inverse equations

New York, New York

Originally posted by shawnskisses

Requested by anonymous: I LOVE YOUR WRITING!!! Can you do one where shawn finished a concert, on his way to a plane to go to you and he get in a car accident. After months in coma he wakes up and your still there waiting for him even if a lot of people told you to move on?

Note: tears, just tears and it’s super long so prepare yourselves



This was not happening.

You were not going to let this happen.

Everyone was silent.

And then you lost it.

Keep reading

Standardized Tests
  • School Board: Hey, let's give these kids who are taking advanced math courses a test filled with the curriculum they learned 2 years ago without giving the teacher with mixed grade classes time to go over each grade level's test's separate material so that the students can have a reminder. Then let's base the funds the school gets over these poor, unprepared, stressed children who are taking time out of learning useful stuff to go over inverse variations and linear equations. That makes sense!

A/N: this is my first reader insert fic!!! I just wanted to do some freelance writing with random ideas i had– more or less reader has been friends with peter since childhood and has always stood up for him and held his hands through things so seeing the change is weird and yada yada idk i was playing around!! sorry if theres mistakes i got lazy and didnt feel like spell checking – ps sorry i didnt use gender neutral pronouns! i will next time– that being said too if you have any writing recs for peter/reader or want me to continue this one shoot me an ask! <3 ok thats all im done rambling

“I guess I don’t … I’m not used to it.”

Y/N sat, her back propped up against the blue tint of Peter’s bedroom wall. Her mind tapped away at the thoughts she’d accumulated in the past week– that is,her best friend was (is) the one that New York looks towards as “Spiderman”.

The idea stressed her out, frankly, that her best friend (if not her only friend) was becoming the crime fighting web slinging hero that everyone so admired. It was too ironic to her. Her awkward friend with his soft arms and t shirts coated in stains from Aunt May’s spaghetti. The kid who stuttered over his own words, that she had to fight for ever since his parents died when they were young; he was spiderman.

“ Neither am I.” He replied, tapping his pencil away at some problem about some kind of inverse functions in polynomial equations.

The simplicity of everything about their lives, their relationship, that’s what seemed to hurt the most. That the reason he’d been missing school in the morning was because he stayed up too late, swinging across the skyline like it was no big deal. Especially after he cared so mind blowingly much about his education and school and science. He changed. Y/N wasn’t used to change like that, in that sort of large capacity. She was used to changes like ‘can we get together around 6 instead of 5?’ and ‘make sure you’re wearing a jacket today, it’s starting to cool down’– not ‘I’m spiderman.’

It scared her. Not just the thought that he was going about, getting in small fights and earning spreads of violet and blue across his cheeks and eyes, but because she was the one that was used to doing that. Hell, she only signed up for self defense and karate classes in the 4th grade because she wanted to protect him– not because her parents were scared about her walking alone around the busy streets of New York. Everything she did was to protect and defend the things she loved, and she just had to love Peter Parker above all things.  

“Sorry, I’m just used to being the one to defend you … I guess… and I– I don’t have to anymore? You’re taller than me and ‘I’m starting to think you might be smarter than me and nothing’s like it was when–”

“I was normal”

“I guess you could say that. But I don’t think you’ve ever been normal. You used to tuck your shirt into your sweatpants in third grade–”

“I’ll stop you there, don’t ruin this moment … I mean– I don’t think you’ve ever been this open with me, so there’s something that’s changing for the better if it makes you feel… better”

She glanced to the side.

“Sorry I’m so tense.”

“W- You’re not!”

“I am.”


He paused

“ It’s not that you’re tense i just feel like you don’t talk to me about how you’re feeling. . I mean, after so many years with you i’ve started to assume what your actions mean but you’ve never been open with me and I– It scares me! That you might be keeping your feelings from me just because you don’t want me to worry.”

She looked at him with her eyes bigger than a full moon. Not out of surprise, but out of realization– that what she did to prevent worrying others only worried them more. Sure, she had her feelings, but she always told herself to tough it out. She had to be the strong one.

