#midterm in mathematics

[glitterynina]

Day 2

I wasn't productive as I thought I would be today but compering to my past self I did a lot , I feel like can save the semester I just need to mange my time more because I spend a lot of it doing samll progress

[catscomputerscreativewriting]

theory of computation/computability and complexity/whatever your institution calls it is the universal computer science hazing ritual.

[cocoaloveee]

december 18 ˚ · • . ° .

hellooo!

i studied all day yesterday for my math test, my chemistry test, and my history seminar and here’s how they went! >.<

math .・゜

-it was actually very easy i got a 98!

chemistry .・゜

-so funny thing we had a sub and she gave us the test from two units ago and won’t give us the actual one until tomorrow :(. so now i have to keep studying so i dont forget anything

history .・゜

-I was one of the only 4 people speaking during seminar out of a class of 18 + i completely filled my notebook with notes so i got a 100!

im stressing so much about after winter break because it’s going to be midterms and we only have 3 days to study, that’s not enough time at all

[cusimmrbrightside]

I have always liked the idea of the school for mutants being very literally a school, and I know yes it is but I mean in the sense of if you want to be an X-men, you have to be a teacher. They have exams at the end of years, they have Ofsted checks (for those who don’t know what they are, it’s essentially people coming to check that the school is good at being a school) and they have teachers for every subject, which brings me to my next point;

“I’m Right You’re Wrong, Here’s What The X-Men (‘97 specifically) Would Teach As Subjects”.

(Also this is based off of UK school system but I use American terms like “seniors” and “AP” and “Midterms”)

Maths Teacher Gambit is surprising, for a guy most assume to not being entirely smart, an idiot goof off who’s the comedic relief. But you need to know numbers to gamble, and that he does with being very well versed in mathematics way past an AP level. He’s made the promise for every senior class that he will teach them to play blackjack on the final day, and has only ever lost once. Which is when the rule of “no betting real money” came into place.

English teacher Jean reminds me of the kind of teacher who would let the social outcasts into her class for their lunch breaks. The kids more likely to be bullied and she will fight tooth and nail to make sure those kids bullies don’t come into that classroom. they’re loud and shout and shouldn’t really be in there but no one has to know and she certainly won’t be telling them to leave any time soon.

Physics teacher Magneto is very specific to my highschool experience I’ll be honest. I had a physics teacher who was an actual Dr with a PHD and he hated being there. His classroom has (well, had since the building was knocked down about 5 years ago now) this one cabinet that was never fully shut, it was always open just about an inch or two, and he’d stand with his foot hovering just above it and then slam down on it whenever we got too loud so the noise would shut us up. That’s very magneto coded. Erik Lehnsherr would purposefully make the cabinet always a little open so he can do that.

Biology teacher morph is just a funny concept, a person whose physical form and change and morph into just about anything. They are considered one of the “fun” teachers, you could easily convince them to let you watch a movie all class as long as it was biology centred, but with classics like Osmosis Jones, you’re not stuck watching a documentary about animals giving birth.

Chemistry teacher Storm does not fuck about with children’s education. She is not strict by any means whatsoever, she just will not bend to someone saying they want to watch a film or should do a practical instead of theory. She has a set curriculum. She knows what she will be doing by the first week of the summer holidays and already has the room set up all pretty and organised.

Geography teacher Scott has the unfortunate job of telling his students that, they just won’t be looking at memorising country flags and politics. But hey!! Rocks are cool!! Beach shores are cool! Lake formations are cool! He’s the vice principal and designated nerd teacher. He once beat the elite four for a student on their copy of Pokémon Red because the student promised they’d do well in their midterms. Yes, he was in his 30s when the game came out, he doesn’t care.

History teacher Logan is a walking fun facts book. He’s exhausted, goes on smoke breaks on every gap of time he has, dislikes his job and will randomly get passionate about one specific topic, and will then dedicate his next 4 classes to that topic. Having been through a lot of modern history with personal experiences, he’s able to bring a lot of souvenirs to show his classes. Bullets, helmets, clothes he once wore hundreds of years ago, his personal memories of basic inventions like the vaccine.

PE (physical education) teacher Rogue is full of fun sports games, you can join any kind of sports team you can imagine and if you ask nicely enough, she’ll put Just Dance on a projector in the sports hall so you can just play that instead of actually play an actual sport. As long as you leave her class exhausted and without time to have a shower before your next class then she’s succeeded in making whoever your next teacher is absolutely miserable (bonus points if it’s Logan with his enhanced sense of smell).

Art teacher jubilee does believe that there is a right way to critique art. And she can be a little in your face about it. She does think you can have wrong opinions especially when it comes to your own art. If she overhears you saying you didn’t something wrong, she’ll scream into a megaphone “adapt, improvise, overcome!”. There are no mistakes! She’s eccentric, bubbly, creative and brilliant, the only one suited for the job.

It wouldn’t be a school without budget cuts. That’s why Nightcrawler is both the languages and religions teacher and he’s beloved at both. He comes up with roleplay scenarios the students can play to help learn their chosen languages, he has varied religious texts in his room and when he says to the students “I’ll pray for toy during exam season” he’s not actually joking.

(I forgot about Hank I’m actually going to cry he’s one of my favourites and I forgot about him. He’ll be in pt two or smth.)

[criminallyvenomous]

Anytime, Always - Spencer Reid X Reader

• Plot - When Dr. Reid came to speak at your University, you were thrilled. A big-time F.B.I. agent at your own school, how could you resist? Soon, that wasn’t the only thing you couldn’t resist. Random meet ups and nights together were fun at first, but when he started guest lecturing on a regular? That was a whole new experience.

•Ship - Spencer Reid X Reader

• Fandom - Criminal Minds

• Warnings - Age gap (legal consenting adults), Fluff, Eventual smut, Pining, and of course a warning you might fall for Spence even harder post reading)

• Word Count - 1,504

~

“You wouldn’t even believe how swamped I am with schoolwork right now. I can’t imagine taking three hours out of my day to go see a seminar, I’m sorry.” You told your friend, Emma as you packed your backpack with your supplies, due to the ending of your shared class.

“You invited me!” She replied, laughing at how messy your weeks have gotten with midterms coming closer.

“I know, I know.” You ran your hand through your hair as you shook your head. “I just, ugh. I don’t know.”

“Oh, come on. It’ll cheer you up! It’s an F.B.I. agent on campus, talking about serial killers and weird kinky stuff. Aren’t you obsessed with that genre on T.V.? Besides, his photo’s up in the hall, and the guy is a total smoke-show.” She persuaded.

“Okay, fine. You convinced me. Let’s just grab a quick lunch before we head over.”

You had begun to realize she was right, this was going to cheer you up. When it was announced that Dr. Reid from the F.B.I.’s very own Behavioral Analysis Unit was coming to speak at your university, you ordered tickets the same day. His photo was striking, but so was his biography. A multi-PhD owner with one of the coolest jobs in the country, how could you have possibly said no?

The venue began to fill and to say Spencer was anxious was an understatement. Sure, he had done a few talks at colleges before, but only ever with the team. Whenever he even tried to do his own part of a presentation, whether with Rossi or Emily, his jokes always fell flat and the room cold.

He decided to take a quick peek at the crowd, not sure if it would calm or heighten his nerves. It was about what he expected, young adults and a few older. There were a lot of students on their phones or talking to each other, a few with notebooks and pens or pencils to take notes. There were even the additional couple with laptops or iPads. He preferred to work on paper, but as the times have evolved, so have his thoughts on tech. Notes were notes.

He headed backstage and made brief small talk with the Dean before she went on to introduce him.

“Ooh, It’s starting!” Emma whispered into your ear, earning a “Shh” from you.

“Students, I am very pleased to be the one introducing Dr. Reid today. I first met him when he was a budding star of the Bureau, now he’s rather well known in several fields for his vast knowledge. A graduate of CalTech with an eidetic memory, Dr. Reid holds PhDs in Mathematics, Chemistry, and Engineering. He also has bachelor’s in Psychology, Sociology, and Philosophy. It’s no wonder he was scouted into the F.B.I. and joined the Behavioral Analysis Unit at just twenty-two years of age. His work with the team has helped bring countless criminals to justice and well, I’ll let him take it from here. Dr. Spencer Reid everyone!” She announced, your Dean was an older woman with connections to just about anyone. It was only last year a Youtube star and NBA player spoke at your university.

“Wow, thank you for your kind words, Dean Taylor.” Spencer said as he headed onto the stage, mic’d up.

You were already excited, but seeing his face in person was a whole new level of attractive than his photo. He began to do his speech, but you were distracted by every little thing about him. His height first of all, almost unnaturally tall and slender, but fit nonetheless. He wore a lighter blue button down with a darker blue tie, a black cardigan draped over. It was a tad oversized, hanging over his slacks. You followed his hands as he used the pointer to showcase details of each slide behind him. His hands were appropriately sized to his lankier frame, but his long fingers caught your attention, almost being impossible to look away from.

“This is when the case got interesting, we had determined that despite the team’s initial inclinations, there was most certainly a satanic note in these killings. Does anyone have a theory or comment on the case so far?” He asked the room, you looked around before making your eyes to the board, trying to catch up.

“You said Salem? That’s creepy.” Some guy towards the back of the audience called out, not having raised a hand.

“Creepy is right. There’s definitely a connection to the witch trials, can anyone tell me what?” You could tell he didn’t have a lot of experience leading these seminars or lectures, but he could still keep an audience’s attention. You decided to raise your hand.

“Yes, red shirt in the fourth row?” He asked you.

“You said the victims were drowned, could this have been a test of innocence?” You guessed.

“Precisely.” He smiled. You couldn’t help but smile back.

The rest of the talk went without a hitch, and Spencer had decided to stay and take questions from the students. The Bureau told him to try and earn some interest in the F.B.I. from students with promise. He headed to grab a water and a snack before he began the Q&A section.

“That was great, Dr. Reid. David was right in suggesting you. It’s been a pleasure having you on campus.” Dean Taylor said, putting her hand onto his shoulder, reassuringly.

“Thank you so much, Dean. It was a pleasure being here. To be honest, I missed the college environment. It’s part of why I kept coming back.” He half-joked.

“We’re looking for some returning guest lecturers, if you’re interested and the commute’s not too much.”

“That’d be great, actually. I’ll talk with my team lead. Just send me any information you have or need.” He couldn’t help but be amused at the thought of teaching, even if only temporarily and as a guest. He liked sharing his knowledge to well, anyone that would listen.

“I’ll let you get back out there. Let me know if you need anything at all.” She stated and he nodded in response.

There were fewer students who stayed back than he expected, which was honestly a relief to him. Among the few, was you. He had internally added you to the list of people to talk to about an interest in the F.B.I., but was shocked at just how beautiful you were now that he could get a proper look.

“Dr. Reid, can you tell us more about your involvement with child abductions? How many end in a non-horrifying manner?” Some girl ahead of you asked.

You waited your turn, purposefully putting yourself at the end of the line to ensure extra time with the doctor.

“Red shirt, fourth row.” He recalled, you laughed.

“Y/N. It’s an honor to meet you.” You extended a hand and he hesitated before shaking it.

“You too.” He pushed a stray hair behind his ear and gestured you to take a seat across from him. He was sitting on the edge of the stage, with his legs folded like a kid. It was endearing. “So, what question did you have for me, Y/N?” God, you were glad he knew your name.

“Um, I’m sorry, I totally forgot.” You were embarrassed, “To be honest, I’m completely starstruck right now. You’re a legend in your fields and not to mention astonishingly attractive. It’s too much, how are you even real?” You rambled, chuckling awkwardly.

“Same way you are, I guess.” He meant it as a joke on humanity, but it came off as a flirt. “I mean, like we all are just specks of dust on a floating rock, right?” This time he awkwardly laughed. You think you even see his cheeks redden.

“Absolutely.” You smiled.

“So, are you interested in joining the Bureau?”

“The thought has crossed my mind.”

“Well then, you should take my card.” He pulls out a business card from his back pocket and hands it to you. “You can reach me at that number or the email with any questions you might have.”

“What if I don’t have any questions? Can I still reach out to you?” You tried your best to flirt, when would you ever get a chance like this again?

“Hmm, what year are you? You’re undergrad right?” He was reminded of your age difference and just wanted to make sure you were at least semi-appropriate, considering the possible power dynamics that could be in place.

“Yeah, I’m a fourth year. Twenty-two this year. What are you, thirty?” You laughed lightly, he smiled.

“Thirty-four.” He corrected.

“So…” You trailed off. “About that number,”

“You can contact me anytime, Y/N.”

“Here, I’ll give you ‘my card’.” You joked, pulling a page from your notepad and scribbling down your information before handing it to him.

He looked down at it and smiled.

‘Y/N L/N xxx-xxx-xxxx anytime’

part two story masterlist

[goosewithtwoos]

OIL AND WATER

pairing: Bob x Reader

Summary: Your days at the Naval Academy were stressful. You needed some stress relief

"Floyd." You groan as he pushes his thigh between yours.

