𝕊𝕎𝔼𝔼𝕋ℍ𝔼𝔸ℝ𝕋 | B.L & S.M

24 | S.M

PROMPT: Random things Stu would say or do.

(PART 1)

🔪 🩸⛓️🪓💀🍷👻 ☎️🚬❤️‍🩹🃏🥀🕯️

The hallway buzzed with the usual post-lunch chatter, students loitering by lockers and shuffling to their next classes. Stu Macher leaned against the wall, arms crossed casually, his signature grin stretched wide as he watched you approach.

You could spot that mischievous glint in his eyes from a mile away—always up to something, never a dull moment with him.

You tried to walk past him, ignoring the way your heart picked up speed just from being near him, but he was quicker, sliding in front of you and blocking your way.

"Whoa there, speedy," he said, stepping into your path with that lopsided grin that always spelled trouble. "Where do you think you're going?"

You rolled your eyes, but there was no denying the smirk tugging at your lips. "Stu, I have class. And I'm already late thanks to a certain somebody."

He leaned in, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Oh, come on, it's just biology. You know you don't need to go to learn about life's mysteries. I can teach you everything you need to know."

You shoved his shoulder playfully, trying to ignore the warmth of his touch lingering on your skin. "Right, because you're so wise."

He grinned wider, undeterred. "I'll have you know I'm an expert in... a lot of things." He gave you a look, his gaze flickering to your hands before returning to your eyes. "Actually, speaking of science—don't you think we should compare hands?"

You blinked, caught off guard. "What? Compare hands? What are you even talking about?"

He shrugged, holding up his own hand and giving it a dramatic look-over. "It's for science, obviously," he said, barely keeping a straight face. "A crucial experiment. Gotta know if our hands match up, you know?"

You laughed, unable to resist his ridiculous logic. "That makes no sense. And how is that even science?"

He waggled his eyebrows, stepping closer so there was barely any space between you. "Doesn't have to make sense. Besides," he added with a playful smirk, "it's not like we haven't done anything worse."

The implication hung in the air, thick and teasing, making your cheeks flush. He was always bringing up those little moments—times when you both crossed lines, testing boundaries without really saying it.

It was like a game, one that left you second-guessing if there was something more than friendship between the two of you.

"Fine," you said, playing along, mostly because you could never resist his antics. You held up your hand, rolling your eyes dramatically. "Let's compare hands. For science."

Stu's face lit up with triumph as he held his hand up to meet yours, his palm pressing against yours.

His fingers were longer, the roughness of his skin contrasting against yours. You swallowed, suddenly hyper-aware of the way his hand felt, warm and solid, grounding you in a way you hadn't expected.

"Hmm," he mused, as if deep in thought. "Interesting results."

"Oh, yeah?" You raised an eyebrow, trying to keep the fluttering in your stomach at bay. "And what's the scientific conclusion?"