#there was an exam and i needed to study hard for it

[deansbeer]

★ in his arms, the world fades // clark kent.

synopsis. feeling unwell and overwhelmed, you seek comfort in clark's arms. his warmth, soothing touch, and sweet words make the ache in your stomach—and your heart—feel bearable.

warning(s). fluff | comfort | f!reader | s1!clark | reader feels unwell stomach aches | nausea | difficulty eating | mild angst | distressing moments | academic stress | brief mentions of exams | studying | cuddling | kisses | superman references.

kari yaps. last night, i had horrible stomach pains and wrote this <333 + a lil disclaimer! i'm on ep 5 of smallville (the ads on hulu r mad annoying) so i only know a little about clark. but don't worry i will get to know all ab pookie soon !!! trust <33

it starts with the ache. sharp and twisting, like someone's wringing your stomach out like a wet rag. it's been days now—days of barely keeping food down, of your appetite wavering between nothing and everything, only for nausea to win every time. eating has become a battle, and losing feels inevitable. but you haven't told anyone, not really. maybe it's pride. maybe it's not wanting to worry anyone. maybe you're just hoping it'll go away on its own.

still, it lingers, and today's no different. you pull up to the kent farm, the gravel crunching under your tires, the sight of the red barn and yellow farmhouse somehow grounding you. you're supposed to be here to study. algebra—not exactly something you're excited about, but clark's always been good at making the hard stuff easier. it's one of the many things you love about him: his patience, his steadiness, the way he seems to know when you need a little extra reassurance. and maybe you need that today more than ever.

"hey, pretty girl," clark greets you at the door, his smile soft and familiar, like it's meant just for you. "you okay? you look…" he trails off, squinting at you in that way he does when he's trying to figure you out. "…tired."

you force a smile, shrugging it off. "just didn't sleep much last night."

it's not a lie, exactly. the ache had kept you up most of the night, twisting and turning beneath the covers, unable to find a position that didn't make it worse. but clark doesn't need to know that. not right now.

he nods, stepping aside to let you in. "i made us some lemonade," he says as you follow him up the stairs to his room. "my mom said it's good for focus or something. i don't know, but it tastes good."

you hum in response, though the thought of drinking anything right now makes your stomach churn. you'll figure out a way to avoid it later.

when you get to his room, it's the same as always—neat but lived-in, the bed made but the desk cluttered with papers and books, a small stack of cds next to his stereo. it smells faintly of pine and something distinctly clark, like sun-warmed hay and fresh laundry. it's comforting in a way you didn't realize you needed.

you settle on the floor with him, textbooks and notebooks spread out between you. he's already flipping through his algebra book, pen tapping idly against his knee as he scans the pages.

"okay," he says, glancing at you with a smile. "where should we start? graphing inequalities or quadratic equations?"

you groan, letting your head fall back against the bed. "do we have to start?"

he chuckles. "the exam's next week. i don't think mr. phillips is gonna let us wing it."

"worth a shot," you mutter, but you sit up anyway, flipping open your notebook to a blank page. you try to focus, really, but the ache is still there, dull and persistent, and it's hard to think about numbers and graphs when all you want to do is curl up in a ball and sleep.

half an hour in, you're staring at your notebook, pen tapping against the paper. clark's voice is distant as he explains something about parabolas, the words blurring together in your head. you're not even sure when you stopped listening. all you know is that your chest feels tight, your stomach twists again, and suddenly, you just can't anymore.