The two of you had been studying for your midterms in the library, numbers slowly blurring together as your eyes began to close.

Mathematics had never been your strong suit. You had enlisted in the Marines after highschool, did two years and then transferred to the Academy. It had been too long since you'd looked at a math problem and it was biting you in the ass.

Floyd, on the other hand, was a genius when it came to arithmetic. He had offered to tutor you and you had graciously accepted.

That was also how you found yourself in this current predicament.

Putting the textbooks back on the shelf had led to Floyd's arm accidentally trapping you in. Which led to you looking up at him, batting your lashes, and the rest was history.

You were both hungry and tired and stressed. Your life was dedicated to studying and preparing to commission, you didn't have time to do much else. But now, you were taking all the time you wanted.

Floyd's thigh was pressed right between your legs, giving you something to rock your hips against.

The friction felt like heaven. Living with two other girls meant you didn't have much time to get off. He tenses his thigh, giving you something even better to grind on.

Strong arms wrap around you, one pressing against the small of your back while the other gripped the back of your neck. It was so possessive, so needy, so unlike him. It drove you wild.

He presses you higher up against his thigh, his lips never leaving yours.

At a particularly good movement of your hips and his thigh, you gasp, eyes flying open, bodying slumping.

"Shh," He coos. "Can't get caught." He presses a kiss against the side of your mouth. The cool metal of his glasses felt nice against your flushed face.

"Floyd," You mutter. He presses another kiss against your cheek while you try to compose yourself. "Feels so good."

He hums, the hand on your back beginning to rub soothing patterns that you would later think about and think as sweet. But right now, his hands on you, your heart felt like it was going to explode in your chest.

You raised yourself onto your tip toes and he took the opportunity at your new height to lift you more, pressing your back against the shelves. You could feel the shelf beneath your ass, almost like you were sitting on it. Thank God they were bolted to the wall otherwise you were sure you'd knock them over.

It was impossible to stop your hips from moving. You had been so pent up, so long since you'd last felt someone against you.

"Fuh-Floyd." You whisper as your mind short circuts. The friction against your clit was addictive. The hand from your neck came forward to your chest, grabbing your breasts and massaging them through the fabric.

You had never been into that before but the way they fit into his hands felt so right. He moans into your mouth and the sound gave you the encouragement to get more handsy yourself.

Your hands grab his wasit, thumbs running across his abdominals. In this position, it was easier to move his hips on your own accord.

You were never one to act out on emotions like this, but with Floyd, it was easy to drop your resolve. You didn't have to be the hard ass everyone knew you as. You didn't have to hold your bearing as he kissed you like the world was soon ending.

Floyd kept you moving against him until the feeling bubbled up into your throat. Your heart felt like it was going to explode out of your chest.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." You groan, head rolling back. The books behind you softened the blow ever so slightly. No amount of pain could take you away from this moment.

"That's it, that's a good girl." Bob was saying. "Come on, get yourself off on me. Good girl." He stretched out the 'o' in the final good, western accent slowly making its appearance. Your hooded eyes found his face only to realize he wasn't even looking at you, he was looking at your hips. Why not give him a show?

Your hips swivel, spelling out your name, first and last, before it became too much.

"Come on, good girl." His accent was in full swing and you felt more like he was taming a horse than talking to you.

"Floy-" You weren't able to even get his name out before his hand slapped over your mouth. It was a good thing he did because you came with a moan only a few moments after and he was able to muffle the sound.

Your eyes closed, head falling forwards this time onto his shoulder.

You felt his chest shudder as his hands gripped your ass like a vice. He pulled you up against him one last time and before you could cry out about the overstimulization, he came into his trousers.

He slowly let you down, hands moving to your waist. His glasses went askew as he placed his forehead against yours. You both were panting but it was the best feeling you've had in a while.

"Good job being quiet." He chuckles.

"Good job keeping me quiet." You reply, looping your arms around his shoulders and around his neck.

"There's uh...there's a 96 coming up soon. Want to do something?" His voice was small, like he was almost expecting rejection.

You press a small kiss to the underside of his jaw.

"As long as I don't have to be quiet."

[vesna-v-irkutske]

In the 6th grade Nikita was enrolled in a math class. But he didn't gravitate towards science.

Marina Lytkina recalls: "The teacher had no pedagogical education, she's a programmer. And she interacted with the children as if they were students, she didn't explain anything to them. She corrected mistakes in the notebooks and said that they should have listened in class. People have never understood that he's not like everyone else: he will never ask for anything, always silent. Nikita stopped studying in the 8th grade. He began to skip classes, including in the main subject — mathematics. But back then, he was still listening to me."

But soon Nikita stopped obeying his mother. He studied at the energy college for a some time. He was expelled from there after failing the first midterm exams. The following year, in September 2010, he began attending classes at the construction college. Two months later, he and Artyom went on their first hunt.

The energy college. The construction college.

Studying at the construction college turned into trouble.

Marina Lytkina: "At first, Nikita was teased and bullied. And then they started extorting money from him. Then he was patronized by one of his classmates, and in return, together with the older guys, he demanded money — in other words, he engaged in extortion. They came to our apartment together and took everything they found. First, they took some money, then they took my walkman, and the last time they stole the gold. Nikita followed them like a steer. It was impossible to hide the loss. I found out everything and called the police. A criminal case was opened."

Later, Marina recanted the statement to the police — she didn't want that boy to be imprisoned.

One of Nikita's college classmates, talking about him. Read it from the bottom up.

[that-starlit-wanderer]

I've been very critical of Obama and his legacy since the election this year, in large part because I think he completely failed at the job of being the de facto head of a political party (despite not being a parliamentary system, the president in the US does play that role).

When he was elected in 2008 he inherited a massive House majority and a Senate supermajority. During his presidency his party was absolutely annihilated in two separate midterm elections. At the state level in particular the Democratic Party was in tatters; I can remember there being a lot of talk in the mid-late 2010s about how Democrats basically had no "bench" of presidential contenders because they've been so thoroughly decimated in gubernatorial races and other downballot elections in the first part of the decade.

And all this was just years after Republicans had been apparently swept out of power for a generation after the disasters of Iraq and the financial crisis had discredited them so badly!

The losses in the 2010 midterms in particular are something Democrats have arguably never recovered from, both from a redistricting pov and also because that election marks a point of no return for their standing in rural America in particular. When the new Congress took office in 2009, Democrats had senators from Alaska (1), Arkansas (2), Florida (1), Indiana (1), Iowa (1), Louisiana (1), Missouri (1), Montana (2), Nebraska (1), South Dakota (1), and West Virginia (2). That's 14 senators from what are now red states. Six years later when the new Congress took office in 2015 for the last two years of Obama's second term, only 5 of those 14 were still in office, and with Tester losing in Montana this year and Manchin retiring, there are now zero Democratic senators left from any of those states.

(For all that senators like Manchin rightfully get a lot of grief, it's mathematically impossible for Democrats win a workable Senate majority without red-state senators, at least based on what states are currently considered "red.")

Maybe that trend was inevitable with the increasing nationalization of congressional races, but it's still hard for me not to be critical of Obama given the wave of support he came into office with and the weakness of the Republican Party at the time, and the way he (imo) completely squandered that in ways that are still being felt.

[vhstown]

ain't no love; pt. 1

"ain't no love in the heart of the city"

— miles g morales x gn!reader series

SUMMARY: Miles Morales is just a kid without a father; the Prowler is just a "rotten" vigilante. Both of them start coming into your life — one in the middle of the semester, and the other by total accident.

SERIES MASTERLIST 📼 PART 1 / PART 2 →

chapter summary: [READER POV] The one day you decide to skip breakfast, your deskmate comes in. AP Calc has never been more unbearable — and interesting.

content/warnings: brief mentions of death, depictions of hunger, a little bullying </3

word count: 4.8k

a/n: first series idk what im doing BUT WE ROLL (criticisms accepted lmao) proofread courtesy of @qiuweyballs you're a real one

You were starving. In AP Calc, no less, with probably the least talkative bunch of students in the whole school, the period before lunch. Whoever made your schedule was a monster, and whoever put this class together was even more of a monster. Everyone was dead silent, which was usually fine, but not when your stomach was threatening to detonate a nuclear grumble. Maybe it’d even echo given how big the classroom was. It was too early in the year to have a mental breakdown, though — you’d save that for midterms.

Even the teacher found the silence awkward, muttering to himself as you walked into the dreary classroom. He was a bit of a pushover, Mr. Wellston — a newbie who really had no idea what he was doing besides fixing his unevenly cut hair every two seconds while everyone pretended to know what was going on. God bless AP Calculus; you didn’t even know how to do the starter activity on the board.

But your teacher’s ridiculous inadequacy didn’t matter right now. The most important decision you had to make was what poor soul you were going to look at sideways when everyone turned to the source of the growl. Being nice wasn’t exactly an option when you were 3 seconds away from dying of starvation.

Thankfully, you were at the back, and the only seat next to you was empty. It wasn’t so bad, you tried convincing yourself as other students started to fill up the seats in front of you. Maybe you'd even forget about how hungry you were if you engrossed yourself in "one of the most riveting fields of mathematics", as advertised by your freshman year math teacher. Just one hour. You could hold back your hunger for one hour.

"Attendance..." Wellston murmured, looking around the room without much attention. It was reasonable to assume was here as usual, except for one kid who'd been absent since the first week. "Morales" — you didn't know his first name, not like you had the chance to learn it.

Scribbling down whatever activity there was, a part of you was glad this kid wasn't here today. It was one less person to hear the result of your unfortunate choice to not have breakfast this morning. You'd never spoken to the kid, but everyone knew why he wasn’t here. The renowed "hero", PC Davis had passed away — his dad. It was all over the news: "PDNY OFFICER DIES SAVING A CHILD", around mid-freshman year. You couldn't guess what was going on with the kid almost 2 whole months into sophomore year, but you couldn’t exactly think too hard when your pen had barely touched the page, and your other hand was clawing into the side of your shirt.

You were sure your stomach was going to growl, and loud. And your teacher was looking at you. Pretty much every muscle in your face was straining. You probably looked insane, which you’d actually rather be right now. The worst he would make was a bad joke, but the sheer panic that rose in your chest when Mr. Wellston started to walk towards you made your heels dig into the ground, ready to bolt out the class. You were exhausted, anxious, praying to anything you could think of that your teacher would just turn around and stop looking at you and—

Creak... Everyone's eyes, including Mr. Wellston's, turned to the door. You could make out someone with a black jacket — teacher? They wouldn’t let you wear jackets inside. Not important. Water.

"Nice seeing you here, Morales," Wellston said, his expression as unamused as he could attempt. The pushover was feeling confident today.

You drank so much water that it got stuck in your throat for a moment, making you scrunch up your face. "I'd take off that jacket if I were you,” Wellston continued.

The boy obliged with an incoherent mumble, stepping into the classroom and slipping off his jacket. His eyes landed on the seat right next to you. Even if he wasn't looking at you, something about his gaze made you look away immediately. Great. 53 minutes until lunch. Why did he have to show up today? Why did you wake up late and skip breakfast? A part of you was telling you it’d be better to not blame it on this guy either — maybe it was your gut. Ha-ha. Maybe you were insane.

Screeech! The slap of a notebook next to you snapped you out of your mini-spiral. You were now all the more aware of the boy next to you. His attendance was so low that it competed with your will to live, so you couldn’t help but look. His hair was in two braids slipping just past his collar, but that’s all you dared to notice. They were kind of cool, you admitted to yourself. The muttering was quickly shut down by a grating "Focus!" from Wellston, and you tried to get back to your work.

Calculus, calculus... When was the last time you’d gotten a question right? All you could do was keep uselessly pressing the fraction button on your calculator, watching the empty boxes stack up. It felt like he was staring at you. Math, come on, you know math. What was the probability he was looking at you? What if he was just glancing at you? What was his eye colour? Black or dark brown, probably. You could check — if he was staring, of course. Not his eye colour. That'd be weird.

That tight feeling built up in your stomach like the foreshock of an earthquake. You pictured yourself slamming your head into the desk, far too vividly to be normal — like an insane person. No need to traumatise the “new” kid on his first day back.

"Alright class, considering we have a full house now," You stopped yourself from imagining Wellston’s head slammed into a desk. "I suggest you all try to solve this problem. It's the hardest question that's ever come up on Calc BC, and you're getting secret access to it."

Yeah, like you cared. This man did not have a lesson plan, as usual. Now you had to fight the urge to look at the kind of cool kid next to you, fight your hunger like a famished Victorian child and fight the stupid calculations forming a jumbled mess in your brain. You were fighting a lot of things, and losing miserably. Just looking at the question made your brain hurt, and you could see it in the rest of your class too. All Calc BC nerds who were just now realising their mistake in taking this class with this particular teacher, probably. Visions was a scam.

"Does anyone have an answer?" It hadn't even been two minutes; it was like the man just wanted to feel smarter than everyone else. Something about him today was even more annoying than the pitiful jokes he usually came up with ― just because a "new" kid came in? Maybe this was to make up for the first day of class where he totally embarrassed himself mumbling all lesson, the bell ringing overtop of him.

