#why are math class doodles the best

[bluesiren111]

Abaddon doodles cuz I need more

[alaskan-wallflower]

instead of paying attention in math i doodled brodie and baylie

my bad for blurry pics lol—not their final designs but i’m working on it :)

[luna-azzurra]

Friends to Lovers (School Edition) Prompts

The Best Friend Who Knows Too Much ╰ They’ve been friends since primary school. They’ve seen each other in braces, bad haircuts, and full-on emotional breakdowns over math tests. Now they’re teenagers. And things are… shifting. Lingering looks. Accidental touches. One of them falls first. The other realizes way too late.

Study Buddies and Something More ╰ They’ve always studied together. Always. Every test, every exam season, every quiet library moment. But this time, they’re sitting a little closer. Laughing a little longer. And when one of them falls asleep mid-flashcard session, the other catches themselves staring way too long.

“Fake Dating” for Prom... but Make It Personal ╰ They agree to fake date to make someone else jealous (obviously). They already act couple-y, so it’s no big deal. But after the third “pretend” hand-hold and one too many “fake” compliments, something real breaks through. And neither one knows how to put it back.

Late-Night Phone Calls & Secret Sharing ╰ It starts as a joke “Call me if you’re dying during the homework.” But then the calls keep happening. 1AM convos about dreams, fears, their futures. The line between “friend” and “something else” starts blurring somewhere between midnight and sunrise.

One-Bed Trope... But It’s a School Trip ╰ They get stuck sharing a room on a class trip (because of course they do). One bed. One shared blanket. And one realization that maybe this thing they’ve always had? It was never just friendship. Oops.

Locker Notes & Lingering Feelings ╰ They’ve always left each other dumb little notes in their lockers—jokes, doodles, inside references. But one day, one of them writes something real. And then pretends it was a joke. And the other one spends the whole day wondering if it meant more. (It did.)

The Protective Idiot ╰ He’s always looked out for her, scaring off bullies, sharing snacks, defending her in arguments. But lately, he’s not just protective, he’s possessive. And jealous. And confused. Because he doesn’t know when “you’re my best friend” turned into “you’re mine.”

The Moment They Realize Everyone Else Already Knows ╰ They’re best friends. Nothing more. Right? Right. Except literally everyone keeps asking when they’re finally going to get together. And they keep denying it… until one of them wonders why it stings every time the other one flirts with someone else.

The School Newspaper Love Confession (Oops) ╰ One writes an anonymous “love letter” for the Valentine’s edition of the school paper. It’s poetic. Personal. Honest. The other reads it. Knows immediately. Doesn’t say anything. Not yet. But their next conversation has a lot of weird, warm tension neither of them expected.

The Slow Burn to Absolute Devastation ╰ They’ve been friends forever. They almost kissed once. But they didn’t. Now one of them is dating someone else. The other one’s trying to be happy. But every moment together feels like a ghost of what could’ve been, until one of them breaks, and says, “It’s always been you.”

[katszumi]

Studying with bakugo is almost NEVER studying with bakugo. The mf can yell at you to pay attention all he wants but a few seconds of it and you’re already back to yapping about the latest drama. Drawing little doodles on your paper (and a few on his) while you tell him about how kuroiro finally confessed to Komori from class 1b, and although he doesn’t like to admit it he’s paying more attention to your yapping then his studying. (Your the only person who can do that)

i hope i did your ask justice😔 this is the first one i’ve done, but thank you sm for requesting. and gosh, i love silly highschool romance sm REQUEST MORE PLS

sorta linked to this but can def be read as a standalone

“did you hear about kuroiro’s confession today?” you asked. you were laid on bakugou’s room floor, your notebook wide open with a few math equations along with a dozen of doodles.

you just asked him another silly question, one of the countless ones that you’ve already made in a hour.

bakugou already knew that you were a sociable person from the way you find a new person to talk to everyday, but he didn’t expect you to be this talkative.

truth be told, you’ve talked more than you have actually studied. which was the main reason why you had come to his room at nearly eight o’clock at night, close to his bedtime.

he only accepted the late study session was because the other reason for you to come was so he could speak with you privately. this was the best way he could do it secretly without being found out.

bakugou looked up from his textbook, directly at you. “no. not that i even care about that stuff anyway.”

your chin rested in the palm of your hand, silently drumming your fingers against your cheek.

“it’s hilarious though, cmon!” you pleaded with a small smile on your face.