"hey," clark says, his voice soft with concern. "what's wrong?"

you don't answer, don't even look at him. instead, you set your notebook aside, shifting closer to him until you're wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face in the crook of it. his skin is warm against your cheek, the faint scent of his cologne lingering there. you don't say anything, and neither does he, not at first. he just sits there, still and quiet, letting you hold on like he's been expecting this all along.

then, slowly, he moves. his arms come around you, strong and steady, and he shifts your things aside before effortlessly pulling you up with him onto the bed. his back hits the mattress, and you're lying on top of him, your head resting against his chest. his hands find your back, warm and soothing as they rub up and down in slow, gentle strokes.

you close your eyes, letting out a shaky breath. his touch is enough to warm you, enough to quiet the ache in your stomach, at least for now. you don't know how he does it—how he makes everything feel a little less heavy just by being there.

your hands move to rest on his collarbone, fingers brushing against the fabric of his t-shirt. the side of your head presses against his chest, and you can feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear. it's grounding in a way you didn't know you needed.

he doesn't say anything at first, just keeps rubbing your back, his touch slow and deliberate, like he knows exactly how to calm you down. but then he starts murmuring soft, sweet things in your ear, his voice low and soothing.

"you're okay," he says, his lips brushing against the top of your head. "whatever it is, you're okay. i've got you."

his hand moves to rest on the side of your head, his thumb tracing gentle circles against your hair. he presses another kiss to your temple, then another, each one softer than the last.

"you don't have to say anything," he whispers. "just let me hold you."

and you do. you let yourself relax against him, let yourself melt into his warmth. his chest rises and falls beneath you, steady and strong, and you match your breathing to his without even realizing it. the ache in your stomach is still there, but it feels distant now, muted by the way his hands move against your back, by the way his voice wraps around you like a blanket.

"you know," he starts after a while, his voice still soft, "i'm not great at algebra either. but i'm pretty sure lying here with you is a way better use of my time."

you let out a quiet laugh, your breath fanning against his chest. "you're supposed to be the responsible one."

"yeah, well," he murmurs, his fingers threading through your hair, "even superheroes need a break sometimes."

you tilt your head to look up at him, catching the small smile playing on his lips. "superhero, huh?"

"what? you didn't know?" his grin widens, teasing. "i'm kind of a big deal."

you roll your eyes, but there's no real bite to it. "you're ridiculous."

"maybe," he says, pressing another kiss to your forehead. "but i made you laugh, didn't i?"

you hum in response, letting your head fall back against his chest. the silence that follows is comfortable, the kind that wraps around you like a warm blanket. his hand moves back to your back, tracing slow, lazy patterns against your spine.

"i mean it, though," he says after a while, his voice quieter now. "whatever's going on, you don't have to go through it alone. you can tell me."

"i know," you whisper, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. "i just… i don't know. i've been feeling off lately. stomach stuff. it's probably nothing."

he frowns, his hand pausing mid-stroke. "how long?"

"a few days," you admit. "it's not a big deal. it'll pass."

"you don't know that," he says gently. "have you eaten today?"

you hesitate, and that's enough of an answer for him. he sighs, his hand resuming its slow movements against your back.

"you're stubborn, you know that?" he murmurs, but there's no heat behind it. just concern, soft and steady, like everything else about him.

"takes one to know one," you shoot back, your voice muffled against his chest.

he chuckles, the sound rumbling beneath you. "fair enough. but promise me you'll let me know if it gets worse, okay?"

"okay," you say, and you mean it. because if anyone can make you feel like everything's going to be okay, it's clark.

you stay like that for a while longer, wrapped up in each other, the rest of the world fading away. the algebra books are forgotten, but neither of you seems to care. right now, this is enough. he's enough.

and for the first time in days, the ache in your stomach feels bearable.

⎯⎯ SPECIAL TAGS. @titsout4jackles @floralscented @aileenunfiltered @st4rfckerz @jasvtsc . . . ୨୧

[stvrnioloslvt]

❛❛ ⛸️ + 🏒 ❞

fuck you, christopher sturniolo

✎ t.w.: sexual tension!

you sighed, throwing your books in your bag. what was the point of studying until you felt physically nauseous if the maximum you could get was always a C?

you didn't understand: you did everything you could think of to memorise and understand the stuff you had to study for your exams, yet it wasn't enough. it never was.