“I’m sorry,Y/N i’m not trying to bag on you i just guess– i feel like you pity me sometimes and because of that you feel like you’re not allowed to … tell me if you’re sad or uncomfortable.”


“And now that I’m– what, this big ‘tall’ smart guy… you’re starting to pity me less and it scares you… maybe.”

She knit her eyebrows together

“N-Not in a bad way I mean I’m not upset–” He started

“Don’t lie to me to make me feel better. You always do that.”

“S.. orry.”

“Me too.”

“Just… I still rely on you for things y’know? You can do the same with me, I can be supportive.” He pulled at the sleeve of his shirt, and flexed “I mean, check these guns amiright.”
Y/N smiled, which happened to be a rare occurrence. But these sort of moments made her feel so at home. So nostalgic and loving towards her best friend, this nerd.

“What guns? Where? I think I need a microscope, do you still keep yours in your desk?” She joked, looking over towards the small white desk squeezed into the corner of his room.

“Harsh! HarshY/N.”

She turned back, flicking her sleek hair across her back. A small smile tugged at the side of her warm cheeks, “I think when I look at you I’m always just gonna’ see the same kid that stood all proudly next to his junk science fair volcano in kindergarten y’know. It’s weird, like how when you see your relatives you haven’t seen for a while and they’re like ‘oh you’ve grown so much’ and you just stand there kind of confused. That’s me with this.”

Peter decided to shut his chunky algebra book, a soft wave of air coming from it. He sat it to the side of his wrinkled bed sheets and repositioned himself to lean a shoulder against his bedpost to face Y/N.

“You afraid you’re gonna lose me or something? I- I mean you know you’re my best friend and I mean I love.. I love you and all that mushy gushy stuff.”

“Maybe you’re right maybe I’m just afraid of something like that. Like, moments like this seem rare nowadays where as a couple months ago it was nearly every day. “

“M’ sorry Y/N-”

“No it’s” she paused slightly, retracting emotions. “It’s fine. I understand you have this weird duty to fulfill now.”

“Now who’s the one lying to make another feel better huh?”

She shot a glare at him. They knew each other too well. Any sort of interaction between the two was mutual. Neither could lie because the other could see right through it, and nobody wants the one they love to lie. Nobody wants the one they love taken from them either. So maybe that’s what it was. Y/N was jealous, she was jealous of the world and of dumb spider chemical things that she didn’t want to even try to understand, she was jealous of Tony Stark and the normalcy between Peter that he took from her. Y/N was also angry, angry that she couldn’t do more like she’d always done, angry at the world that refused to turn any slower and angry at her hands for shaking so much when she woke up at three am and peter was gone in Berlin getting hit god knows where by god knows who.

And most of all Y/N was in love, because she was angry and scared and jealous and at home and her hands got ecstatic from small brushes of skin between borrowed pencils. And she was so unsure about the love she had– because was it romantic or platonic?

Her gaze softened.

“I don’t know. I love you I guess, just don’t die or I’ll kill you.”

[part 2]

idk instead of being really old smart guys who were renowned in their community i feel like early mathematicians were actually the equivalent of asshole frat boys who ran around making up shit rules and getting away with it just to get what they want. early mesopatamia, no Nabu-bal-idinna you cant rule, well you see this? [scribbles on clay furiously] fuckin pythagorean theorem says i can and you have no way to prove it doesnt [brofists friends]. ancient greece. the bros gather round, hooting and hollering as they party, archimedes wants that fuckin cheese, he wants all of it, but he was only offered a quarter of it, but thats roughly equivalent to π/2 of the cheese, and if he applies that into an inverse trigonometric equation and does some calculus shit on it somehow he’ll get the whole fuckin cheese, the whole place is floored, his squad yellin, people are passin out, fuck you archimedes, fuck you and your math bullshit and your excessive love for cheese

Inverse Equations (Chapter 4)

My alarm clock has been in the same place since I’d moved to Madrid a year ago; yet whenever I actually had an alarm set, I was never able to find it. I’d fumble around and knock things off my bed side table looking for it before giving up and turning on the light because my curtains kept my room almost pitch black even in the middle of the day. Of course this morning at eight o’clock was no different.