The awkward silence and the slight cocky curl to the corner of Mr. Wellston's mouth made you question why they hired someone who was fresh out of college to teach you the classes that were supposed to get you into college. Your frustration only grew when you were going in circles with your attempt.

"No? Guys, you that you have a midterm soon." Helpful.

"This is more simple than you think." Explain it, then?

"Nobody? Really? Okay, you really should start paying attention, the―"

"Six." You almost forgot about the kid next to you until he spoke up. He put down his pen, giving Wellston an expectant look while the whole class was silent.

"…Six what?"

"Litres per hour."

The man quickly shuffled to his computer. Of course he didn't know the answer either.

"Six litres per hour," Wellston confirmed. No other kid had a chance to retort. Wellston seemed surprised for once. A part of you was surprised too at how simple the answer sounded when it came out of the "new" kid's mouth. You noticed that the boy didn't even have a calculator.

"Well, it looks like you all have something to learn from Morales here," he continued, something almost like contempt in his words. "Do you want to explain how you got that?"

The boy went about explaining it pretty simply, almost like he was reading off of a script. It was concise, different to what you'd learnt. Something about chain rule, which you truthfully had no idea how to actually use because someone didn't bother to go through it properly. Even if you were still somewhat unsure, it sounded easy enough.

"Interesting method..." Wellston murmured, trailing off for a moment. "Well, that settles it then. Do you guys understand how we got six?"

We? This guy... Aside from the fact that he was looking at you a little too much for comfort (probably because you were still clutching your stomach like you’d been shot) you had another reason to be annoyed by this teacher and his stupid hair. Everyone just returned his question with silent nods and mumbles, people taking opportunities to actually look at the calc-wiz.

You took a chance too, looking over at his seemingly unbothered face. You were almost right about the brown eyes. They were more coppery than anything, maybe even a little green. If he was staring before, you couldn't tell, his gaze trailing his desk with disinterest. Why did his eye colour even matter?

Forty minutes of class to go. You felt like you could eat your calculator at this point. The mystery kid didn't seem to need one anyway, and you weren’t getting much use out of it.

BRIIIIIIIIIING!

"The bell doesn't―" The screeching of chairs cut him off.

Like that would work this far into the semester. The Morales kid was already gone by the time you'd stood up. Letting out a drawn-out sigh, you debated between your tiredness and hunger. Would you try to fight to the death to get to the front of the lunch queue? All you wanted was food, maybe a nap afterwards, definitely no more calculus.

That couldn't happen, of course. For some reason, you were the only one left in class. You heard your name, wincing a little as you stopped in your journey out of the door.

"I just want to speak for a moment, spare me a few minutes?" You figured this was coming. It looked like he wanted to speak to you about something all class; his expressions weren’t exactly mysterious like that new kid. You wanted nothing more than to strangle him with his ugly patterned tie as you walked over to him.

Mr. Wellston leaned on his desk by his elbows, lowering his voice as if he was about to tell you something serious.

"You're not doing very well in this class." Okay… not that serious. "It’s the longer questions, I think. FRQs.”

Your grogginess made it impossible to focus on Wellston’s rant, but what you did pick up on was his weird accent. You guessed he wasn’t from Brooklyn, but the way he was talking right now let you pick up on the strange intonation in his voice you otherwise wouldn’t care to notice. Almost European-sounding. First that kid's eye colour and now your teacher's accent... what was it with you and random details today?

"So..." he continued, looking up at you with his head still low. "I'm going to start an extra class after school. I want you to come to it." Okay, this is worse. You couldn't have lunch, and now you couldn't even have after school.

"When is it?" It better not be some unreasonable time.

"Well, I've only got Friday afternoon free. You know how it is, meetings..." If he was trying to be apologetic, or convincing, he was failing at both. "I'll call you in later to discuss it further."

You just nodded, the grip on your backpack tightening. "Okay."

"It's important that you come!”

His voice was drowned out by the flood of students in the hall as you shut the door, turning on your heel to head to the cafeteria. The line was probably impossibly long by now. You couldn't care less about that extra Friday class. Forget college. You'd be a bum, or work at a WcDonalds. You'd probably make more money than Mr. Wellston there anyway. Forget Visions.

Forget that Morales kid who was standing outside the door all that time while you were too frustrated to notice.

You slumped down onto an empty table as you tried to rid your mind of him.

The probability that he'd show up to class with his cool braids and coppery-green eyes again was too low for you to care anyway.

"Soy Miles. Miles Morales."

Calc-wiz, or Miles as you just found out, was also in your Spanish class, and was also sitting directly behind you. It seemed like he was coming into more classes than he had been all semester — good for him?

"Morales… ¿Eres hispano, Miles?" (Are you Hispanic, Miles?) Miles simply nodded while Mrs Hernández flicked through the worksheets, licking her finger to set them down on individual desks. Spanish was one of the classes you actually liked. Apart from your classmates, Mrs Hernández was funny, and a good teacher, even if she was a little strict.

She paused for a moment to look at Miles again, eyebrow raised. "¿Guatemala?"

"Puerto Rico." The woman's raised eyebrow fell along with the rest of her expression, eyes narrowing in disappointment. She was always talking about where she was from, Guatemala. You found it kind of endearing, though you weren't sure if she'd get any teaching done if there was another kid from there.

"All these years y nadie de Guatemala..." (and nobody from Guatemala...) She simply frowned, cracking her knuckles while making her way back to the front. Most of the people taking AP Spanish were Hispanic, just trying to get extra credits, but it seemed like Mrs. Hernández was out of luck when it came to finding her natural favourite. "Vale clase, quiero que miren este articulo sobre―" (Okay class, I want you to look at this article about―)

All that class you felt like Miles was staring at the back of your head, of course. If he wasn't uncomfortably silent, he was conversing with Mrs Hernández, and she came over more than once to talk to him behind you. As much as you wanted to overhear, they were talking too quietly and quickly — and in Spanish. What they were talking about wasn't your business — most likely about his absence. You had also no idea what this article was talking about. It was something about art, but most of the words you were reading were unfamiliar as your highlighter hovered uselessly over the paper.

It had almost been a week since Miles first came in. You constantly saw him get pulled out of class or talking to teachers — except in AP Calc; it seemed like he was doing just fine there. He could speak Spanish fine too, but was behind on everything else. Other than teachers, he never really talked to anyone. You occasionally saw him with his earbuds on in the hallways, but more often his jacket was what got him chased down by teachers; the kid didn’t really seem to care. Good for him. He was probably more ahead of you anyway given the way your studies were going.

“Oye, look a little alive!” You noticed Mrs Hernandéz standing over you, and that your highlighter bleeding through the paper from pressing too long. A half-hearted “lo siento” (sorry) is all you could offer. “Extraño (strange) — What's different today, chicos? Is it because you’ve got a new friend here?” She crossed her arms, eyeing everyone with her brows knitted together.

The atmosphere around Miles was strange. Not only was he known for being missing since freshman year, but also for his late father. It wasn’t a secret, as much as he didn’t talk about it. Everyone could tell from the way teachers whispered to him and how he disappeared to the counsellor’s office that he wasn’t treated like any other student here. In fact, he didn’t even live in the dorms according to what you’d heard. He was quiet, but the rumours were undeniably loud. You tried not to involve yourself — you hadn’t even spoken to him yourself, anyway.

“He’s not the only Puerto Rican. You gonna forget about us, Señora?” The voice made you hold back a sigh. When Rafael started speaking there was no stopping him. You figured it was time; no matter how far he was moved from his friends, he always found a way to talk to them from the other side of the classroom. He was also right next to you. You had a few reasons to want to drop this class, and each of them were all going “yeah” in agreement to what Rafael had to say.

“I think you’ve forgotten that you have an article in front of you, Rafa.” You couldn’t help but crack a smile at your teacher’s words, and nickname. To your dismay, Rafael noticed you immediately.

“You makin’ fun of me, bro?” He turned his head to stare at you.

“Rafael,” Hernandéz warned.

“Nah, Señora, you don’t get it, I should be sitting over there.”

She wasn’t amused by the way he was gesturing to his friends. “I’ll kick you out.”

“Come on man…” He just threw up his hands and sunk into his far too tiny chair. You prayed he wouldn't start rocking on it and make that god-awful creaking sound. Mrs. Hernández simply turned to ignore him and continue with class.

“Why’s he special anyway?” Rafael mumbled to himself. “Famous cause of his dad?”

Tension – it was so thick you could cut it. The only thing that was cutting through it, apart from your Spanish teacher’s rant, was Miles’ gaze. You could feel it burning right through you. It seemed like Rafael, the moron, for some twisted reason, wanted Miles to hear that.

If you had anything to say at all, it was too late to give Rafael a piece of your mind. Considering how quickly he'd shut you down, it would be useless to stick up for some kid you barely knew. Nobody else heard Rafael anyway; it'd just pit everyone against you. Still, a part of you felt bad. Even though you didn’t really know Miles, he was in a lot of your classes. You’d gotten used to his presence over the past week: moving out of the way so he could get to his seat, occasionally picking up each other’s fallen pens, giving unshared glances to see how the other was doing on the work.

He seemed nice enough despite the lack of words you'd exchanged, but when you turned a little to fix your chair, the expression you caught was anything but. It was almost scary, if you could make out anything from his darkened features. There was a strange sense of focus in his eyes, like he was calculating something – deliberating. You didn't try to guess what, keeping silent and trying to listen to Mrs. Hernández talk about the article while ignoring the deadly gaze simmering behind you.

If you were stronger, scarier, more influential, maybe you’d punch one through Rafael right now. Just looking at him was irritating, and it's not like you hadn't thought of it before. Maybe you wouldn’t have to, though, because it seemed like Miles was thinking the exact same thing. As much as you wanted to learn Spanish and not have a fight happen right next to you, it’d be nice if he was able to teach Rafael to shut up instead of the material he didn't seem to care about.

Miles didn’t look particularly strong — he was kind of scary-looking right now, but that didn’t mean he could take on a 6ft tall football player, no matter how pissed off said football player made him. You couldn't tell what he was thinking, but Miles stayed put for the rest of class; it felt like a sniper was right behind you.

The all-too-familiar creak of the chair made you automatically grit your teeth.

“Oy, mi pana, you got gum?” Rafael murmured to you in his worst friendly voice. It was 10 minutes till the end of class, and he was asking now? You still had no idea what pana meant since he moved next to you, but the way he said it always made you feel icky regardless.

You quickly shook your head, getting a sigh out of him. You hoped he’d give up, but he just leaned over to whisper to you. “What do you think of that dude, huh?

“What?”

“Strange, yeah?”

“He’s okay.” Your defence was quiet, but it was the most you could do as you heard Miles scribbling right behind you.

“He’s drawing, dude.”

You looked at him almost incredulously. Rafael just rolled his eyes.

“Why do you care?” Your voice came out louder than you wanted.

“¡Silencio!” You gave Mrs. Fernandez, another one of your muffled “lo siento”s, shrinking into your seat as her eyes locked onto you. Snickering from Rafael’s friends only fuelled the embarrassment surging through your cheeks. Miles shuffled in his seat behind you, followed by the sound of paper being crumpled up. You wanted to crumple up the smug expression plastered on Rafael's face right now.

Class ended with another stack of homework in your backpack, and you were more than happy to leave. Free period — you could get a start on the homework. Or talk to Wellston about that extra class. The thought made you wince, but you didn’t exactly have a choice. You had to see him by the end of the day.

“Ay, Milo!” You turned to see Rafael and his little group approaching Miles’ desk. “What’s good?”

“Nothing.” He kept his voice low, pushing his chair under the desk. The boys just laughed as he got up, a grating mix of malice and mirth.

“Right, right. Puerto Rican, eh?” It sounded like Rafael was just talking for the sake of talking. You were also standing for the sake of standing too, of course.

Miles let out a mumble as a confirmation of sorts. Heading for the door, he was blocked by Rafael.

“Ay, where you goin’? Let’s talk, huh? Got a free period?” You could see Miles’ eyes narrow, a flash of impatience in his demeanour before he let out a breath. Rafael was trying to get a kick out of this. A kick out of some kid with a dead dad.

“Someone’s waiting for me.”

“Huh? What’d you say? You got friends?” The start of more laughs were already forming around Miles.

You didn’t know what came over you. Maybe it was the regret of not saying anything earlier, or the strange intrigue you’d felt since a week ago. Peeking your head through the door, you took a step back into the classroom. “Miles, c’mon.”

The gnawing feeling only intensified as you felt four sets of eyes on you at the same time. You’d rather it be hunger than the anxiety coursing through you at that moment.

“Comin',” he murmured, shoving past the three boys towards the door.

The two of you left the classroom, hearing a faint “what the hell man?” as the door fell shut. Miles lingered behind you as you approached the next turn in the hallway.

“What’s your name?” He’d already stepped in front of you.