“we’re supposed to be studying, y/n. did you forget that you didn’t exactly ace that test?” he rhetorically asked.

you pursed your lips together in a thin line, looking away from bakugou and back onto your textbook. you were dumb enough to even think you could gossip with bakugou.

he offered to help you study, not to bond more as friends clearly.

you picked up your pencil and began to write the equation that was written in the hardbook next to you.

hearing that there was no response from you, bakugou internally began to slightly panic. it was never like you to just shut up so easily. he couldn’t help but come to the conclusion that he came off too rude.

it’s not that he didn’t want to hear you speak, he just didn’t want to make his crush on you so obvious. he was trying so hard to be his normal self which was much harder towards you than he thought.

bakugou placed his textbook down, leaning back into the palm of his hands behind him. “what did that extra do?”

almost immediately, you released the pencil that was in your hand and made eye contact with the ruby eyed male in front of you. a smile tugged on your lips, one that bakugou couldn’t help but think was so fuckin’ cute.

“he made her a bouquet of mushrooms, because you know, her whole mushroom quirk thing. he tried to give it to her discreetly but someone walked past and made it a whole big deal.” you described. “honestly, i feel bad cause i think they’re both kinda shy. they probably didn’t want that attention.”

bakugou unknowingly listened to every word of yours, feeling himself being drawn into you. what was it about your voice that made it so compelling for him?

if it were anyone else like stupid shitty hair or raccoon eyes, he’d shut it down immediately, not caring about a single word they had to say about it.

but, he found it a little more difficult than usual to refuse when it came to you.

he snickered. “public confession? what a romcom move of him.”

you looked back down, noticing bakugou’s blank paper. out of boredom, you grasped onto his notebook. you started to doodle on the small square in the upper left corner; a couple of hearts, stars, dots to make it less bland.

“i think it was sweet. it’s hard to confess already, but to do it in front of an audience? takes guts honestly.”

bakugou watched you draw on his paper. he felt a little jump in his heart, some part of him liking the fact that you took initiative to add your own touch to something of his.

something so stupid. so small. but he couldn’t help but feel a tad giddy.

bakugou sat upright, gulping nothing but his own saliva. “is that something you would like?”

at first, bakugou curses at himself. why would he ask something like that? something that could definitely give away his small crush on you. but he remained his same stone-cold look.

you looked up at bakugou, noticing his eyes softening slightly before returning to their original position.

you thought about it long before responding. “nah. don’t think that’s something i’d really prefer. i’d like a simple confession with just the two of us.” you described.

it seemed a little weird to you that you were casually speaking of your own relationship preference with bakugou, but you tried your hardest not to think too much about it.

you assumed he was only trying to make small talk.

“good.” again, with bakugou’s one worded response. even though he didn’t add more to his sentence, his eyes lingered with yours. as if he was deciding something or carefully analyzing you. but it was a different look. not a competitive, angry look. but rather a tender look. one you have never seen bakugou wear, ever.

suddenly, he looked away, back onto his textbook. you seemingly didn’t mind considering the small tingle you were receiving in your face.

bakugou looked over his shoulder, begging to anyone even the gods above to remove the deep-set blush that was occurring on his face.

the male cleared his throat. “alright, let’s fuckin’ study. gossipin’ and yappin’ won’t help you get a better damn test score.” he chose the defensive route to move on.

you silently agreed with a nod. but, your mind goes back to the thought that you successfully just gossiped with the katsuki bakugou. the one that’s listed to only care about being the number one hero.

you bit the inside of your cheek to hide a smile as you tapped your pencil against your notebook.

just now, a kaleidoscope of butterflies slipped through the cracks of your stone wall, entering your stomach, and began to harvest a life within that had bakugou’s name branded on it.

[sophiewritesworld]

ROLL FOR REDEMPTION - E.M.

SUMMARY: in which Eddie cuts you of his life, under his girlfriend’s influence, discarding mementos of your friendship. As you withdraw, becoming a shadow of yourself, Eddie feels trapped, clinging to a small reminder of you.

PAIRING: Eddie Munson x Female best friend

TWO : The Weight of Absence

The library at Hawkins High smells like old paper and dust, a quiet sanctuary where the world’s noise can’t reach you. You’ve claimed a corner table near the back, hidden behind stacks of encyclopedias no one ever touches. It’s your fortress now, a place where you can bury yourself in books and pretend the ache in your chest isn’t growing sharper every day. Your backpack slumps against the chair, heavy with textbooks you don’t need but carry anyway, as if their weight can anchor you when everything else feels like it’s slipping away.

It’s been a month since that night at the quarry, since Eddie looked at you with those guilty eyes and chose Tara over you. The memory replays like a broken cassette tape, stuck on a loop you can’t eject—his voice, low and cracked, saying, I need to put her first. You haven’t spoken to him since, haven’t seen him except in fleeting glimpses in the hallways, his arm around Tara, his laughter muffled by the crowd. Each sighting is a fresh wound, a reminder that the boy who once knew every corner of your soul now treats you like a stranger.

