of this, Natalie. Get to work." And then she was cutting the distance between them and shoving another squirt bottle and rag into Natalie's surprised hands. Without further ado, Ms. Russo departed the classroom, barking down the halls for people to stop running.

Natalie and Lottie stared at each other for a long moment. Lottie was... Well, she was something. What, like six fucking feet tall? And she had shiny hair and not a zit to speak of on her face. Natalie opened her mouth and closed it, unsure what to make at this reveal. Her infamous pen pal had a face... And, um, a body.

"You're not what I expected," Lottie finally said, smiling a little as she bent over to continue swirling her rag across the desk.

"What does that mean?" asked Natalie, approaching the other girl with a prickle at her neck.

Lottie shrugged ambiguously. Suddenly nervous and unsure why, Nat struggled to maintain eye contact as she started scrubbing the desk alongside the taller girl.

After a few quiet minutes, Lottie knocked her shoulder against Natalie's. "When's your lunch period?" she asked. In such close proximity, Nat observed that Lottie Matthews smelled like some kind of orangey... floral... thing. It wasn't a bad smell.

"Third," she answered.

"Guess I'll have to skip Chemistry to eat with you tomorrow," Lottie sighed.

At this, Nat looked up. She cut a glance sideways before returning it to Lottie and laughing softly. "That's kind of... forward."

"I am," Lottie acknowledged.

[aorish]

imagine having an awkward teenage crush on someone and then actually getting to kiss them and see them naked and then sneaking off over the weekend and getting high and having sex and curling up with them under the blankets. and then getting the munchies and eating taco bell with someone you just fucked while you both cant stop giggling, and then sneaking back home at 3am with nobody any the wiser.

and then you have to be in math class at 7:45 in the morning and pretend to care about polynomials. maybe you had time to shower

[internetgiraffekid1673]

Guys. I'm a little twisted I think.

I got home from work today and felt kinda trashy. My body was sore, my brain felt foggy like it was slogging through mud, and I just wanted to sleep, but it was too early to go to bed.

So you know what I did to feel better about life?

Math. I kid you not. I googled "operations with polynomials worksheets with answer keys" and filled 4 notebook pages just playing with polynomials like they were legos. About halfway through my dad decided to just sit on my bedroom floor and play guitar, and we sang together while I played with polynomials.

And it WORKED. I feel like 9 times betrer about my life now. My brain is clearer, and I feel like I'll get actual good sleep if I go to bed. I don't even feel like I wasted that time. I just feel good.

I should also mention that I haven't been to an algebra class in like 2 years. Anyway, moral of the story, if you feel like trash, do some math it might help.