No thanks or anything? Well, he didn't really owe you anything. It was "the right thing to do", like the many anti-bullying posters around the school encouraged you to do. God damn Visions.

“You uh… know my name.”

“Wanna hear it from you.” His voice had a little twinge of an accent that you hadn’t noticed before. You tried not to think too hard on it. Too many details for too little of an interaction.

“You’ve gotta introduce yourself first — pretty sure that’s how it works,” you tried to joke, something like embarrassment replacing the lingering anxiety in your stomach.

“I did — in class.” Miles’ face was unreadable, but there was something like amusement in his voice.

“Not to me specifically, though.”

The two of you stood in the hallway as people ushered past you. A freshman almost hit you running past, making the two of you retreat to stand beside some lockers. Damn freshmen. You were a freshman only last year, but shoving past them in the cafeteria wasn’t exactly fun. Miles seemed unbothered, as he usually did.

“You seriously don’t know my name?” you continued, almost frowning a little.

“Let’s say I don’t.” He leaned back against the cold blue metal of the lockers, tilting his head at you. The tiny mannerism only made your embarrassment grow. “What’s your name, pana?”

“…I still don’t know what that means.” The frustrated sigh you let out made the corner of his mouth curl up.

“And I still don’t know your name, pana.” No wonder you didn’t bother to talk to anyone. It seemed like you never had the upper hand, first with Rafael and now with Miles. Truthfully, though, you knew which you’d rather talk to.

“Sounds like a food,” you continued, shrugging.

“Could be,” he pretended to muse. And to think you thought he was nice. You hadn’t decided to be annoyed yet, though.

“You know my name, Miles.” You must’ve looked funny the way you crossed your arms and furrowed your eyebrows, because that got an entertained breath out of him.

“Who’s Miles? Haven’t introduced myself yet.” His smirk wrote guilty all over his face.

“Milo, then?” It was a bit harsh, but his cockiness made you say it without much thought. The apology was written on your face already, and you unfolded your arms, deciding you couldn’t have Mrs. Hernandéz’s sass today.

“You wanna be called pana forever?” He slipped an earbud into one of his ears, the blue light flickering into life. At least you didn’t tick him off.

“Not like I care,” you murmured, trying to take a step away.

“Seems like you do.”

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” you asked, trying to keep your tone in check as you glanced down the hallway.

“Do you?” You felt like you were talking into a mirror, one that reflected back a person that got all the more mysterious and annoying when you did.

“Yeah, actually.” Mr. Wellston’s class. The thought made your eyes narrow, probably in exhaustion, most likely in irritation. “Need to speak to a teacher.”

His brow raised in mild interest. “You in trouble?”

“I wish. It’s about some extra class I have to take.”

“Calc?” You turned to look at him again, and his expression was more knowing than curious now.

“How’d you guess…?” It sounded more like a statement, your tone more disappointed than surprised. Were you really that bad at Calculus? Maybe you did need this class, especially if calc-wiz thought so.

“…You have lunch today?” he thought to ask instead. For a moment, you were confused, until you remembered calc last week.

“Shut up.” Your cheeks burned, hand balling up the fabric of your uniform. God. Damn it. All.

“Aight, sorry.”

More silence. You should’ve blamed the growling on him.

“Why the class though? You failing?”

“I’m not failing… Just need some help, I guess” Your shrug wasn’t very reassuring.

“Anyone else goin’?” The longer he kept inquiring, the more you figured Mr. Wellston’s attitude was building up.

“No clue. Bet everyone else is gonna join, though. He’ll probably tell everyone anyway.” The people in your class were quiet, but desperate to out-do each other. Maybe the problem wasn’t you, but the fact that everyone else was trying so hard.

“He didn’t ask me.” The corner of his mouth dimpled into his cheek in thought.

“You’re good at calc anyway.”

“Haven’t been here a while, so I gotta catch up, right? Lemme come with.”

You tried to think of what to say as your hand found the back of your neck, but he was already walking past you. Miles looked back at you to see if you were following.

If he had somewhere to be, it didn’t seem to matter. You noted the slight rhythm to his step, wondering what he was listening to, and if his eyes were green or brown. Ripping away your gaze from him before you could chase that thought, you tried to dodge all the freshmen running around as the bell went for next period.

You had more questions than answers so far — both in your backpack to do this period and in your mind. Aside from Miles, you wondered what that extra class would be like, and what Wellston would say. A part of you hoped that Miles would be in that class with you, despite your less than favourable introduction. Maybe you’d figure out why the answer was six litres an hour. Maybe you could be friends.

What was the probability of that? Some questions couldn’t be solved with a calculator. But Miles didn’t need one, after all.

thank you for reading. im so tired of looking at this but its okay part 1 !!! hooray !!! next chapter is miles pov .... need more Substances in my Bloodstream before i post that though LMAO

reblogs appreciated!!!! go back to the series masterlist here or to my atsv masterlist here :)

[crucifiedfaerie]

Nicotine Stains Pt. 1 ༉₊˚✧

Modern!Kylo x Fem!Reader AU

➴ Summary: Your older brother's best friend seems to have everyone fooled. Everyone but you, that is.

➴ Part Two

➴ Word Count: 5k

➴ Warnings: 18+ MDNI, fem!reader, dom!kylo, slowburn, modern!delinquent!kylo au, virgin!reader, drug use, smoking, swearing, kylo breaking traffic laws for some pussy, kylo is a pretentious prick, why is kylo lowkey midwestern emo in this, mutual pining, finn my beloved is mentioned, some angst, fluff, SMUT (protected PiV sex, again reader is a virgin, fingering, a little scratching, slow n gentle sex, softdom!kylo, consent king !!, praise kink, pet names), typos probably

➴ Taglist: ( @enviedear @capitanostella @teapartydreams )

A/N: this may or may not be the most pretentious thing ive ever written but idc. also i want to give a special thank you and shout out to my beautiful mutual liv @enviedear for this idea! she totally helped me flesh out the modern!delinquent!kylo character and this fic would not exist without her. <;3 (also reader is NOT me bc if kylo ren played slipknot for me in his 1969 charger i'd fold immediately)

You sat at your desk, studying for your upcoming midterms and nervously chewing on the inside of your mouth. Mathematics had never been your strong suit and despite only being a month and a half into the semester, your calculus class was stressing you out to no end. The rhythmic ticking of your clock was not helping in the slightest, so you reached for your headphones.

This class is taking years off of my life for sure.

As you looked for a good playlist, you heard your bedroom window open behind you. You yelped, turning in your chair to face your window. Your panic died when you realized it was only Kylo, your older brother's friend.

Once he was finally inside, he shut your window before standing up straight. Kylo was probably the tallest person you knew, almost touching the low ceiling of your bedroom. You couldn't deny how your stomach did flips when you were stood next to him, not to mention he was absolutely fucking beautiful. Kylo's features looked like they were carved from marble and his long, dark hair always fell perfectly around his face. If he weren't so goddamn annoying, you'd like him a lot more.

You groaned. "When are you gonna stop coming in through my window you asshole?"

"It isn't my fault your window is the most accessible and the lock is broken." He smirked.

Your eyes narrowed as you glared at him. "The least you could do is knock, what if I like... had a guy over or something?"

Kylo laughed, walking over to you. He turned you in your desk chair to face your computer and pushed it in, before leaning down over your shoulder to look at your screen. "I think we both know that doesn't happen, kid." He jabbed before making his way to your door.

Your face felt hot, his audacity never failed to make you seethe. And his choice of nickname for you only made you madder. You turned to glare at him. "You fucker- I- you're only like 3 years older than me!??"

You heard him laugh as he walked out of your room and down the hallway.

What made it worse was that it seemed he had everyone in your family fooled. Kylo acted like an absolute angel in front of your mother, and it pissed you off to no end. When he would come over for dinner, he always insisted on helping her with the dishes. He would make conversation with her, crack jokes, go the whole nine yards as if he weren't a college dropout and also doing drugs with her son on the side.

Your mom, being the stereotypical Christian, midwestern mother that she is, would always say things along the lines of "Oh Kylo, you're such a sweet boy. It amazes me that someone like you listens to such angry music." He would just blush and laugh it off.

Kylo drove a black 1969 Dodge Charger R/T that he would pull up to your house in, blasting the loudest possible music. Your dad loved him, and they would always talk cars when they got the chance. The first time you came home and saw your dad helping Kylo change his oil, you thought you had died and gone to hell. You just stared as Kylo smirked at you. That stupid, evil smirk you were so used to seeing.

They can't possibly be serious?? How do they not see how much of a jerk he is?

You however, he was much different with. Any chance Kylo got to annoy you, he would do it. He frequently stood outside your door for god knows how long, just waiting for you to come out so he could scare you. You would jump and yell expletives at him before weakly punching him in the shoulder. He and your brother would just laugh, thinking it was funniest thing in the world.

You sighed, staring at your computer screen. You were over studying for the night. You shut your door, before turning off the light and getting into bed. You tried to sleep, but couldn't. The stress of college was slowly suffocating you but despite that, you couldn't seem to get Kylo out of your head.

Sure, you have had a slight crush on him since you were in middle school, I mean who wouldn't? Look at him. But it didn't mean anything, the feeling was almost certainly not mutual and he was still the biggest asshole you'd ever met.

God I fucking hate him... I mean I don't, but I do.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a light tapping at your door. Your brow furrowed. "Yeah?"

Kylo opened your door slowly, making sure it didn't creak as he closed it behind him. "What are you still doing awake, its 3am. Don't you have classes tomorrow?" He whispered, fumbling with your window.

You rolled your eyes, still staring at the ceiling. "Yeah. What do you care?"

He smirked slightly, swinging one leg out the window before looking at you. "Finn asked me to pick you up tomorrow. What time are you off?"

Fucking fantastic.

"Oh, great." You said sarcastically. "2:30pm. The math and science building."

He ducked through the open window, and stuck his head back inside your room to look at you. "See you at 2:30 then." He smirked, before exiting again and shutting your window, leaving you in the dark.

I am not looking forward to tomorrow.

The following afternoon, you sat in your calculus class zoning out and unable to keep your mind off Kylo. You would never admit it, not even to yourself, but you were definitely daydreaming. You were thinking about how soft his hair always looks and how it might feel to run your fingers through it.

You didn't realize your professor had called on you until he said your name for a second time, repeating his question. You sat up straight before looking down, your eyes scanning your paper. "Oh um- the answer is... x equals three fourths." Your face felt warm.

"That's correct. Lets try to be more focused, though." Your professor sighed, before continuing his lecture. You nodded quickly, looking down at your paper.

As you walked to the parking lot, your palms felt sweaty. You'd been in Kylo's car only a couple times before and it was a long time ago. The recent nagging thoughts you had been having about him didn't quell your nervousness either. You spotted his car quickly, and made your way to the passenger side.

When you opened the door, his music blared so loud, you thought his speakers might blow out. You sat your bag on the floor of his car before getting in and shutting the door.

Kylo was smirking when you turned to glare at him. You reached over and turned the dial down halfway and he laughed.

"Too loud for you princess?" He said sarcastically, leaning over to look behind him as he backed out of the parking lot.

You rolled your eyes and buckled your seatbelt, smoothing out your skirt with your hands. "Too loud for most people. Can I play something?"

Kylo scoffed, that stupid smirk still on his face. "Fuck no, you can't play your music in my car."

"Whatever." You crossed your arms, staring straight ahead.

After a few minutes of silence, Kylo finally spoke. "Have you heard of Slipknot?" He asked, nodding his head towards the radio and tapping his long fingers on the steering wheel to the music.

You scoffed, turning your head to face him. "Yes I've heard of Slipknot, you loser... It's just not really my thing. Kind of scary sounding... its just screaming mostly."

He laughed loudly at your last comment. "Scary? Aw, now that's cute. I bet you listen to Lana Del Rey or some shit like that." Kylo said sarcastically, putting a cigarette between his lips and lighting it. He took a drag from it before offering it to you.

You rolled your eyes at him before taking it. Your fingers brushed against his, sending a shiver down your spine. You took a drag off of it before speaking. "Lana Del Rey makes really good music." Despite facing the window, you felt his eyes on you the whole time.

"Oh so I was right?" He grinned, staring at the road now. "I just said the first girly thing that came to mind... And when did you start smoking? I'm gonna tell your mom." He laughed.

You attempted to hide the smile that played at the corners of your mouth. "I'll be sure to tell her you supplied me with them... and yeah I like Lana. She sings about real shit." You took another drag from the cigarette, blowing the smoke out of the window.

Kylo scoffed at you again, motioning to the radio. "And you don't think bands like this do?... This song is called Metabolic, its about the lead singer's absent father and how he fears he will become just like him. They sing about real shit too, it isn't just screaming."

You shrugged, taking another hit before handing the cigarette back to him as he pulled into your driveway. "I never said they didn't, I'm just not super into this type of music."

He glared at you as you grabbed your bag, cigarette dangling from his mouth. You got out of his car, and shut the door behind you. "Thanks for the ride, Kylo" You said through gritted teeth.

I can't believe I'm telling this man thank you.