You avoid the cafeteria, the parking lot, the arcade—anywhere you might run into the Hellfire Club or the rest of Corroded Coffin. Gareth, Jeff, and Dustin used to be your people, your fellow outcasts who’d joke about your terrible dice rolls or beg you to come to their gigs to “keep Eddie’s ego in check.” But now, their faces are landmines. You can’t look at them without seeing Eddie, without hearing the questions they’d ask: Where’ve you been? Why aren’t you at Hellfire? What’s up with you and Eddie? You can’t face their pity or their confusion, so you retreat, pulling away like a tide receding from the shore.

In class, you’ve taken to sitting in the front row, right by the door. You keep your head down, your notebook open, scribbling notes you barely process. The moment the bell rings, you’re out the door before anyone can stop you, your sneakers squeaking on the linoleum as you make a beeline for the library or your car. You’ve perfected the art of disappearing, of making yourself small despite your body’s insistence on taking up space. Your curves, once a source of hard-won pride, feel like a burden now, a reason Tara saw you as a threat. You tug your oversized sweaters tighter, hiding yourself, as if you could shrink into someone who doesn’t hurt this much.

Your grades are slipping, not because you don’t understand the material, but because your mind is a fog of grief. You stare at equations in math class, but all you see is Eddie’s handwriting on the margins of your old D&D notes, doodling dragons and skulls next to your character stats. You read The Great Gatsby for English, but the words blur into memories of Eddie reading Tolkien aloud to you, his voice dramatic and teasing as he narrated Bilbo’s adventures. Everything reminds you of him, and it’s suffocating.

Your friends—well, the ones who aren’t tied to Eddie—notice the change. Robin tries to corner you after history class, her eyes soft with worry. “Hey, you okay? You’ve been, like, a ghost lately.” You force a smile, mumble something about being busy, and slip away before she can press further. Steve, who you used to joke with at the video store, catches you in the parking lot one day, his hands on his hips like he’s about to lecture you. “You’re dodging everyone, you know that, right? What’s going on?” You shrug, your throat tight, and mutter an excuse about needing to study. You can’t tell them the truth—that losing Eddie feels like losing a limb, that you’re terrified if you open your mouth, all that’ll come out is a scream.

Hellfire Club used to be your refuge, the one place where you could be yourself, rolling dice and laughing until your sides hurt. You were the cleric, the group’s healer, always saving their asses when Eddie’s campaigns got too brutal. Now, the thought of walking into that drama room, seeing Eddie at the head of the table with his DM screen and his wild grin, makes your stomach churn. You stopped showing up, letting your character fade into the background of their story, just like you’re fading from their lives.

On the other side of Hawkins High, Eddie’s dodging questions like he’s dodging arrows in one of his campaigns. You don’t see it, but you hear whispers of it through the grapevine—classmates who pass by the Hellfire table at lunch, friends of friends who catch snippets of conversation. Dustin’s the first to ask, his voice loud and earnest during a Hellfire session. “Where’s she at, Eddie? She hasn’t been to a meeting in weeks. Is she okay?” Eddie freezes, his dice clattering to the table. “She’s fine,” he says, too quick, his eyes fixed on his notes. “Just busy, you know. Let’s move on—Gareth, what’s your next move?” The group exchanges glances, but they don’t push. They know Eddie well enough to see the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers fidget with his rings when he’s uncomfortable.

At band practice, it’s the same story. Jeff strums a chord, then pauses, looking at Eddie as he tunes his guitar. “You talk to her lately? She’s not coming to the gig at the Hideout, is she?” Eddie’s strumming falters, a sour note ringing out. “Nah, man,” he says, his voice clipped. “She’s got stuff going on. Can we focus?” Gareth raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything, and the rehearsal stumbles on, the air thick with unspoken questions.

Tara’s always there now, perched on an amp during practice, her legs crossed, her eyes scanning Eddie like she’s making sure he doesn’t slip. She’s sweet to the band, all smiles and compliments, but there’s an edge to her, a possessiveness that lingers in the way she loops her arm through Eddie’s or leans into him when someone mentions your name. The band notices, but they don’t say it out loud. They miss you—the way you’d heckle Eddie from the crowd, the way you’d bring snacks and cheer louder than anyone—but they don’t know how to bridge the gap Eddie’s built.