"hey! how..." your roommate turned to face you with a big smile on her face, holding proudly her exam sheet with a big red A written on top of it. her smile faded as soon as she saw your disappointed expression, her eyes falling to the piece of paper you had abandoned carelessly on your desk. "oh, baby..." she cooes, her hand rubbing comfortingly your arm. "it's fine, next time it'll go better, yeah?"

you shake your head, the weight of disappointment sitting heavily on your stomach. you sighed before saying, "i need to get some air. i'll see you at the rink, yeah?"

cherry sighed, but she nodded nevertheless. she whispered a soft "okay," then let go of your arm as you got up and left the room.

the halls were, as always, crowded as fuck. normally it wouldn't bother you one bit, but today...yeah, today you were pissed, to say the least. you just couldn't help it, negativity radiating from every cell of your body.

your original plan of going outside to cool your brain quickly changed, your feet bringing you elsewhere, completely out of your jurisdiction. and before you knew it, you stood at the perimeter of the ice rink, watching as a bunch of hockey players glided left and right across the arena.

your eyes caught the jersey of a man sliding right in front of you, the name "STURNIOLO", the number 3 standing proudly below it.

"yo, ice baby" chris took off his helmet right as the coach blew in the whistle, signaling the end of the practice. your friend shook his head left and right, droplets of sweat flying around. you mentally thanked the presence of the thick plastic walls between you two. chris got out of the rink, stomping his feet to reach you without losing balance.

he sat on the bench near you, putting the helmet down. "so? what are you doing here? you don't have lesson for another hour and a half."

you shrugged, sitting down beside him. "just had to get some fresh air."

chris eyed you, analyzing your face. he clearly didn't buy your lie, and he was determined to find out what was going on in your mind. "yeah, no kid, spill the truth or something cause i'm not buying your bullshit."

you groaned annoyed, well aware that he wasn't going to let it go until he had an answer. sighing, you got up, walking back and forth while explaining to him how frustrated you were at yourself cause no matter how hard you studied, nothing seemed to work and you felt like you were just loosing time.

chris didn't speak, letting you ramble on and on about your problem, eventually nodding to signal that he was, in fact, listening. you took a big breath once you finished talking, feeling definitely better. maybe cherry was right when she told you that speaking does, indeed, help.

"you do know that matt took the same exam, right?"

taken aback by his question, you didn't answer him: did he? he probably took it the year before, cause there was no way you never noticed him. you shook your head, sitting down in front of your friend.

he hummed, shrugging before casually saying "he did. passed with a straight A, maybe he can help you."

"i..."

"it's fine, really. i'll talk to him at dinner, yeah? don't worry, baby, you're gonna ace it." and just like that, he got up from the bench, grabbing his helmet before ruffling your hair and heading outside.

"hey! aren't you gonna shower or something?" you called out, watching confused as chris turned around briefly, exclaiming "water's out!" before closing the door behind him.

you furrowed your brows, clearly not expecting it. you decided to check for yourself, walking towards the door that lead to the locker room.

as you entered the room, you didn't notice the lonely gym bag hiding behind the door, its content spilling from the open zipper. you kept walking towards the showers, wanting to check the water pressure from one of the sinks there.

as you opened the door, steam engulfed you whole, blocking your view. from one of the open showers emerged matt, wrapped in a white towel. you stood frozen at the door, not knowing what to do, but with one thought in mind: fuck you, christopher sturniolo.

right as you turned around to run away from there, matt's eyes caught yours, freezing you on the spot. you couldn't help but admire the way drops of water dripped from his long hair, falling on his face and neck, running down to his exposed torso. and god, was he well sculpted. your mouth dried at the sight, your heart drumming in your ribcage. your hands itched with the want–no, the need– to touch him, to explore his body with your fingers, drawing every crevice and dip and curve of his abs.

"jesus," you whispered softly, almost inaudible, catching yourself in the act and hoping he didn't hear anything. luckily for you, he didn't. and if he did, he acted like he didn't.

he cleared his throat, smirking as your eyes snapped back to his face. "anything you like, baby?" he asked, stepping closer to you to grab another smaller towel he had placed on the sink earlier. he ran said towel through his hair, trying to absorbe as much water as possible, all while not breaking eye contact. for the first time, you asked yourself if he called you by your name or if he meant it as a pet name. either way, you didn't like how much it affected you.