"No problem." He looked like he wanted to say something else but he stopped himself.

You nodded, before heading to your door. You noticed that he had watched you and waited for you to get inside your house before pulling away.

"How nice of Kylo for driving you home. What a sweet boy." Your mom smiled as you came through the door. "I wish he wouldn't smoke though, you smell like cigarettes."

"Yeah, he's cool." You sigh as you walk up the stairs, making your way to your room before shutting your bedroom door behind you.

You sit at your desk and open your laptop to get started on some homework. Before you start, you grab your headphones and open your phone, deciding to give Kylo's music taste another try. As you do your calculus homework, you find yourself tapping your foot to the music.

The following day, you waited outside for Finn to pick you up from class. You had waited 30 minutes before deciding to call him and he didn't pick up a single one of your several calls.

That fucker. He just left me here.

You huffed before opening your phone again in defeat, pressing on Kylo's contact.

"Yeah?" He sounded like had been sleeping. Your face felt hot from just the sound of his voice.

"I um- Finn left me here and I uh... don't have anyone to pick me up... Can you please come get me?" It felt so foreign asking Kylo for literally anything.

"Yeah I'll be there in fifteen minutes." He said. You noticed that he sounded much more alert, and you heard him shuffling in the background.

"Okay thanks... Uh- bye." You hung up, sitting down on the curb.

It wasn't even seven minutes before Kylo turned into the parking lot and pulled up next to you.

You opened the door, throwing your bag on the floor and getting in. "Jesus Christ, man?? How many traffic laws did you break getting here?" You smirked as you buckled your seatbelt.

Kylo laughed. "If you drove, and owned a car like this, you'd speed too." You couldn't help but notice the light pink that spread across his cheeks at your comment.

He handed you your own cigarette this time, and you placed it in your mouth. You went to reach for the lighter but he beat you to it.

"Allow me." Kylo said before raising the flame up to the end of your cigarette. You inhale, watching it ignite. You caught his gaze for a moment and felt the butterflies return, quickly averting your eyes and taking the cigarette between your fingers to turn and exhale out of his window. Kylo cleared his throat and looked ahead before lighting his own and pulling away.

You both listened to his music in silence for a few minutes. As you fidgeted with the hem of your skirt, you recognized the song playing and began to mouth the lyrics.

I am my father's son 'cause he's a phantom, a mystery, and that leaves me nothing.

How many times have you wanted to die?

It's too late for me, all you have to do is get rid of me.

You can't see California without Marlon Brando's eyes.

Kylo's eyes darted over to you a few times, and he laughed. "There is no way- are you fucking singing along to Slipknot right now?! I thought this shit scared you, kid?" The look on his face was filled with shock and amusement.

"It's a catchy song. I don't know... Stop calling me that asshole!" You could feel the deep blush creeping across your face.

"No, No." He wasn't letting this go. "I didn't play this CD in the car yesterday, did you seriously go home and listen to it?" Between that and how embarrassed you looked from him pointing it out, Kylo could not contain the smile of pure amusement on his face.

"I don't know- Maybe." You looked out of the window, not facing him. You wanted nothing more than to die in that moment.

He was loving this too much. "Fucking obsessed with me, aren't ya? Listening to my songs and shit." Kylo teased.

You turned to glare at him. "I- No! Shut the fuck up." You gripped the fabric of your skirt and took a final drag of your cigarette before tossing it out of the window.

He laughed, shaking his head as he pulled into the driveway. "I'm only fucking with you."

"That's all you ever seem to do. Thanks for the ride I guess." You muttered as you got out of his car, slamming the door before walking to your house. As you walked away, you caught a glimpse of the look of disappointment and guilt on Kylo's face.

Fucking asshole. So unbelievable.

Kylo stayed in your driveway for a minute, debating on whether he should knock on your door to say something to you, but he ultimately decided against it and drove away.

That night, you laid in bed staring at your ceiling once again, head filled with thoughts of that stupid fucking beautiful asshole.

I don't understand him. He does nice shit for me sometimes, but then all he does is make fun of me?

And even after all of that, all you could think about was that stupid cigarette dangling from his lips and how hot he looked. Your mind wandered to how Kylo would lean closer to you, his hand resting on the back of your headrest while reversing. How he nodded his head and tapped his fingers on the steering wheel to the music. How close his face was to yours when he insisted on lighting your cigarette for you.

God! I'm such an idiot. I cant stand him or myself for that matter.

You heard a few taps on your window and your brow furrowed. You rolled out of bed, walking to your window before opening it. You were met with Kylo's dark eyes staring back at you.

Your eyes narrowed at him. "What a gentleman, thank you for knocking this time..." You said sardonically. "But Finn is asleep I think."

"Had to make sure you didn't have a guy over." He teased. "But I'm not here for him... you wanna smoke?" He grinned at you, holding up a neatly rolled joint.

You laughed nervously. "I've never smoked weed before Kylo, I don't know..."

"Of course you haven't... It'll be fine, I'm not asking you to smoke the whole goddamn thing." He smirked, offering his hand for you to take.

You sighed before taking Kylo's hand and ducking out of your window. The cold, October air sent goosebumps across your exposed arms and legs. He led you to a flat part of your roof and the both of you sat down together.

You watched as he placed the joint in his mouth and lit it, taking a couple hits before handing it to you.

You inhaled, noticing how it burned a little more than a cigarette does. You coughed slightly, which caused Kylo to chuckle, and you glared at him as you handed the joint back to him.

"I'm sorry if I made you mad earlier." He smirked, taking another hit.

You scoffed. "You just fuck with me too much. You always have."

Kylo sighed. "I only do it because your reactions are so fun... I didn't think about how it might make you feel." He paused. "And besides, I think its cute that you listened to my music all on your own, for the fun of it."

You blushed, hoping that the darkness would conceal the pink creeping across your face. "It's fine. I'm so used to your games by now." You laughed, shivering slightly.

Kylo placed the joint between his lips before slipping his dark jacket off and draping it around your shoulders. It felt so warm and was about three sizes too big for you. You laughed nervously, looking down. "Thank you."

He nodded, gazing down at you as he handed you the joint.

As the two of you sat in silence for a minute, the weed had already begun to take its toll on you. Everything seemed funny to you and as you looked up at the stars, you laughed softly at nothing.

Kylo smiled at you. "What's so funny, kid? Already high from two baby hits?" He teased. "This isn't even my strongest shit."

"You're such an idiot." You laughed at him, shaking your head.

The next hour was spent laughing about anything and everything. The two of you made fun of your brother, talked about college and how both of you agree calculus fucking sucks, and the two of you shared some other artists you liked with each other.

"I can't believe I clocked you so easily with Lana fucking Del Rey. I honest to god said that as a joke." Kylo laughed.

"Hey, she makes good music. Please let me make you listen to her the next time we're in the car, please." You playfully begged.

He sighed, feigning defeat. "Fine but only like two songs max... so you better make them good." Kylo smirked as he flicked the roach off the roof.

You weren't sure if it was the weed in your system, but something was giving you a slight newfound confidence to speak more freely. You sighed. "You're always spot on about me though... I am kind of lame. I always had this idea in my head that you and Finn were the ones who were losers... but in reality I am."

Kylo looked at you, puzzled. "I never thought you were a loser... I poke fun at you, sure, but I admire your intelligence... and how introverted you always are." He laughed, playfully pushing your shoulder.

You laughed nervously. "No, I mean... I don't go out and do anything fun the way you do. I don't loosen up, I don't hang out with people, I definitely never have guys over..." You laughed again, trailing off. "I mean my god I've never even kissed anyone."

He stared at you, his eyes scanning your face as if he were debating something. "You've got to be fucking with me right now. A pretty thing like you has surely got to have boys lined up and down the street."

You laughed at his comment, blushing. "If they are, I surely don't pay attention. No one talks to me at school." You stared at your lap, fiddling with the sleeves of his jacket.

You felt his cold fingertips touch your jaw, lifting your chin to look up at him. Before you could say anything, Kylo leaned in quickly and kissed you. You felt like a live wire, as if lightning bolts were shooting through your entire body. His kiss was urgent, yet gentle, and he held your face in his hands so tenderly.

When he pulled away, his eyes met yours and you both smiled nervously at each other. You noticed him shiver slightly. "Do you wanna... maybe go inside? It's warmer in there." You said shyly.

Kylo smirked at you. "Are you inviting a guy into your room right now?" He teased before standing up and taking your hand.

You giggled, following him. "Shut up."

He chuckled softly and when you got to the window, he went first. He ducked inside, pulling you with him which caused you both to practically fall through your window. You landed on top of him, your hushed giggles only silenced once he kissed you again.

"Shhh are you trying to wake your parents?" Kylo smirked up at you for a moment, taking in the sight of you on top of him on your bedroom floor, the moonlight from the window behind you illuminating you in a halo-like glow. He grabbed your waist and gently rolled you off of him, before you both stood up.

His large, strong hands pulled you by the waist closer to him, and he had to lean down to kiss you. His kiss was full of need this time, you felt his tongue glide along your bottom lip, asking for entry and you obliged, parting your lips. You moaned against his mouth and you felt the smirk that played at his lips.

Kylo took a few steps forward, pushing you gently backwards until the backs of your knees hit your soft bed. He pulled away for a moment to take his jacket off of you and throw it to the floor, before pushing you flat onto your bed.

"I-I've never... um." You stumbled over your words, feeling your face get hot as your eyes darted up to your ceiling.

Kylo leaned over you, his palms flat on the mattress on either side of your head. "I just stole your first kiss a couple minutes ago, you don't think I know that?" He smirked down at you before tilting his head slightly, leaning closer to trail kisses down your neck. "Do you not want to? I can stop whenever you want, all you need to do is say so." He whispered between kisses, trailing his hand down your body and stopping just above your clothed cunt.

The sensation made the heat in your core grow. "N-no. Don't stop Kylo." You whined.

He smiled, before standing straight up again and looking down at you. He looped his fingers under the waistband of your shorts and underwear, pulling them off slowly. "Look at you sweet thing, I've barely touched you and you're already a fucking mess." He teased, causing you to whimper.

Kylo chuckled softly, separating your knees and ghosting his hand down your thigh, stopping at your heat. He ran two long fingers through your slit, collecting your wetness on them before rubbing light circles over your clit. You gasped at the contact, bucking your hips instinctively against his hand. "Needy little thing, aren't you?" He smirked, using his other hand to hold your waist down before pushing his fingers inside slowly.

You whined at the feeling of his long fingers stretching you out, your much smaller hands were nothing compared to his. After giving you a moment to adjust, Kylo began to slowly pump his fingers in and out of your cunt, curling them upwards to draw sweet, soft moans from you.

"K-Kylo..." You breathed.

He smirked, amused by how quickly you were coming undone at his hand. "What is it, pretty girl?"

You whined at the sweet name he gave you, stuttering over your words once again. "You're g-gonna make me c-cum."

Kylo laughed softly, he had already gathered that from the noises you were making. "Oh, yeah?" He smirked at you, not faltering once with the steady pace he had created with his fingers.

"P-please. Please I want you to..." You trailed off, lost in the pleasure he was giving you.

"Please what? I'm not gonna do anything else unless you ask for it. Go ahead... Say it, say it." He was having way too much fun with you.

"Please Kylo..." You begged him. "Please I- I want you t-to fuck me."

He grinned at you and stood up, removing his fingers from your cunt, before licking them clean. You tasted divine to him, and he made a mental note that he needed to taste the source at some point. Maybe another night.

You whined at the sudden feeling of emptiness and watched as he pulled a condom from his wallet, putting it between his lips before working to undo his belt. He made quick work of his clothes, saving his boxers for last and sliding them off, his cock springing upwards.

You didn't realize your mouth was open until Kylo looked over at you and saw you staring at him. He laughed, tearing the condom wrapper open with his teeth. "I'll go slow, don't worry." You watched as he slid the condom down to the base of his cock, before making his way over to you on the bed.

He made you sit up a bit so he could pull your shirt over your head, before kissing you, trailing down your neck and chest, leaving a few light red marks along the way. You whimpered at the sensation, not caring that you'd have to conceal them in the morning.

Kylo pulled away, admiring his work and settling himself between your legs, lining his cock up with your entrance. "Ready?" He moved a piece of hair from your eyes, smirking down at you.

You wrapped your arms around him, nodding your head. He groaned as he slowly pushed his cock inside you, taking extra care not to hurt you and watching as your face contorted from the feeling of his cock splitting you open. Your nails dug into his back as you whined.

After allowing you a moment to adjust to his size, Kylo began to move slowly, creating a gentle yet deep pace and hitting that bundle of nerves inside you with each thrust. It felt like heaven and you attempted to stifle your moans, failing miserably. "Shhh pretty girl, don't wake up the entire house now." He put his hand over your mouth lightly, smiling down at you.

You moaned against Kylo's hand as he began to pick up his pace slightly. He removed his hand to kiss you, his tongue winning dominance over the inside of your mouth.