You, meanwhile, are sinking deeper into yourself. You spend lunch periods in the library, your nose buried in a book you’re not reading, your Walkman blasting Joy Division so loud it drowns out your thoughts. The music is a poor substitute for Eddie’s voice, but it’s all you have. You avoid mirrors, avoid your own reflection in the library windows, because every time you catch a glimpse of yourself, you hear Tara’s unspoken accusation: You’re too much. You’re in the way. Your body, your laughter, your years with Eddie—it’s all too much for her, and now it feels like too much for you too.

One day, you’re in the front row of chemistry, scribbling nonsense in your notebook, when you hear his laugh from the hallway. It’s unmistakable, loud and unapologetic, the kind that used to make you smile no matter how bad your day was. Your pen freezes, and you strain to listen, catching Tara’s voice too, high and sharp. They’re close, probably by the lockers, and for a moment, you imagine running out there, grabbing his arm, and begging him to talk to you, to fix this. But the bell rings, and you’re out the door before anyone can stop you, your heart pounding as you duck into the library.

That night, you’re in your room, the lights off, the Polaroid of you and Eddie at the arcade pinned to your corkboard like a wound you can’t stop picking at. You’re curled up on your bed, your knees drawn to your chest, when the phone rings. Your heart leaps, but it’s not him. It’s Dustin, his voice hesitant. “Hey, um, we miss you at Hellfire. Eddie’s being weird about it, but… you okay?”

You swallow the lump in your throat. “I’m fine,” you lie, your voice barely steady. “Just… busy.”

“Bullshit,” Dustin says, blunt as ever. “Something’s up. You and Eddie have a fight or something?”

“No,” you say too quickly. “It’s nothing like that. I just need… space.”

He sighs, and you can picture him pushing his cap back, frustrated. “Okay, but you know you can talk to me, right? We’re worried.”

“I know,” you whisper, and you hang up before the tears come. You don’t call back.

The next Corroded Coffin gig is at the Hideout, and you don’t go. You used to be their biggest fan, screaming lyrics from the front row, your voice hoarse by the end of the night. Now, you sit in your car in the school parking lot, the engine off, staring at the flyer someone left on the bulletin board. Corroded Coffin, Friday, 9 PM. You imagine Eddie on stage, his hair flying, his guitar screaming, Tara watching from the sidelines like she owns him. The thought makes you feel sick, so you drive home, the radio silent.

Eddie, meanwhile, feels the weight of your absence. He doesn’t admit it, not to Tara, not to the band, not even to himself. But it’s there in the way he scans the crowd at the Hideout, hoping to see your face, only to find Tara’s instead. It’s there in the way he fumbles lyrics he’s sung a hundred times, because you’re not there to mouth them back at him, your grin a beacon in the dim light. He tells himself he’s doing the right thing, that Tara’s worth it, that love means sacrifice. But every time he sees your empty chair at Hellfire, every time Dustin or Gareth brings you up, he feels a crack in his resolve, a whisper that he’s made a terrible mistake.

You don’t see any of this. You’re too busy hiding, shutting down, letting the silence consume you. Your world is smaller now, confined to library corners and front-row seats, to nights alone with music that can’t fill the hole Eddie left. You wonder if this is what it means to disappear, to become a ghost in your own life. And somewhere, deep down, you wonder if Eddie even notices you’re gone.

Taglist : @whisperingwillowxox @robinsbuckleys @iyskgd @hereforshmut @poshpinklace @kissmyacdc @nubedeoctubreval @hellhoundvv

(did I do this taglist thing correctly ?)

[better-setterv2]

Hiiii! Could you do please one where Lewis and reader are good friends though Lewis is crazy in love with her since the moment he met her but she has a boyfriend so he is just like yearning for her. Until she and her boyfriend broke up and Lewis is there for her, supporting her, being the good friend he is, helping her heal until eventually she inevitably falls in love with him too.

Thank you so much in advance for reading.

I wish you the best. Have a good day :)

𝒜𝓁𝓌𝒶𝓎𝓈 𝒴𝑜𝓊

Authors Note: Hey guys! Another request finished. I apologise, I’m slowly getting through them as fast as I can, since I got 3 new assignments recently. Still have another 6 requests to go. Lots of love xx

Summary: Lewis has been in love with his best friend since they were young. Reader doesn’t realise until a break up in adulthood.

Warnings: slight swearing

Taglist: @hannibeeblog @nebulastarr @cosmichughes

MASTERLIST

࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

You met Lewis in your final year of secondary school.

You’d transferred halfway through the term - a mid-year shuffle after your parents’ divorce meant moving to a new town, new house, new everything. The school was bigger than your last, louder, the kind of place where everyone already had their people. And you were just floating. Walking the halls with your headphones in, sitting alone at lunch with your tray of untouched food and a book you’d already read twice. Pretending not to notice the stares, the whispered “who’s she?” that always seemed to follow new girls around.