"i- i'm sorry i didn't know you were here," you stuttered embarrassed, trying to regain some decency back.

he bit back a smile, genuinely amused by the situation. "clearly," he murmured, watching you struggle to not let your eyes fall back on his body. he decided to pull a little trick on you, glancing down quickly at his body knowing that the immediate reaction he would get would be a mirror of his own act. and, indeed, your eyes travelled down his body instinctively, a natural reflex of your own body betraying you. 

you mentally cursed yourself, realising too late what had just happened. however, you couldn’t help but stare, noticing only now the tent hiding beneath his towel. you didn’t know if it was the steam, matt’s presence or your own arousal, but your mind began fogging like crazy, leaving you dizzy and unstable on your legs. matt took a couple steps towards you, your feet moving backwards until your back hit the cold tile wall of the shower room, effectively trapping you.

you could feel the heat radiating from his body clouding your senses, turning your brain in mush.  

“matt-” you gasped, his blue eyes burning holes into your skin from the intensity of his gaze. he slowly raised his hand, caressing so delicately your cheek the same way you would touch a ceramic doll, delicate and careful in fear it might break. you closed your eyes at the contact, so delicate and warm yet so wrong and rushed. you swallowed hard before managing to croak out a soft “what are you…”

at the sound of your voice matt seemed to snap back to reality, his hand dropping by his side. the bubble of tension suddenly bursted, bringing you both back to reality, cold chills running through your arms. “shit, i-” he sighed, running a hand on his face, “you should probably go.”

you stood there paralyzed for a couple more seconds, watching as he turned around and walked away. you nodded slowly to no one in particular before running through the door, leaving the locker room. as soon as the chilled air of the halls hit your face you started breathing again, releasing a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

and as you walked towards your room, only one image crossed your mind, repeating on loop: matt sturniolo half naked in front of you, aching to touch you.

© stvrnioloslvt

𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐏𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐃/𝐎𝐑 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐌𝐘 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊. 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐎 𝐈𝐒 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐀𝐒 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓

ও a.n: hi guys, i'm so sorry i haven't posted in a while, i have a shit ton of exams to take and way too little time to write :(

ও anyway, hope you liked the little sexual tension between those two, i sure has hell had fun writing it! as always, you're more than welcome in my comments/inbox to ask questions, requests, etc.

ও also... look how cute this little thing is! it's a fennec fox, and i feel like it embodies 100% baby's personality, cute as fuck but also wild and not too keen on physical contact. in love with it, honestly.

love you all, bree ☾

icy taglist: @shadowthesim @sturnioloszn @sofieeeeex @m4ttg1rl @marrykisskilled @thecrawlys @x0x0bunny @izzylovesmatt @sturniolosweets @sturnslutz @user1smvtysturniolo @gabrielaperez11

[faithshouseofchaos]

Study session||Charles Leclerc xGender neutral!adhd!reader

Summary — after hours of trying to study and failing Charles swoops in and helps you get through it.

Word count—713

A/n I used both fem!reader male!reader and gn!reader tags

You sat at your desk, staring blankly at the pages of your textbook. Your notes were scattered in disorganized piles, highlighters of every color rolling around your workspace, but none of it was helping. you flipped the same page for the third time, but the words swam before your eyes, refusing to sink in. Your leg bounces uncontrollably under the desk, and your fingers tapped against the edge of the chair as your mind wandered.

What was I even trying to study again?

you reached for your phone out of habit, scrolling through social media for a brief escape. The timer she’d set to keep you on track went off, startling you, and you groaned in frustration. Fifteen minutes gone, and you’ve done absolutely nothing.

Charles walked in just as you buried your face in your hands, muttering under your breath. He stopped in his tracks, taking in the scene—the mess of papers, your slumped posture, and the tension radiating off you. He set his water bottle down on the counter and approached you cautiously, his footsteps soft against the floor.