Kylo pulled away to admire you, his thrusts were still gentle, but he was unrelenting on that sensitive spot, hitting it with each snap of his hips.

"Ky-kylo... m'gonna c-cum... feels so good." You whined, unable to form a coherent sentence.

"Yeah?" He moaned slightly, out of breath and nearing his own climax. "Go ahead, cum on my cock."

Your vision went blurry as you came undone beneath him, the tight coil in your abdomen bursting into fireworks of endless pleasure.

"Just like that, pretty girl. You're doing so good, Fuck." Kylo whispered in your ear, easing you through your orgasm as his hand rested over your mouth to muffle your moans.

After a few more thrusts he came to a halt with a groan, burying himself deep inside of you as he came. "Fuck- shit! You feel so fucking good." He hissed.

As Kylo came down from his high, he breathed heavily, smiling down at you before kissing you again. He pulled away, pulling out of you. You whined, which caused him to chuckle slightly. You watched as he took the condom off, throwing it in the trash before slipping his boxers back on, and retrieving his band t-shirt and your underwear from the floor.

He sat back on the bed and gently dressed you, his shirt hanging off of your much smaller frame. "You look so pretty in my clothes." He smirked at you, pulling your covers over the two of you before taking you into his arms.

You rested your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat flutter. "Thank you." You whispered softly.

Kylo chuckled. "For what, pretty girl?" He played with your hair.

"For making my first time memorable. It was really, really good..." You trailed off sleepily.

You heard his heartbeat falter at your comment and you smiled. He ran his fingers through your hair. "You don't have to thank me for that, I've wanted to do this for a while now." Kylo waited for an answer but it never came. He sighed, smiling as he realized you had fallen asleep on him. This was a feeling he could get used to.

The following morning, you two were awoken by the sound of your mother knocking on your bedroom door. Kylo was immediately alert, scrambling out of bed and grabbing his remaining clothes before ducking under your bed as you silently laughed at him.

"Yeah?" You called out to your mother.

She entered, looking around your room. "I'm going to the grocery store, do you want anything... where did you get that shirt." She stared at the Slipknot t-shirt you were wearing that was three sizes too big for you.

You looked down at yourself, before looking back at her. "I'm doing laundry right now and Kylo left it in Finn's room a long time ago." You lied through your teeth. "And no, I don't want anything."

"Hm, okay... And close that window, the heat is on and its freezing in here!" She motioned to your open window before leaving, shutting the door behind her.

You fell back onto your pillow, shutting your eyes and smiling at the sound of Kylo's laughter beneath you.

[bagalois]

this is kind of a late update, but about a week ago, i met with my advisor. i told her that i'm worried about my classes and how i'm doing in them. she also happens to be my combinatorics professor.

"it's so strange you are struggling so much this semester. i mean, you got all As last semester."

i didn't want to out my other professors as being awful teachers, so i just told her, "well, i got sick in february and so i fell behind. i got into a cycle where i'm starting every homework just two days before the deadline, constantly having to teach myself the material, and i never caught back up."

which is a true statement, by the way. just not the entire truth.

she told me i could skip that week's combinatorics homework so i could get caught up in my other classes. we wouldn't be coming back to posets ever again in the semester, so i could safely skip this material without getting even further behind in her class. i might miss a question on the final exam, but that was fine with me - i got an 11/100 on our midterm, so i have more important things to be concerned about.

skipping one homework gave me some respite, but i'm not even caught up on the material. i'm just not drowning in it....

i should probably get off tumblr. i'm still tired. i am genuinely burnt out and have been for over a month, but the mathematics isn't going to do itself. i'm going to aim for two hours of productivity today. ideally i manage to complete something for once in my life, but right now, i will not put any expectations on myself. right now, i just need to think.

[thatfeelinwhenyou]

KINDRED — 31

It’s your final year of highschool, and your only goal is to graduate top of your cohort, as usual. Except as student council president, your advisor can’t seem to leave you alone. What happens when you take Decelis Academy’s top student, their star athlete and put them in front of a camera?

smau + written (2.0k words)

❥･• episode 31 — the name above me

tw! y/n’s mom

The two-week break flies by rather quickly, and you find yourself back in your school uniform on a Monday morning, realising that nothing has really changed. You had already half-convinced yourself that post-midterm would be different for you, you had hoped for clarity regarding your plans after high school. Alas, uncertainty clings to you like an unwelcome companion.

Walking onto campus, you encounter a throng of students gathered in front of the ranking boards. Right, your results are released today.

Oddly, though, the weight of your grades hasn't been preoccupying your thoughts these past two weeks like it would in the past, marking the first time in your life that you haven't been consumed by overthinking your grades or endlessly reviewing test questions, as if every time you did it you didn’t get the same exact answer.

No, you actually enjoyed your break. You allowed yourself to breathe, to embrace the carefree spirit of a high school teenager.

You went café hopping with Bora and Jungwon again, only this time you ensured a mango juice mishap did not befall you. The girls, including yourself, enjoyed a truly relaxing girls' day where everyone dressed up just for the joy of it. Then there was that unforgettable excursion to the amusement park; you rode the Ferris wheel for the first time as it had been a long-standing prohibition from your mother. Though fairly insignificant, you record as it as a ‘win’ in your books.

Before you knew it, your final term at Decelis Academy had already begun. The documentary is in its concluding stages, with tasks remaining on the itinerary, including capturing your and Jungwon's reactions to your grades, the student council's senior farewell party, Jungwon's upcoming competition, and then the final confessional.

Arriving on campus, you initially worry about being way too early but lucky for you, the camera crew had arrived hours in advance and established their vantage point on the left side of the ranking boards—the higher-scoring side. Despite their meticulous preparation, you inadvertently squeeze yourself into a group of students gathered in the middle, unintentionally defying their plans for the perfect front-row view of your reaction from every angle.

Your eyes scan the list.

74 ***

75 ***

76 ***

77 Yang Jungwon

Found it.

You let your fingers glide over the paper, seeking out his Mathematics scores. 105 out of 150. Relief floods through you, a broad smile gracing your face at his passing grade. Not just barely but with a decent score, just enough to pull him up to a C, securing his spot in the competition just 15 days from now. You’re smiling so wide, the joy evident without even knowing how you did for your own papers.

And as if you were sharing the same brain cell, you find Jungwon standing at the front of the board, his expression tense as he gazes at a name at the top. Concern brushes your thoughts, but you manage to conceal it from the cameras as you cheerfully call out, "Wonnie! You passed your Math paper, you’re going to compete in the Asian Championships!"

"I-I’m so sorry, Y/N," he stammers, a heavy silence lingering between you. Reluctantly, you follow his gaze, and there it is.

1 Lee Haerin

2 Park Y/N.

Your name, usually perched at the top, now finding itself below another.

You know Lee Haerin, she’s a familiar face from the book club, and you know this having seen her in the library more times than you could count. And you were there almost every day. You also recognise her name as someone who was consistently ranking below you, but how the tables have turned.

You don’t loathe her; surely, it isn’t her fault that your English Literature scores fell short, causing you to drop in overall rankings. Besides, it's only mid-terms, and you still have your preliminary exams to pull your grades up before the CSAT… Right?

You sense someone settling down beside you on the ledge you've chosen to occupy on the roof. You had chosen to forgo lunch, knowing you can barely keep anything down your throat at the moment. Shifting your gaze from the clusters of shops just outside the school gates, where the popular takoyaki stand beckons memories of post-school visits with your friends, you turn your attention to the person you had already half-expected to be Jungwon.

“You should eat something, even if just a little.” Jungwon places a piece of custard bread, banana milk, and a packet of your favourite gummies on your lap, almost pleading with you to eat.

“You didn’t have to.”

“Not when you look like as if the world is ending tomorrow.” Jungwon jokes, only to cough awkwardly when he realises you didn’t respond to his jokes, even with an eye-roll like you usually would.

“It might as well be. I just know my mother is going to KILL me.” You make sure to emphasise the word ‘kill.’ Because you aren’t wrong; if the world isn’t going to kill you tomorrow, your birth-giver will.

Unbeknownst to you, tears well up in your eyes, threatening to spill over. Witnessing you in such a vulnerable state tugs at Jungwon's heart; the girl he likes is breaking down in front of him and he doesn’t even know what to do. As he battles his inner thoughts, contemplating the best way to console you, he senses you clutching onto the sleeves of his uniform blazer. Pouting and fighting back tears, you say, “I’m going to be okay, right?”

“Yes, crybaby, everything is going to be okay.” You feel him begin to gently stroke your hair down to your neck, rubbing circles into the back of your ears as he makes another crybaby joke in an attempt to cheer you up.

“I’m not a crybaby,” you manage to say between hiccups and sobs, prompting Jungwon to emit a small snicker. The irony strikes you—a few weeks ago, you were in Jay’s garden comforting Jungwon as he held back tears, and now he's here comforting you in your most vulnerable state. The situation doesn’t go unnoticed by Jungwon, as he also recognises the irony of it, judging by the bittersweet way he smiles.

“Just because you fail once, doesn't mean you're gonna fail at everything.” Jungwon holds your cheek and tilts your head to face him, his thumbs swiping away fresh tears staining your cheeks.

“I don’t know… the one thing I’m good at, and I just flunked it-“

“Shh! Believe in yourself because if you don't, then who will? Life’s beautiful, and there's so much more to it than numbers on a piece of paper, Y/N. I hope you see that.”

In that moment, you realise you never really did look at your scores for the papers. Then you realise it wasn’t the scores that had you feeling worthless. Thinking back, you had already forgone looking at your scores a long time ago, as long as you stayed in that number one spot, as long as you didn’t disappoint your mother. You wanted to satisfy her, try to get her to praise you, but as your heartless mother has once said: “Why would I praise something that is supposed to be a given?”

You've spent your entire life routinely studying, evolving yourself into the machine your mother probably wished she had instead of a breathing human child—you.

In the echo of your academic routine, the fear of losing her approval looms larger than the tangible rankings you've held. The relentless pursuit of excellence, though driven by an inner desire for acknowledgment, is entangled in the web of your mother's expectations. So, what scares you isn’t the fact you no longer retained the number one spot; what scares you is disappointing the one person you craved validation from. What were you expecting? Because when the given is taken away from you, will she praise you then?

No. She’ll criticise you, blame your father, blame the documentary, and undoubtedly, she’ll gun after Jungwon. Because nothing is ever really her fault, and you knew sometime along the way that nothing will ever satisfy her, but you still try anyway. You try because you don’t know what else to do other than sticking to the status quo. Until, at least, the documentary featuring Jungwon happened.

What was initially supposed to be a pawn in your masterful plan to build your portfolio for University becomes the very documentary that breaks you out of your shell, as the looming prospect of your mother’s disapproval, like an oppressive cloud, pushes you to strive for success, even when you know it may never be enough for her.

“Eat.” You come back to your senses to find Jungwon has opened the packet of bread and shoved it into your mouth. He then watches you bite into it before he lets go to open the bottle of banana milk, handing them to you between bites of the bread.

Again, Jungwon with his overly friendly gestures that graze the delicate line between friends and something more than that. Jungwon, who once again, manages to empty your mind by babying you and treating you like a princess who needs rescuing.

“You’re confusing me.” The words fly out of your mouth before you even get the chance to rethink

“Doesn’t mean I’m feeding you like a baby that you are actually one.” He teases, and you watch him as he takes a sip out of the banana milk, from the same straw you used. Pushing away the thought that you’ve just indirectly kissed him, you're just glad he didn’t catch onto the intention behind your statement.

“I feel bad that you’re here comforting me, when you should be celebrating having passed a certain Math paper after all that hard work.”

“It was your hard work as much as it was mine, Y/N.” Jungwon takes his thumb, wiping at the corner of your lips where custard from the bread had oozed out and stayed. He then brings it up to his own lips, eating it off his finger. You just indirectly kissed him, again.

Your heartbeat quickens, a symphony of excitement drowning out any lingering worries about exams or your mother. Your mind is a canvas painted with thoughts of Jungwon and his unexpected gestures that got you contemplating the possibility of him being interested in you. Surely, Yang Jungwon isn’t known for being a romantic guy, but once again, you're proven wrong; he is that guy.

This certainty solidifies as he opens the packet of gummies, deliberately picking out the red-coloured ones first, knowing that you ate them in the colour of the rainbow; a subtle detail that shows he pays attention to your preferences.

At first, they were really subtle gestures that made you realise how horribly you have misjudged him. Then came the heartfelt actions, revealing a caring side that made you question if he had always been this way. The tipping point was realising these gestures were exclusively reserved for you, unveiling sides of Jungwon that remained hidden from everyone else. While others perceived him as mundane, cold, and mysterious, you alone saw a different Yang Jungwon.

And when you see the scoreboard, someone else’s name above yours for the very first time, it shocks you to the core that you, in fact, did not care. That the first thing you sought was Jungwon’s rankings on the board, eager to know if your efforts in tutoring him paid off, if he can participate in the competition that has become crucial to him and, by extension, vital to you.