After finally turning off the god awful alarm, I swung my legs off the side of the bed and stretched my arms high above my head, reaching for the ceiling. Dropping my arms to my side, I let out a sigh and started for the kitchen. I was a breakfast nut. I refused to do anything before having waffles, pancakes, or cereal. Or all of the above. It was amazing I was actually able to eat so much. I thanked my parents daily for my never-ending stomach.

This morning I poured myself a bowl of cocoa puffs and thought about my day ahead. At least once a week I volunteered at one of Madrid’s children’s hospitals. There were three, but I mainly visited Hospital Infantil Universitario Niño Jesus, which was solely for children while the other two were branches of bigger hospitals. Since I didn’t have any classes today, I decided to head over there for the day.

Thankfully, I didn’t have to wear a uniform; a name tag on the left side of my chest was sufficient for them. I hardly needed even that; almost everyone knew my name and I usually spent my time with the same child: a little girl named Elsa. I didn’t know what she had exactly; all I knew was she was slowly getting better and could be released in as early as a year. She was only four, so my visits usually consisted of me reading her stories and playing with her dolls.

I slipped on a pair of khaki shorts and pulled a dark gray v neck over my head. I grabbed my pair of Ked’s from under my bed, how they got under there I didn’t know, and quickly put them on my feet. I ran my brush through my bedhead, put on some tinted moisturizer, grabbed my purse with my name tag, and was out the door all before eight thirty.


Elsa loved braiding my hair. I mean really loved it. I was actually shocked she knew how to at first, I don’t think I learned until I was six, but she was already a pro. So whenever she asked, I’d turn my back to her and let her braid to her heart’s desire. Today she decided my hair would look good as a big braid that was made of a bunch of smaller braids. It took a while to do, my hair is so long and her hands so small, but it looked amazing when she’d finished.

“I’m going to come to you whenever I want my hair done, okay?” I asked her after staring at my hair in awe for a good minute.

She giggled and nodded her head excitedly. Honestly, I forgot she was sick whenever I was around her. The only reminder was the occasional nurse that checked on her. Her room didn’t even look like it was in a hospital; it looked like any normal little girl’s room.

My stomach decided to growl and remind me it was noon aka four hours since I’d last ate. “Hey, I’m feeling a little hungry. Do you want me to bring you anything back?”

She smiled coyly at me. “Cake. Or ice cream.”

Oh, I knew her sweet tooth very well. “All right, I’ll check for you and bring you back something nutritious.”

I took the familiar path to the kitchen. I was honestly shocked the first time I’d ate there; it wasn’t crap, it was actually really good. Or maybe I was just buying into the stereotype that hospitals had bad food. It wasn’t like I had a lot of experience with hospital food.

I rounded the corner and took my place in line, which consisted of only a few other people. I grabbed myself an apple and walnut salad and a bag of pretzels. I smiled to myself when I saw they had chocolate cake, Elsa’s favorite. I’d grab her some after I’d finished eating.

I sat down at an empty table by one of the entrances and a row of windows. I stared out the closest window while I ate my food. Before I knew it, my salad was gone. I stared at my now empty plate and wondered if it really was possible to inhale food. At least if I had choked I was in a hospital.

I popped a pretzel twist into my mouth and looked away from the windows to the entry in front of me. Just then the last person I had expected to see walked through the door and I started to choke on the pretzel. Of course I’d jinxed myself. Typical. I quickly realized I wasn’t choking, but the pretzel had tried to slide down the tube to my lungs. My ridiculous coughing scene brought his eyes directly to me and in a flash he was at my side.

“Kara! Are you okay?!” Cristiano asked frantically.

I coughed a few more times before the pretzel safely made its way to my stomach. I nodded and took a big gulp of water from its glass. “Yeah, I think so,” I finally answered.

He took a relieved breath and smiled. “You had me worried there. What happened?”