You were used to hiding. The chaos at home had taught you how.

What you didn’t expect was that someone else was hiding too and that someone was Lewis Hamilton.

Even then, he had that spark. Teachers called it potential. Kids called it weird. He was fast not just on the track, but in the way his mind worked, the way he doodled car parts and corner lines in the margins of his maths book. Most of the time, he was quiet. But when he smiled really smiled you could feel the air shift.

Still, he wasn’t exactly popular.

Some of the boys resented him. For being different. For being focused. For being a different skin tone in a school that only ever paid lip service to diversity. You’d seen it in the way they snickered behind his back, the way they'd "joke" about the way he talked or call him names just under the teacher's radar. Not loud enough to get caught. Just loud enough to hurt.

One day, after a PE lesson, you saw him sitting alone behind the bleachers. His uniform was crumpled, his knees pulled up to his chest, and there was a bruise blooming on his cheekbone that hadn’t been there that morning.

You didn’t say anything at first. Just sat down beside him without a word, pulling your water bottle out of your bag and handing it over.

He looked at you like he wasn’t sure if he should trust it.

“You look like you hate this place almost as much as I do,” he said, finally breaking the silence.

You huffed a breath, something between a laugh and a sigh. “Well, I haven’t exactly been given a reason to love it.”

That was the beginning.

From then on, he’d meet you by your locker before class. You started sitting next to him at lunch, not caring that some people looked confused by it. You shared music. Traded secrets. Snuck snacks into the library during free periods. He let you read his notebook full of racing dreams and engine sketches the one no one else was allowed to see. And you let him see the messier parts of you, the way your chest still ached when your mum didn’t call back, the nights you cried into your pillow wondering why everything in your life was temporary.

Somehow, with him, it stopped feeling like you were just surviving.

And for Lewis in a world that often tried to shrink him, to make him smaller, quieter you never asked him to be anything but himself.

He didn’t realise it at first. Not in any dramatic, falling-off-a-cliff kind of way. It was gradual like the way morning light fills a room without anyone noticing until it’s fully bright. One day, he was just your friend. And the next he wasn’t sure how to breathe right when you laughed too hard and leaned into his shoulder. Or why his hands always felt warmer after you touched them. Or why it suddenly mattered so much if someone else made you smile.

He never said anything. Not then.

You were still figuring yourself out and he was still trying to prove himself to the world. So, he tucked it away. Folded those feelings into the pages of his sketchbook and the spaces between texts that said, “You okay?” when he really meant, “I miss you.”

But the truth of it lived quietly in him. The way he always saved you the better half of his sandwich. The way he noticed when your voice dipped just slightly over the phone. The way he’d rather spend hours lying on your floor doing nothing than be anywhere else.

And even after school ended, even when life began tugging you both in opposite directions him into the world of fast cars and global fame, you into uni lectures and internships and early heartbreaks the thread between you never snapped.

But before all that - before all the Grand Prix’s and mechanics and podiums you remember the first time you ever went over to Lewis’s house.

It was a rainy Friday afternoon. He’d noticed the way you lingered at your locker, dreading the walk home. You hadn’t told him your mum had forgotten to pick you up again, or that you’d been surviving on cereal and vending machine snacks for the last three days. But Lewis always had a way of knowing things without you saying them.

“Come over,” he said simply, slinging his rucksack over his shoulder. “Dad’ll be cool with it. He always makes too much food anyway.”

You wanted to say no. To come up with an excuse, a lie, anything that would let you keep your walls up. But something in his eyes made it hard to retreat. So, you nodded and followed him.

The flat was small, lived-in, warm. Racing posters covered the walls, and the faint scent of motor oil clung to the air like a second skin. But it felt like home in a way yours hadn’t in a long time.

Anthony Hamilton opened the door and took one look at you drenched hoodie, tired eyes, polite smile and something in his face softened.

“This her?” he asked, glancing at Lewis.

Lewis nodded. “Yeah. This is her.”

Anthony gave a quiet little grunt of approval and stepped aside. “Well, come on in then. Hope you’re hungry.”

You’d never had someone’s father cook for you like that before. He made spaghetti and garlic bread from scratch, cracked jokes across the table, and never once made you feel like an inconvenience. When you offered to help wash up afterward, he just shook his head and said, “Nah, you’re a guest. But if you’re coming back next week, I’ll put you to work.”

And he meant it. Because you did come back. Again, and again.

Anthony always greeted you like family. Remembered your favourite snack. Asked about your exams. Called you “kid” or “trouble” and sometimes when he thought you weren’t listening - told Lewis he was lucky to have a friend like you.

Lewis didn’t argue. He just smiled, small and secret, and looked down at his plate so no one could see what he was thinking.