“Amour,” he said gently, his voice full of concern. “What’s going on?”

you didn't lift your head. “I can’t do this, Charles. I’ve been sitting here for hours, and I’ve made zero progress. My brain just doesn’t work like this.”

He crouched beside your chair, tilting his head to meet your eyes. “What do you mean?”

Y/N sighed, dropping your hands to your lap. “I can’t stay focused. I read the same thing over and over, and it still doesn’t stick. Then I get frustrated, and I just give up. It’s like my brain wants to do anything but study. And the exam is so close… I’m panicking.”

Charles frowned, his heart aching for you. He hated seeing you so stressed, especially when he knew how hard you were trying. “Okay,” he said after a moment, his tone calm and steady. “Let’s take a breath. First, you’re not stupid, and you’re not hopeless. You just need a different way to study. I think I can help.”

you looked at him skeptically. “You? You want to help me study?”

“Yes,” he said with a confident smile. “I’m good under pressure, remember? And I have a few tricks up my sleeve.”

Before you could protest, Charles stood up and started tidying your desk, stacking your notes into neat piles and pushing the random highlighters aside. Then, he grabbed a set of flashcards from your stack of materials and pulled your chair closer to the desk so you faced him.

“Alright, that’s the plan,” he said, sitting down across from you. “We’re going to break this down into small chunks. You answer five questions, and then we take a two-minute break. During the break, you can ask me anything you want—about racing, my worst crashes, my favorite tracks. Whatever keeps you motivated. Deal?”

Y/N hesitated, your fingers twisting together nervously. “I don’t know, Charles. What if I still can’t focus?”

He reached out, taking your hand in his and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Then we’ll find another way. But we’ll do it together. You’re not alone in this, Y/N.”

Your chest tightened at his words, but this time it wasn’t from anxiety. you nodded slowly. “Okay. Let’s try it.”

They started with the flashcards, and true to his word, Charles kept the energy light and encouraging. When you struggled to answer a question, he didn’t let you spiral into frustration. Instead, he’d rephrase it, guiding you to the answer without making you feel overwhelmed.

“See? You knew that one,” he said with a proud smile when you got the third question right.

“Only because you practically spoon-fed me the answer,” youshot back with a teasing smile.

“Details,” he said with a playful shrug. “The important thing is that you’re learning.”

When they reached the end of the first set, he held up his hands. “Break time! Alright, your turn. Ask me anything.”

Y/N leaned back in your chair, grinning for the first time that day. “Okay, fine. What’s the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to you during a race?”

Charles groaned dramatically, covering his face with his hands. “Ah, that’s not fair! You know my ego will never recover.”

[nanthegirl]

The past week

• Christmas Day was good. I ate so much good food and saw some of my friends. I also got to take leftovers.

• The main break is over but my sister is here and I don’t see any studying getting done. She’s leaving on the 5th and if I don’t study at all until then it’ll be tough. I find it hard to do my regularly scheduled stuff when there’s a huge change in my space, like an entire person constantly in my room haha.

[bring-cringe-back]

Okay I might just be reading too much into this. But while I was watching the episode *cough cough* procrastinating *cough cough I realised that they don't show how the Doctor and Ruby got there.

And I know that it's probably just meant to be vaguely like 'they just went for fun'.

BUT this is the third episode in a row where we haven't seen them arrive. And for 73 yards it was clearly a doctor who episode when it started but it immediately gets rid of the doctor. ( I know that for 73 yards and for dot and bubble it was because Ncuti Gatwa was filming other stuff but let me cook) In Dot and Bubble you could effectively be forgiven for assuming that it was a random Black Mirror episode or something similar until the Doctor turns up, and tbh if you were just flicking through channels and haven't been watching Doctor Who you could probably basically not know for much longer. In Rogue they are just there, except for the title screen (the same for dot and bubble) you could basically watch it as a Bridgerton episode until the Chuldur turn up.