“I guess my pretzel wanted to visit my lungs instead of my stomach.” I decided to swiftly change the subject. “What are you doing here?”

“Hold on, let me grab some food,” he said before heading over to the line. As he walked away I noticed he was wearing khaki pants and a black polo. Thank god I hadn’t worn the black shirt I’d originally picked out; we would have been matching.

He came back with some type of sub and a cup of grapes. He gave me another smile as he set his tray down across from me and took a seat.

“So, what are you doing here?” I asked again. I really hoped I didn’t sound rude; of all places I just never expected to run into him here.

“Hi Kara, it’s good seeing you too. I’m great, thanks,” he said with a wink instead.

I couldn’t help, but smile and roll my eyes. “Fine. Hey Cris, it’s nice seeing you. How are you?”

He took a bite of his sub. “Since I already answered that question, I’ll answer your other one: I’m here volunteering.”

“Really?” I heard myself say in disbelief before eating another pretzel. I don’t know why I found it so surprising; it just proved how little I really knew about him.

He nodded as he chewed. “I volunteer here whenever I have time. I’m actually an ambassador for Save the Children also.”

I nodded approvingly. “Wow, call me impressed. I wasn’t expecting that.”

“I’m not what most people expect,” he said cryptically before taking another bite. I was slowly learning that for myself.

“No you aren’t,” I said more to myself than to him.

“So about that second date…” he started with a smirk on his face.

I laughed. “There never was a first one,” I reminded him.

“Keep telling yourself that. Now where was I…” he paused and tapped his chin with his index finger. “Oh right, when are you going to say yes to a second, oops I mean first, date with me?”

I shook my head and laughed. “I don’t know; why should I?”

“Because I’d love to spend some time with you and get to know you,” he answered sincerely.

I stared at him a few moments before saying, “Today.”

“Today?” he questioned.

Now it was my turn to smirk. “Today is when I’m going to say yes to going on a date with you.”

He smiled almost shyly. My mind instantly said “Cristiano” and “shy” didn’t go together, but my eyes really disagreed. “Perfecto.”

I took a piece of paper out of my purse and scribbled my number on it for him. I stood up and grabbed my now almost empty tray.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a little girl waiting for me to bring her cake.”

Inverse Equations (Chapter 6)

I didn’t end up falling asleep until well past midnight. I just couldn’t turn my brain off no matter how tired I was. Instead of sleeping my mind was glue to Cristiano and our date. I felt like I was thirteen again and had gone on my first date. I felt terribly for how much I’d misjudged him! I was actually thankful for how annoyingly persistent he was. Well it was annoying only have the time; the other half of the time I couldn’t help but admire how driven he was.

My last thought before drifting into sleep was the way his lips felt on mine.


After sleeping in to noon, god it felt great to sleep for so long, I pulled myself out of bed and had breakfast. I had a class to teach at two, so I decided read a little before getting ready. I considered calling Cristiano first, but I was still groggy so I didn’t want to call and end up saying something stupid. He could wait anyways.

I usually got to the studio at least twenty minutes before class started so after about an hour reading I set my book down and got ready. In no time at all I had my hair up, tights on, and my duffle bag packed with a change of clothes. I grabbed my water bottle and an apple before heading out the door.

Today I’d gotten here thirty minutes early. I used some of the time to finish my apple and stretch my limbs. My body still felt like it’d just been woken up.  Even after stretching I still had fifteen minutes to kill, so I finally gave Cris a call.

He picked up after only two rings. “Hello Kara, I wasn’t sure that I’d hear from you.”

“Hey, I always keep my word!” I defended.

He laughed. “Kara, I don’t doubt your word. Someone hasn’t heard of a joke.”

I started pacing across the floor. I hated staying still when I was on the phone. “I have heard of a joke, thank you, but that just wasn’t a very good one.”

“Ouch, that hurt!” he teased.  “So what are you up to?”

I picked up my bag and moved it to the other side of the room so it wouldn’t be in the way later. “Just waiting for my students to start getting here; I have two classes until four.”