You didn’t realise it at the time, but that house became a kind of second home. Not perfect, but safe. A place where you weren’t just seen but looked after. A place where you were wanted.

And it all started with a bruise on Lewis’s cheek and a quiet moment behind the bleachers.

You saw each other. Really saw each other.

And Lewis? He never stopped.

Years passed. The world spun faster.

Lewis became Lewis Hamilton. A name not just whispered between classmates anymore but shouted by fans from grandstands around the world. He wasn’t just the boy who shared your revision snacks and knew all your little tells - he was a world champion. A headline. A global name carved into history.

You watched his name rise from the corner of your laptop screen, from the tiny telly in your university flat with its dodgy antenna and sagging couch cushions. He was there in the background of your life like a familiar song, in magazine covers at the supermarket checkout, in Instagram stories forwarded by old classmates with messages like, “Remember him?”

Of course you remembered.

You never forgot the boy with ink-stained fingers who used to dream out loud to you in the back row of English class, notebook filled with cars and quotes and wide-eyed ambition. You never forgot the way he listened, really listened like every word you said mattered more than the noise of the world around you.

You texted sometimes. Birthday messages. The occasional “Good luck this weekend” or “Saw you on TV — still doodling in margins?” He’d always reply sometimes within minutes, sometimes days later from the other side of the globe. A scratchy voice note from a hotel room in Tokyo. A blurry selfie at an airport gate captioned ‘Look familiar?’ His replies were always warm, always tinged with something that never quite dulled with time.

But life had swept you up too.

There was your degree - long nights in the library, surviving on caffeine and cramming. An internship that turned into your first job. Your first apartment a tiny, creaky flat with paper-thin walls and a shower that only worked when you held the handle just right. You learned how to be alone. How to make instant noodles taste like something resembling dinner. You had your share of flings, mistakes, and one heartbreak so sharp it hollowed you out for a while.

And somewhere along the way, when you weren’t looking, the years folded over each other like pages turning on their own.

Then one day, he was back.

It was off-season. A rare break in the relentless hum of engines and media. He texted out of the blue:

Lewis -

In town for a bit. You around?

You stared at the message longer than you meant to, rereading it with a pulse of warmth you hadn’t felt in a long time. You typed back “Of course. Same café?” before you could overthink it.

And just like that, it was as if nothing had changed. Like the years between you hadn’t stretched or blurred.

He was waiting at the corner table of the café you used to sneak off to after school, the one with mismatched chairs and chipped mugs, the scent of cinnamon and coffee thick in the air. He was wearing sunglasses despite the overcast skies, a hoodie pulled low trying to blend in, though he never really could.

But when he looked up and saw you, his face split into that grin. That same damn grin that used to undo you in quiet, stupid ways.

“I still owe you a sandwich,” he said, holding the door open like always. “And probably a hundred library snacks.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing as you stepped inside. “I think you’re a little behind, Hamilton. More like two hundred.”

He laughed too low and fond but there was something in his eyes now. Something quieter. Something tired. Something that flickered when you told him about your job, your flat, your recent travels. And then—

“Josh, my boyfriend,” you said, smiling as you stirred your tea. Like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like it didn’t shift the ground beneath his feet.

Lewis didn’t flinch. Not visibly. But his fingers paused their slow tapping against the ceramic mug. Just for a second.

“Good guy?” he asked, voice soft.

You nodded, totally unaware. “Yeah. He’s great. Smart, steady. He makes me laugh. We’re thinking of moving in together next year, actually.”

And just like that, Lewis folded it all back in again.

The ache. The slow, quiet longing that had bloomed again the moment he saw you walk through that café door. The way you’d tilted your head at him and smiled like no time had passed it had unmoored him. For a moment, it had felt like something was beginning again.

He had been falling for you not with the reckless speed of youth, but with the slow, aching certainty of adulthood. The kind of falling that doesn’t feel like falling at all just coming home.

But he said nothing.

Instead, he asked about Josh. Nodded when you told him how you met. Chuckled when you shared some awkward first date story. He laughed in all the right places and nodded at all the wrong ones, because it was the only thing he could do. Pretend it didn’t crush him every time you casually used the word we.

Because he remembered the way you used to lean your head against his shoulder during revision breaks, the way you once cried into his hoodie over a boy who never deserved your tears. The way he used to think even back then — Maybe one day. And the way that day had never come.

He’d waited for the right moment once.

But life got loud, and time got away from him.

So, he backed off.

He was good at that slipping out of reach without causing a ripple. Letting you shine while he drifted just outside your orbit. He’d mastered that balance on the track, and now he practiced it with you letting his love for you live in the space between what could’ve been and what still was.