For the first time, someone else's grades mattered more than your own. This epiphany stretches beyond academic priorities, signifying that Jungwon holds a place in your life beyond the confines of friendship; that he is more than just a friend that you make him out to be.

You like him, more than you let yourself on.

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♡。·˚˚· ·˚˚·。♡

authors note: i kept my promise yall 😁😁🤟 and yes yn mom needs a whole ass tw. i’d say we are a good 10 chapters away from the finale and i’m currently considering next projects but we’ll see 👀 also do expect more written chapters, i rlly tried to reduce them as much as possible but it’s so hard to write without going into detail… BUT i’ll defo make it up with super fluffy and sweet chapters 🤭

perm taglist. @hajimelvr @s00buwu @urmomssneakylink @grayscorner @bubblytaetae @mrchweeee @artstaeh @sleeping-demons @yuviqik @junsflow

taglist open! @uuzhanggggggg @jayhoonvroom @missingemobeomgyu @jiawji @ocyeanicc @s7noo @asterizee @nwjws @noascats @yunwonie @saturnmooonxx @enhaz1 @jiaant11 @clairecottenheart @i2lain @miumiuoi @zhounauts @hoey2k @neocockthotology @nanuer @yenqa @ahnneyong @chanhee-hee @yanqiiuver @yujmelon @beomsbeanie @sloobydooburmomjungwon @keiisu @jaeyunniesimp @jiamini @jihanniee @lilriswife4life

[telephonetrance]

question! why is math arousing for u? (curious, not kinkshaming unless that's what you're into)

ok this is gonna be an absolute ramble so i hope you enjoy

there’s definitely multiple aspects to it, like one is the rlly silly and cartoonish idea of Being a number or other mathematical object, being manipulated and transformed and messed with

and just in general math is so abstract so its interesting to personify it, like how does it FEEL for a number to be multiplied by 0, or for a really complex equation to be reduced, or for a shape to be transformed???? this kinda connects to objectum stuff, like personifying inanimate things! it also connects to hypnosis, bc that’s a way to experience these abstract feelings

another thing abt math+hypnosis is that i feel like math proofs, or explaining stuff abt math in general, can be rlly hypno-adjacent? like you’re explaining to someone a different model to see the world and they have to fit it into their worldview!!! working with someone within a model that’s abstract/removed from reality is Literally hypnotizing them . this is true i swear . (this is why playing games with people is also hypnosis)

ANOTHER thing is that i think it’s fun when math is framed in like . an almost divine and magical and eldritch way . i can’t explain this part as well off the top of my head but ive definitely seen math framed in this way before

so yeah id say that the way your question is phrased is a little untrue for me bc i don’t rlly find math Physically Arousing, and definitely not all the time (just took a math midterm and was very stressed and un-turned on), but i think in the right context it works rlly well with kink and it can be very hot+appealing+fascinating 2 me

[evereinefaust]

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥 𝐋𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐬 ࿐ྂ

Pairing: Senku Ishigami X afab!Reader

Synopsis: So, how did MC, an average student, get personally tutored by the genius scientist in school? In math lessons, nonetheless.

Word Count: 4,220

Tick... Tock... Tick... Tock...

​​​​You block out the white noise that encompasses the entirety of the classroom; the white noise being⁠—in your vocabulary⁠—your Math teacher, Mr. Ishikawa. You couldn't be bothered to listen to his discussion anymore, seeing that you've been so lost in thought for at most the initial 15 minutes of his class that you practically cannot catch up with the rest of the students. So why not spend the remaining hour doodling and watching as the clock hand goes by? And that, you did.

The middle-aged teacher had noticed your aloofness from the corner of his eyes. He knew that you weren't paying any attention to the lesson at hand, not to mention that you were in contrast to the sea of students who had their heads buried deep in their textbooks. Your [e/c] irises were blankly staring at the wall clock located at the front of the class, just above the board. If others were to observe, they would be convinced that you were paying attention to the mathematical equations scribbled on the chalkboard. In a nutshell, you stuck out like a sore thumb.

The man sighed, easing his headache by gently massaging his temple. The midterms were coming right up, and he feared that his students wouldn't have enough time to prepare and study for the test. To say that he's slightly concerned is an understatement; he's anxious for them. The majority of students had problems with the Math lessons this semester, and he couldn't blame them. Imagine having to memorize more than 10 formulas and being expected for to stay with you until you use it on exam day. And that's not all, you also have to familiarize yourself with the terms used and avoid confusing it with another.

He knew that his students would pay attention to the lesson and try to catch up as much as possible, but what he didn't expect was you be absentminded and have your head up in the clouds in his subject: Mathematics. Mr. Ishikawa never doubted your intelligence as a student; you are averaging and have no problems with Math, though a bit confused at times, but nothing that you couldn't get your head around. However, at a critical time like this, he can't help but reprimand your behavior later.

Ding... Ding... Ding... Dong...

Finally, the awaited hour at last. The school bel⁠l's chimes resonated around the whole campus, enveloping the students and faculty members alike with its gentle, relaxing tune. A sigh escaped your pink lips as you glanced at the time for the last time. 3:15 in the afternoon, meaning, the dreaded period has ended and you can finally go on to your merry way. Mr. Ishikawa stood up from his seat and faced the students, addressing his concerns about the upcoming exams. After, he had dismissed your class.

​​​​You immediately fixed your belongings inside your black shoulder bag⁠—not that you have a lot to return inside since you zoned out from the last period⁠—and stood up from your seat. Bringing the strap over your shoulder, you watched as your classmates headed out from the back door, leaving only a few, you included, inside. You were about to take a step towards the exit when a stern voice called you.

"Miss [L/n]."

You visibly flinched at the tone of his voice—serious and firm. It was the usual setting between student and teacher, although the way that it was delivered to you made you unsettled. It's like you've been caught red-handed by your parents, only this time, you didn't even know what you did wrong.

You whipped your head back to the older male at his table, dark blue eyes boring holes into your soul. You were tense but still decided to wear a convincing confused front, masking your anxiety effectively.

"Yes, sensei?"

"Please come here for a second. I need to address you about something."

The way that he motioned you over or the fact that he had his finger on his temple didn't look like it was going to be good news of some sort. You swallow a small lump in your throat as you saunter to where the teacher is. You surely didn't get into trouble, right?

"What it is you wanted to talk about, sensei?" You cautiously queried, becoming more anxious than you already were.

"Miss [L/n], I know that you're a hardworking student and your grades in Math aren't that bad. However⁠," Mr. Ishikawa spared a glance at his student, observing your bodily cues. "⁠—it seems that you weren't paying attention in class today. Is something the matter? I know that lessons this semester are quite difficult, but please be aware that midterms are approaching. I don't want your grades to be in danger, especially in my subject."

You pursed your lips at his words. You didn't hate him or his subject in any way. Although Math has given you quite the difficulty⁠—no, wait, scratch that⁠. It is literal hell⁠—you still manage to bring your grades up even just a bit. You consider yourself as just average in the subject, not that smart to constantly have an achievement, nor dumb to fail. It's just so-so, enough to let you pass. However, it seems that your grades are suffering and on the verge of failing.

You weren't so sure what the cause might be, or if you were to blame in this situation. Nevertheless, the news is certainly not good for your ears to hear. You glanced at the oakwood floor for a while, before returning your attention to the teacher.

"I'm sorry, sensei. There's nothing wrong. I just feel overwhelmed with the subject that I tend to space out," giving a sincere bow, you explained your reasoning.

Mr. Ishikawa's calculating gaze didn't leave you for a bit, making you shuffle slightly in your spot. He then let out an exasperated sigh, his hand waving dismissively. "No matter, it doesn't change the fact about your grades and midterms. If things were to continue like this, you'd surely fail my subject. I'd recommend that you have someone to tutor you in the meantime, in that way, you won't fail."

The male before you gave you a knowing look. You weren't quite fond of having a tutor, to say the least, especially when if it's someone you don't know. But, what other options do you have? It's not like you want to fail in your second year of high school. So with a squeamish heart, you spoke, "...Alright."

"Great. I'm sure that Mister Ishigami won't mind tutoring you," with that said, Mr. Ishikawa flashed you a smile as he fixed his books.

Pink flushed across your cheeks at the mention of the student. Sure, you and the leek-haired genius were friends for like, years. But just pondering about the thought of him tutoring you sent you into overdrive. You secretly had a crush on the male since but didn't have enough courage to confess the feelings. Just acting normal was tough when every time, you're being assaulted by your hormones to do something intimate to him. So spending time with him tutoring you was something you haven't imagined, even in your wildest dreams.

The sudden screech of metal against the wooden floor broke you out of your trance. Facing the teacher once again, he patted you on the shoulder and stepped out of his seat, pushing the chair further into the work desk.

"I'll be leaving now. Be careful on your way home, Miss [L/n]. And please don't forget our discussion, alright?"

You bowed your head. "Yes, sensei."

"Good," a smile etched on his aged face.

Your gaze trailed upon Mr. Ishikawa's back as he walked out the front door, probably heading back to the faculty room. You let your eyes linger on the closed sliding door, before releasing a huff of annoyance. Gripping your bag strap, you trudged over the aperture and exited the classroom.

The hallway was seemingly empty, considering that your earlier discussion took more than five minutes. Your [e/c] eyes observed the surroundings as you walked⁠—cream-colored walls, wooden oak floorboards, metal plaque located above each room to indicate the room name, and sliding doors with windows. You muttered in each room as you passed by them, boredom lacing in your tone.

"Class 2-2, class 2-3, literature club, library..." An exasperated sigh escaped your lips after, noticing that there was no more classroom by the end of the hall.

Your feet immediately turned a swift left into another hallway, only this time, you were met with a familiar person. You recognized the skinny young man with his iconic anti-gravity leek hair with two locks that drape over his face. He had his hands in his pockets while staring at the floorboard, seemingly lost in thought⁠—you noted. Yet, despite him not noticing you, just the sight of the teenager made your face flush.

Eventually, the student turned his gaze to the front, landing on nothing else but you. The surprise was written over his expression, but he nevertheless smirked at the sight of his best friend. "Well, isn't this a surprise? I was 10 billion percent sure that you're on your way home right now."

You playfully rolled your eyes at him, stopping just a meter from your best friend. "Well, apparently, your calculations were off since I'm here right now."

"Let me guess, waiting for me?" the male said, placing his hand on his chin as if thinking. Though the smirk on his face never left, making your blush redden.

"Sorry, but I wasn't boy genius," you let out a scoff, crossing your arms as you tried to cool down your cheeks. "I would be delighted if that's the case since you're nowhere to be seen during the last period. Speaking of which, where were you during Math?"

"Since the school's Science competition is nearing, every teacher gave us, the Science club, permission to spend the last period preparing for the competition," Senku explained, placing his hands on his hips as he did so. "So being the club president, I was at our club room for the hour."

You nodded in understanding. But soon, your lips contorted into a pout, eyebrows creasing to accentuate your hidden indignation. "How nice. I wish I could escape the Math period as well."

"Silly," without warning, Senku flicked your forehead which earned him a surprised yelp. "You know that you can't just skip the subject. So tell me, what makes you upset this time?"

Despite Senku's remarks and occasional forehead flicking, you knew that he was genuinely concerned about you, especially your studies. Sure, he would appear arrogant and overbearing, often annoying you about your oh-so-average grades, but there isn't just a moment when he didn't help you improve. Not to mention that he's so observant about you that he can point out your cues and even know what you're feeling at the moment. That's why you admire the boy so much.

A frown replaced your pouting lips at his words, slumping your shoulder a bit. "I was held back to discuss something with Ishikawa-sensei."

"And that is?" he quirked a brow, prodding you to explain further.

"Ishikawa-sensei told me about my grades, and apparently, it's suffering. So for me to pass the upcoming tests, he advised that I should get someone to tutor me in the meantime," an annoyed sigh escaped your lips after that statement. 

"If that's your concern then you don't have to worry about it too much. Overthinking might lead to losing more brain cells."

"Hey!" you shouted at him, offended by his sarcastic remarks.

"No need to shout at me, [Name]. Geez! I was only joking," he pulled up his hands in surrender. "Besides, you already have me. Who else helps you study, silly?"

Your [e/c] hues stared at the male's face, still not quite convinced. A pout graced your lips while your cheeks were red in embarrassment. Eyebrows still creased up, indicating your agitation. Senku didn't bother to move an inch under your heated stare. The boy knew all too well about your tendencies and antics, and this one of them.

The moment lasted for another minute when Senku broke your trance with his iconic smirk. This made you blink in surprise as realization fell on you; you'd been staring at your best friend's devilishly attractive features for too long. You instantly flared at this, moving your head back while averting your gaze somewhere but him.

God, couldn't you be a little more cautious around him? You're ogling him in front of his face! Isn't that super embarrassing? Whatever excuse your head came up with, you couldn't justify your earlier action by any means. So instead of speaking, you decided to remain silent until he spoke first. Damn, your teenage hormones.

"What? Too embarrassed to have me as your tutor?" Senku mused. Despite you being unable to see his face, just hearing the teasing tone of his voice is enough to know that a smirk was still on his face.