“And after that?” he asked.

I shrugged. “Probably head back home to be lazy. You know, lots of fun,” I joked.

“That sounds exhilarating,” did he really just say exhilarating? “, but doesn’t seeing a movie with me sound like more fun?”

“Maybe a little more fun,” I admitted.

He laughed.  He had such a deep laugh. “How about I pick you up after you’re finished?”

“All right I guessI can do that.” I paused as the first of my little ballerinas clad in black and pink tights and high buns entered the studio. “I’ve got to go, so I’ll text to the address. See you!”


Class was running a little late; I didn’t even have to look at the clock to know. So when I called class to a close, I wasn’t surprised to see Cristiano chatting in Nagore in the hallway. I held the door open as all the little girls scurried by to their waiting parents. Nagore knowingly winked at me and I rolled my eyes at her. Then she and Ane waved to me as they turned to go to their car.

With their departure, Cristiano turned his attention to me and gave me one of his dazzling smiles.  When the last child left the room he approached me and gave me a kiss on the cheek. Then I remembered I was in only tights and instantly became self-conscious. Anyone but him and I would have been fine. What was he doing to me?

I ushered him inside and went to grab my bag. “I’ve just got to go change and I’ll be ready, okay?” I said as I walked back towards him.

He shrugged his shoulders and said, “You don’t have to; the tights are quite,” he smirked, “flattering.”

I lightly pushed his shoulder as I passed him. “Thank you, but I’m going to change anyway. Just wait in here.”

He nodded his reply, so I dashed out of the room and into the hall bathroom. I was thanking myself for actually packing an outfit instead of my usual throw-on-a-sweater-and-shorts. After a little maneuvering I got my tights off and slipped on my pair of black skinny jeans. I threw my loose lavender tank top over my head while I slid my feet into a pair of leather sandals. As I came out of the stall I slung my duffle bag over my shoulder and worked on getting my hair down. Once I’d finished I put on some tinted lip balm and was out the door again.

“Okay now I’m ready,” I said as I walked back into the studio. I was semi-hoping to find him doing something embarrassing; alas I didn’t. He stood up from his seat and made his way across the room. He exuded confidence by simply by the way he walked. He was dressed in a pair of jeans and polo shirt; I couldn’t imagine how he’d look walking like that in a tuxe. I don’t think any woman would be able to resist that. Thankfully I’d mostly gotten over being intimidated by him. Mostly.

“Great. Well now that the kids are gone,” and with that his left hand grasped the back of my neck and brought my lips to his while his other arm snaked around my waist. I instantly sank into him and wrapped my arms around his neck. I willingly opened my mouth to his and he eagerly took my invitation. Damn he knew how to kiss. ‘Probably from lots of experience’ the part of my brain that was still leery of Cristiano said. I stomped it out just as quickly as it appeared.

Grudgingly I broke away after who knows how long. I think I would have been happy to say forget the movie and stay like that the rest of the day and evening. Looking at Cristiano’s expression told me clearly enough that he felt the same. But, of course, the building had to close so that wasn’t possible.

“I think we’re ready now,” I impishly said before pressing another quick kiss to his lips and taking his hand to leave.


We ended up watching some comedy movie either of us had ever heard of beforehand. There was another Nicolas Sparks’ movie out, which I immediately refused to see because a. I knew I would have cried b. I didn’t want Cristiano to see me cry and c. ‘romantic’ movies on dates were really cliché. Also who doesn’t like to laugh? Which we did a lot of.

As we left the theater, I squinted against the sunlight and waited for my eyes to adjust. I fixed my purse strap, I’d left my duffle bag in my car, and turned to face Cris, who was gazing at me with an expression I couldn’t read.

But just like that, and before I could ask, the look was gone. “What do you want to do now?” he asked with a crooked smile.

“How about we just walk for a bit?” I suggested. It was only seven, so there’d be at least another hour of sunshine.

“All right,” he replied while taking my hand in his.