Still, he stayed.

The friend. The constant. The voice at the other end of the phone when your car battery died or when Josh forgot your anniversary and you didn’t want to make it a thing. He was the one who sent you memes at 2 a.m. when you couldn’t sleep. The one who always answered, even when the call came in the middle of a media day.

Because being near you even like this was better than being without you.

And maybe, deep down, a part of him still hoped. Not for now. Not even for soon. But for someday. Some quiet, unpromised someday when maybe the timing would finally be right.

Because the thread between you might’ve frayed with time, pulled taut with distance and different lives…

But it had never quite snapped.

Lewis started to notice it in the little things.

The way your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes when you talked about Josh anymore. How you used to light up when saying his name, voice soft, full of something warm and certain. Now, it caught on your tongue, like you weren’t sure it belonged there anymore. The way you once laughed a short, sharp sound with no real humour behind it - when Lewis casually asked if the move-in plans were still happening.

He didn’t press. He never did. But he paid attention.

He always had, when it came to you.

You met for coffee now and then, like you used to. Familiar places, familiar drinks. Life was busier now with race schedules, deadlines, missed calls that turned into half-hearted apologies but somehow, your paths kept circling back to each other, like gravity was doing its quiet work behind the scenes.

You told him stories. You always had stories. But lately, they came with longer pauses. You’d drift mid-sentence, distracted by something unsaid. You talked about work, about weekend plans, about Josh but more often now, Lewis noticed the searching in your voice, like you were digging for something good to say and couldn’t quite find it. And when you couldn’t, you’d just smile a little too tightly and change the subject.

Then came the texts.

Late-night ones, mostly. Sometimes after races. Sometimes at the end of an ordinary Tuesday.

You up?

Can I vent for a sec?

Is it bad that I don’t feel excited anymore?

Lewis never asked what had happened. Never dug into what Josh had said or done that night. He just answered, every time. It didn’t matter if he was in another country or a hotel room between races. If you needed him, he was there.

When Josh started missing the important days your birthday dinner, your sister’s graduation, the quiet night in you’d planned for weeks Lewis watched you try to hold the pieces together. You always gave Josh the benefit of the doubt. “He’s just stressed.” “He said he’ll make it up to me.”

But your voice cracked more each time you said it.

And when you said, “He’s just busy,” Lewis heard what you didn’t say:

So am I. But I still show up.

The night it all broke, you didn’t call.

It was Luna, your girl best friend, who messaged him instead, her words stumbling in a rush of panic:

She found him with someone else. She’s not okay. Please can you go? I don’t think she wants me right now.

Lewis didn’t hesitate. He didn’t think about the early call time he had the next morning or the interview he’d probably miss. He just grabbed his keys, shoved on a hoodie, and drove.

When you opened the door, you didn’t speak.

Your eyes were red-rimmed and glassy, lashes still damp. Hair pulled up carelessly. A hoodie too big for you hung off your frame like armour, sleeves falling over your hands. For a beat, you just stood there, like you didn’t know what to say, like you barely recognised yourself.

Lewis didn’t need words. He just opened his arms.

And you folded into him like it was instinct.

He wrapped you up, warm and steady, your face pressed against his chest as the sobs came in waves softer than before, worn down by hours of crying, but still aching. His hand cradled the back of your head, fingertips weaving into your hair, grounding you. You clung to him like you’d been holding your breath all day and only just remembered how to exhale.

He didn’t ask for details. Didn’t say “I’m sorry” or “What happened?”

He just let you break.

He stayed that night.

Made you tea you didn’t drink. Sat beside you on the couch, a blanket draped gently over your shoulders even though you never asked for one. He took your phone when it buzzed Josh’s name lighting up the screen and silenced it with barely a glance. And when you finally fell asleep on the couch, still tear-streaked and trembling, he curled himself into the armchair, kept one eye open, just in case you needed him again.

You woke at three a.m., disoriented, heart pounding, and he was still there - his hoodie bunched around his neck, his head resting awkwardly against the cushion. He stirred the second you shifted. Met your tired gaze with a quiet, reassuring look and asked, “You okay?”

You weren’t. But somehow, knowing he was there made it easier to breathe.

And he didn’t leave.

Not the next day. Not the one after that.

He came over with takeaway from your favourite Thai place, the one Josh always said was “too far out of the way.” He brought pastries from that little café you used to love, and when you couldn’t eat more than a few bites, he didn’t say a word. He walked your route home from work just to be near, to make the air around you feel less heavy. Sometimes, you didn’t talk. Sometimes, he made you laugh with dumb paddock stories impersonations of other drivers, tales from press tours gone wrong.