You were close to snapping back at him, but you held your tongue back at the realization. It dawned on you a moment after his claim that he was volunteering to tutor you in Math. You were beyond baffled. Sure, the two of you occasionally spend time reviewing and studying, but that was way too long ago. Considering that he's always busy in his club and studies, you concluded that you should just leave him be⁠—not bothering to ask him to help you study.

"Wai⁠—w-what?" you whipped your head back at him, face covered in a red hue.

Senku just sighed. "You told me about your grade problem, right? So to help you study, I'll be tutoring you starting today."

Your eyes widened at his claim. Surely, your mind isn't just making up the scenario, right? Admittedly, due to your annoying hormones, you once imagined being tutored by this leek genius at school in private⁠. And not only that, but your dirty mind also added another scenario following that. But we'll never speak of it any further.

"Can't it be tomorrow?" you whined, pleading him with your puppy eyes to at least let him save you from further embarrassment. Who might know? Your hormones might initiate something you wouldn't want to happen.

"No, the earlier, the better," he retorted, grabbing your hand and dragged you inside an empty, unused classroom. "You will improve quickly this way, I'm 10 billion percent certain."

You just swallowed a lump in your throat as he led the way, nervous sweat rolling down from your forehead as your heart sped up. Your head was swirling with dirty thoughts and different scenarios. Once the two of you entered the room, you shook your head, ridding yourself of those thoughts, and tried to focus on the situation at hand.

Your eyes observed the classroom⁠—even though it was unused, it wasn't overall bad. The room had a total of 20 desks with five chairs in each row, a rather small chalkboard on the front, a shelf that stores personal belongings at the back, and a storage cabinet at the farthest corner. You sat on an empty chair in the front row as you were instructed to. Taking out a notebook, the Math textbook, and a pen, you then set down your belongings on the table while placing the bag on the ground.

A frown made unto your face at the idea. Sure, you wanted help with your current problem, but you aren't that obliged to start the tutoring session right away. You thought that maybe you could have a day or two without worrying about your brain exploding from information overload. Though it seems that Lady Luck has long abandoned you.

A comfortable silence settled between you two. Senku scanned the vicinity to find⁠—what you guessed as⁠—chalks while you were watching him. You hadn't noticed it earlier, but now you knew that the male wasn't wearing the usual uniform, nor his iconic lab coat.

"Why aren't you in your uniform, Senku?" you asked, trying to spark up a casual conversation before getting down to studying.

"We made a miscalculation with the project, and then one thing leads to another, then kaboom⁠—" the leek-haired replied, rummaging through the storage cabinet and found the item he's looking for. "⁠—We're all covered in dust that's why I decided to change."

"Oh."

"Anyways, let's start," Senku announced as he made his way to the front. "I'm guessing that the lesson is still about 'Estimation of Parameters', right?"

You nodded in reply, opening the textbook to what you assumed was the last lesson discussed. "Ishikawa-sensei discussed 'Calculating the Confidence Interval', I think. I wasn't listening."

Your best friend let out a disapproving sigh. "No wonder you need a tutor."

"Eh, not my fault that Math's scummy and difficult to understand," you scoffed, rolling your eyes at him.

"No, it isn't. You're just not paying attention during lessons," he deadpanned.

"No. And yes, I'm paying attention. Why do I even pass the exams if I wasn't?" you quipped back.

"Who knows? Maybe it's just your abundant amount of sheer luck," the male shrugged before facing the board. "Anyway, I don't have even a millimeter of interest arguing with you. So please listen to me as I review the basics of this unit. We don't want you to fail now, do we?"

The deliberate side glance Senku gave you made you huff in annoyance. You were about to resort to another snappy remark earlier if it wasn't for his immediate interruption. You two knew all too well that once either of you started something, it wouldn't be the end of it. So instead of a peaceful study session, it might've ended up in a full-blown squabble between you two. Slumping deep in your seat, you watched as Senku scribbled formulas and definitions on the board with a blank look on your face.

Senku started to re-discuss the lesson shortly after, with you trying to catch up with his explanation and take some notes as he continued. The male would often pause or slow down his speech as he waited for you to comprehend the lecture. He would also approach you and inspect your progress, checking out any errors that you've made and aid you with some tips for the solution. At first, it didn't seem so bad, until you came to a certain point where your brain could not grasp the new information anymore.

It didn't take you an hour to zone out from the seemingly long lecture. The fact that the young scientist was busy writing down the next sample problem gave you the spare time to take a trip to fantasy land. The scraping of the white chalk against the wooden board was the only sound that you could hear.

"First, identify the variables before substituting the formula. It's crucial to know which is the mean, standard deviation, and the sample size," the teenage male instructed, writing down the solutions with his left hand resting on his hip.

You began to tune out his voice by this point, boredom was visible on your blank [e/c] irises that were staring downward. You propped up against your right elbow on the table, resting your cheek on the base of your palm. Holding up the pen in your left hand, you let your thumb graze the tip before pushing it down.

Click! Click! Click!

Senku turned around at the soft sound that distracted him, his crimson hues landing upon the female he was tutoring. He noticed that you've let out a disinterested sigh, continuing your small ministration. Senku's eyebrow twitched a bit, silently face-palming—you will surely be the end of him.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Footsteps echoed inside the room as a certain male trudged over to where his best friend sat. Once he's in front of your desk, he gently—but still making sure to produce enough sound to alert the girl—slammed his right hand on the wooden table while the other made its way under your chin. Placing his thumb below your parted lips and folded index finger below your chin, he slowly lifts your head, forcing you to make eye contact with his mesmerizing ruby jewels.

Your cheeks heated up at the unexpected intimate gestures; your eyes were wide as saucers as you willingly stared at Senku, your soft lips were parted out of shock, your heart racing inside of your chest, while your brain could not comprehend the situation at hand. Senku's face was just a few inches from yours, making it accessible for you to observe his flawless features; the stray locks of greenish-white hair that gently draped over his face as his eyebrows were scrunched up in a frown, crimson orbs contained disappointment and concern. You could've sworn that you weren't even breathing at this point due to the unexpected turn of events.

"[Name]..." he started, voice gentle as he chided you. "How can you pass the upcoming exam if you don't pay attention to me?"

You could've sworn that your brain interpreted that differently. Surely, he only meant about him explaining the lesson, right? But then why did the red hue across your cheeks darken? And most importantly, when did he start to sound so concerned about you? If you could remember correctly, never did he ever do this kind of thing to you. Like ever. So why the change? Honestly, your mind was brewing a lot of questions that you're pretty sure wouldn't get answered at all.

The two of you stared at each other's eyes for another minute before you broke the interaction by shyly averting your gaze away. You pursed your quivering lips, the sound of your heartbeat ringing in your ears. Senku disregarded your initial reaction and decided to pull back. He isn't an idiot; he knew that you were a bit uncomfortable and flustered at his action.

"[Name], you need to pay attention when I'm teaching. Or else you won't pass the midterms," the male sighed, pulling a nearby chair and setting it beside the girl, sitting on it after. "Maybe it's better if I teach you this way."

However, you didn't respond to his remark, feeling your face flush red at this proximity. Senku resumed tutoring you—his whole attention on you and your notes which you found embarrassing. You didn't hate this setup, however, it made it difficult for you to focus on the lecture when your [e/c] hues kept stealing glances at your crush.

An hour later, the young genius eventually ended the session. Both of you prepared to go home—you fixed your things while Senku erased the writings on the board. After that, the two of you exited the room and walked in a comfortable silence through the halls. Your [e/c] hues glanced outside the window, witnessing the sun descending behind the horizon. The palette of orange, yellow, pink, and violet decorated the evening sky, providing you a sense of warmth and serenity. Your mind wandered back to earlier events, a slight scarlet hue spread across your warm cheeks.

Letting out a contented sigh, you gaze back on the front. By this time, you've noticed that you and your best friend were out of the campus and heading home. Once more, you stole a glance at the male beside you. Senku was facing forward, his ruby orbs intently locked on the path both of you were heading. The way that the yellowish-orange rays adorned his features gave off a gentle glow. You didn't notice a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips at this sight.

"Well, this is home," you chirped once the two of you arrived at your street.

Senku halted at your announcement, his eyes landing on your petite back. You stayed standing for a moment before turning around to the male and stepping closer into his personal space. Senku closely watched you as you leaned in, pressing your soft lips against his pale cheeks. It happened so quickly that when the male finally registered the occurrence, you were already on your heel and ran away from him. His cheeks bloomed to a shade of scarlet at your bold gesture. Surely, he wasn't expecting this interaction to happen.

A smile adorned his handsome features, soft crimson hues staring at your faraway silhouette. "Well, this is exhilarating."

[ao3feed-jonmartin]

Peter I want a divorce but I have a good reason this time I swear

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/icRZOkh by FaeFae_Fei Peter Lukas comes home from a year at sea to an empty house. Not unusual, considering his husband is, well, Elias. But this time, Elias doesn't come home, even after a week. For Peter this all is completely fine and normal, until he one day checks his mailbox... Words: 619, Chapters: 1/19, Language: English Series: Part 1 of AHHH I CAN'T MAKE A GOOD TITLE WITHOUT SPOILING IT ALL anyways Lonelyeyes basically Fandoms: The Magnus Archives (Podcast) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: Multi Characters: Peter Lukas, Elias Bouchard | Jonah Magnus, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood, Oliver Banks, Michael "Mike" Crew, Michael | The Distortion (The Magnus Archives), Michael Shelley, Nikola Orsinov, Jane Prentiss Relationships: Elias Bouchard | Jonah Magnus/Peter Lukas, Elias Bouchard | Jonah Magnus/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Terminal Velocity mentioned, Doorkeay mentioned, Ringworm mentioned, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist Additional Tags: Danish Elias Bouchard, I just can't get the image of Mads Mikkelsen as Elias Bouchard out of my head, please help, it hurts, I thought about it during midterms in mathematics, Mads Mikkelsen you beautiful man, You hurt me by exsisting, Norwegian Peter Lukas, Serial Divorcees Elias Bouchard | Jonah Magnus/Peter Lukas, POV Peter Lukas, Divorced Elias Bouchard | Jonah Magnus/Peter Lukas, Married Elias Bouchard | Jonah Magnus/Peter Lukas, its complicated, Serbian Nikola Orsinov, It pisses me off that she is russian, NIKOLA IS NOT A RUSSIAN NAME, ITS SERBIAN, my god, But she can be half-half, Not half russian tho fuck you, Serbian-Tatar, I NEED MORE TATAR REPRESENTATION PLEASe, Spesifically Volga Tatar, Btw Nikola is actually a male name in Serbian, In german it is female, But this is The Magnus Archives, So she can be serbian Nikola the babygirl mannequinn ringmaster stranger entity, Author is only on series 3, So the Terminal Velocity will be fully based on Tumblr, sorry - Freeform, Why the fuck am I apologising this is my AU, FUCK YALL, I do what I wanna do, Fuck this I need to stop writing tags, Cause there will be more added as the story expands read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/icRZOkh

[rondo-grazioso]

some math professor quotes

I just remembered about this draft post i made years ago during a semester when i had maybe the funniest professors ever. I guess now that it’s been a while since i’ve been out of uni it’d be fun to just post these 

Algebra

it’s ok that i’m confused, i’m confused all the time

you can teach a monkey to memorize…well, nothing against monkeys, monkeys are amazing

pray that this is an isomorphism

(TA after realizing mistake) oh noooooo….all the other students….i told them the wrong thing…aaah shit

wow…spontaneous silence

can they smurf better

if you look at the solutions after trying a question only once or twice, it will break my heart

last-minute cramming will be about as useful as bringing your dog to the exam

Calculus

this fucker converges

(every time he writes a complicated equation) what the fuuuuu

fuck the one

you know what bfc stands for? big fuckin cube

mathematics is serious!! we don’t like laughter. no laughter allowed. stop laughing. even smiling is not allowed

(someone’s phone goes off) what was that? probably me

(some weird noise coming from outside) what was that? god is that you

e^x is god’s function. lnx is the devil’s function

*comes in talking in a russian accent*

if you don’t know what the dot product is then…you’re fucked 

(after telling a story about experience working in a mental asylum) you may think i’m insane, but you haven’t seen what insane really is!! i’m perfectly normal 

Analysis

½ is less than 1…somehow

oh, 5 minutes left…well, i don’t really have anything else i want to cover. actually maybe i’ll just write a definition *(whole class goes NOOOOO)* okayyy

(finding out there is 15 minutes left of class) oh wow. i thought this would’ve taken me more time to get through

(after playing around with some faulty blackboards) i’m scared for my life now 

(after being stuck on his own proof) i’m going to take a quick look at my notes, which is already pretty embarrassing 

(after making a gajillion mistakes on the board) i really need to learn to read before i talk 

what do you call this in canada

(TA) *coughs* sorry i’m dying 

(TA) somebody on the midterm wrote “i’m dumb” on this question. that’s pretty irrelevant because i’m dumb and i can do this question