We started towards out right and walked in comfortable silence for a few minutes. There was a surprisingly small amount of people on the streets, though we did get stopped by a young boy asking for Cristiano’s autograph. It was hard remembering he was a world famous football player; he was just so normal, for lack of a better word. Maybe a little overly confident, but weren’t most guys like that?

“So how was your day?” I asked after we pasted another block.

Apparently that was a funny question because he laughed. “Good, generally uneventful. Just had training and then took my son to the park.”

I smiled at the image of him and a mini version of him at the park playing on the swings. “How old is he?”

His expression softened. “He’ll be four in exactly two months.”

“And he’s named after you, right?” Of course he was, but I wasn’t going to admit I already knew that so I might as well play dumb.

I think he saw right through me, but decided to amuse me anyways. “Yes he is. I usually just call him Junior though.” He paused and added, “You’d like him; he can make anyone fall under his spell.”

“Like you can?” I said before I could stop myself.

He laughed and shook his head. “He’s much better than I am.”

I playfully nudged him in the side of his stomach. “Aw! Who would have thought Cristiano Ronaldo was such a softie!”

He rolled his eyes, but he didn’t hide his smile. Before he could reply, a gelato parlor caught my eye and I was saying, “Hey, let’s get some gelato!”

I was already steering us towards the door before he replied. Inside, I kept my hand in Cristiano’s and swiftly went to look at all of their flavors, bringing him with me.

After a few minutes I asked, “So what flavor are you getting?”

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to my bare shoulder, sending shivers down my spine, before he rested his head there. “I’m thinking a scoop of chocolate and a scoop of caramel cappuccino. You?”

“Change caramel cappuccino to mint chocolate chip and you have a deal,” I answered. Something about him brought out the jokester, playful side of me.

“I’ll order and you get us a table, deal?” he said as he stood up straight again.

I turned around to face him. “At least let me pay; you already bought the movie tickets.”

He quickly kissed my lips. “Not happening. Now get us a table before they’re all taken.”

I sighed and rolled my eyes. There were a total of ten people in the room, counting two employees and both of us. I didn’t think we would have a problem getting a table. I picked a lone table by the window and sat at the chair facing the door.

Cris broke my little trance of staring off into space by sitting across from me and placing my gelato on the table. Oh my god, it looked so good. Gelato/ice cream was my guilty pleasure. I think I had three different flavors in the freezer back home.

“Thank you. Again,” I said emphasizing the ‘again’.

He took a bit of his desert and smiled. “You’re welcome. Again.” He mirrored my emphasizing of the ‘again’ and took another bite.

“So what do you do when you’re not dancing?” he asked after another comfortable silence of eating. The gelato tasted better than it looked. I didn’t know how that could be possible.

I shrugged my shoulders. “Read, garden, draw, and occasionally write. I’m pretty boring.” I shrugged my shoulders again and took another bite.

He laughed. “I don’t think you’re boring Kara. What do you occasionally write?”

I bit my lip. “Sometimes I’ll do some freelance work. It’s fun, plus who doesn’t like extra money? And I’ve written a few short stories…”

He put his spoon in his now empty bowl. I still had a few bites left in mine. “Really? Do you let people read them? The stories I mean,” he asked, genuinely interested.

“Not really, but I guess I can make an exception.”

He held up his hands apologetically. “If you don’t want me to it’s…”

I cut him off. “No, it’s fine. If you really want to read them, you can.” I’d only ever shown my work to a few friends and my mom, so I almost couldn’t believe I’d agreed to let him read them. How was he getting under my skin so easily… and quickly? I’d never even let my father read my stories.

His answering smile was like a child getting exactly what they asked for on Christmas. “How about Thursday? Is that good for you?”

I nodded and set my spoon down. “Yeah, Thursday is good.”

Cristiano stood up and held his hand out to me. “C’mon, let’s get out of here.”

Butterflies fluttered in my chest as he looked down at me and again I was asking myself how he’d gotten to me so quickly. I mentally crossed my fingers that it wouldn’t come back and bite me.