(And there's whole other rant about how the Chuldur fits into the theory about this basically being a TV show within a TV show, I don't know the name for this theory)

But anyway these episodes are increasingly separated from the Doctor and Ruby as plot points particularly in the beginning of episodes. They are more and more like an excuse to tell the story or explore the topic that the writers want to explore. Which isn't totally different from the occasional episode of previous series, but this is a lot more in my memory at least from previous series. So it feels a lot like they are skimming over the more sci-fi doctor who elements. Which fits in in my mind to the idea that the 'One who waits' is a representation of story telling. I've seen theories that it's Ruby but she doesn't know it which makes sense, I think it would also make sense for it to be her parent(s) who left her, or alternatively just it's own thing all together. But it feels very like that bit where Amy is living a life and starts to realise it's all fake.

The narrowing down of these episodes into not showing them arriving, and at least in Rogue - I can't remember in the others - not showing them leaving the story, feels very different.

It feels more and more like story telling. They have covered fairy tales, Period pieces/Romance, Dystopia, War/SciFi, Musicals, Political Drama. They are also showing the doctor playing his role, something that we see companions doing often enough but we seldom see the doctor doing it.

In Space Babies he is scared of a new creature. In the Devil's Code he sings a song that makes little sense in the story, he doesn't question the road making noise. In Boom he's more himself but it's also the closes to his 'normal' environment. In 73 Yards they just fully remove him from the story, which I realise was done for filming requirements but would have been so interesting to see the doctor in a Political drama. In Dot and Bubble he plays the role of the outsider bringing information to those living under a Dystopia, how is he UNABLE to access the inside, sure he plays a role that's fairly similar to himself but Doctor Who is really Dystopian.

In Rogue he is becoming more and more his role, he is playing the role of a sort of Elizabeth Bennet style character, a strong romantic interest for the brooding man. Which is great, he makes fun of the genre, but he is hyper aware of the genre and still ends up in its pitfalls. He trusts a man so quickly he ends up handing over his sonic, he gets proposed to and basically immediately accepts. Now I am really hoping that Rogue gets to stay around I really liked him as a character, regardless of which theory of his identity if any are true. But the Doctors reaction to him is still a little out of character, he is feeling what he is SUPPOSED to feel and he is acting how he is SUPPOSED to act.

It just feels to me like an increasing number of these episodes are more and more story like and more and more separated from the more Doctor Who elements. And the lack of an introduction of how they get there, and the lack of them leaving in the TARDIS is so unusual to me and stands out to my brain so much.

It feels like they are removing elements that don't fit the genre. Anyway not sure if that makes any sense but I'm vibing with it.

[skunkes]

I thought my "struggling to get anything done until its very very late at night, and only for a few hours, after a full day of fatigue and laziness" behavior was a recent thing, in the wake of graduating and being unemployed and out of schooling, but its been at the very least 5 years because I made a comic about this when i was still IN college.

[unabletomakedecisions]

Just watched Black Friday by Starkid, and now I'm wondering which Fear this would be a manifestation of. (I think Extinction would probably be in there, but what else?)

Actually, what would *all* the starkid productions be?

Nerdy Prudes Must Die would have at least a bit of Hunt... The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals would have some Corruption...

[idontmindifuforgetme]

how do you study for such long hours? 12-16 hours? i tend to tire out after 8 hours.

bc if i'm not top of the class then what's the point. duhh

[melit0n]

.

[kyouka-supremacy]

---

[faaun]

idk how to live so im going to talk to myself out loud until i do

[purecommemasolitude]

actually if i fail this exam in two days it will be an epic and subtle sodapop curtis reference and not an academic failure at all. the [redacted] markers simply do not understand my outsiders swag

[lion-buddy]

while I’m very excited that I’m able to be happy while drawing again it’s at the expense of getting literally nothing else done. which is a problem.

[pomodoriyum]

yay i got an A on that chem exam i was really worried about!!!!!

[supersymmetries]

finals are coming. i do not understand quantum numbers. i do not understand undetermined coefficients. matt bellamy save me. dom howard save me. chris wolstenholme save me.

[todayisafridaynight]

cant stress how obsessed i am with yamaguchis shirt