And sometimes, when the grief caught up to you when you curled into yourself on the couch, shoulders shaking, pain bubbling up without warning Lewis would pull you close, rub slow circles on your back, and whisper soft nothings until the wave passed.

You never thanked him. Not out loud. Not directly.

He never asked you to.

You didn’t fall in love with him all at once.

It wasn’t some cinematic moment or grand realisation. It was slow. Gentle. It was the way he remembered how you liked your tea with one sugar, splash of milk, extra hot. It was the way he read your silences better than most people understood your words. The way he always kept a respectful distance, never pushing, never making you feel like you owed him anything for being there.

It was the morning he dropped off groceries unannounced because you hadn’t been eating. The evening, he fixed the leaky tap in your kitchen without saying a word about it. The day he showed up with flowers not because it was a special occasion but because he thought your flat deserved some colour again.

And then, it was the day you laughed.

Really laughed.

He had said something stupid a joke about his own hair routine, maybe, or a story about George accidentally texting a team group chat instead of his girlfriend. Whatever it was, it caught you off-guard, and the sound escaped before you could stop it. Bright. Unfiltered. Real.

You covered your mouth with your hand, blinking like you couldn’t believe it happened.

When you looked at Lewis, he was already watching you.

Not with pity. Not even with relief. Just that quiet warmth again. That look that told you he’d seen the worst of you and hadn’t flinched.

Something in your chest cracked open.

Not from grief this time. But from something warmer. Something that felt like light creeping into a room you hadn’t stepped into in ages.

And in that moment, it hit you not all at once, but suddenly and sharply, like clarity finally pulling into focus:

This man had been yours all along.

Not in the way Josh had tried to possess you loudly, carelessly, like a prize. But in the way Lewis had loved you in silence. Patiently. Unconditionally. Fully. Without asking for anything back.

He had waited.

Without ever asking you to wait too.

And maybe now finally it was time.

It started slowly, the falling.

You didn’t even notice it at first. Just little things that shifted without you meaning them to. Like how your eyes searched for him in a crowd, without even thinking. Or how your chest loosened just a little every time you saw his name light up your phone screen.

One evening, a few weeks after the breakup, you were sitting on your balcony with him two mugs of lukewarm tea between you, the sun dipping behind the city skyline like it, too, was exhaling. Lewis was telling you about a disastrous team dinner in Monaco, and you were laughing. Really laughing again.

And then he looked at you just looked, not like anything had changed and your heart did something traitorous. It stuttered. Dropped. Caught again.

You blamed the sunset. Or the tea. Or the way he said your name so gently.

But that moment stayed with you.

And so did the next one. And the next.

Like when he reached over to brush a piece of lint from your sleeve and your skin burned under the touch. Or the day he walked you home in the rain, his jacket held over both your heads, and you couldn’t stop staring at the way his lashes caught the water. Or the night you watched a movie together and you leaned into his side a little longer than you needed to and he didn’t move. He just let you stay.

It scared you.

Because for the first time in a long time, you felt something. And it wasn’t grief. It wasn’t the ache of losing something or someone. It was softer than that. Warmer. Like something was rebuilding inside you, brick by brick and it had his fingerprints all over it.

You told Luna one night, voice low, like it was something fragile.

“I think I’m falling for him.”

She didn’t even look surprised.

“You’ve always been his. You just didn’t see it before.”

You didn’t answer. But the words haunted you for days.

One night, you found yourself digging through an old photo album in your parents’ attic a dusty, battered one filled with pictures from secondary school. School trips. Award ceremonies. Blurry selfies from your first ever music festival.

And there he was.

In the background of almost every photo. Always close. Always watching you. Sometimes laughing at something you’d said. Sometimes looking like he was about to speak but didn’t. And then there was that one of you and Josh, smiling stiffly at some friend dinner and Lewis, just off to the side, his expression unreadable.

You stared at that one the longest.

And suddenly, it clicked.

Like a puzzle piece slotted into place after years of trying to force the wrong ones together. You remembered the way he’d waited outside your classroom when you forgot your jacket. The way he’d walked you to the bus stop every day, even though it made him late. The way he never once told you how he felt not because he didn’t care, but because he didn’t want to burden you with it.

He’s loved you since you were kids.

You felt like an idiot. A blind one. Because how could you not have seen it? How could you have missed the kind of love that patient? That selfless?

That real?

You didn’t know what to do with the realisation. It sat in your chest like a secret too big to carry, too dangerous to say aloud. So, you didn’t. Not right away.

But the next time you saw him, something had changed.

It was movie night again your third that week, an unspoken tradition that neither of you ever seemed to want to break. He was curled on the floor, back against the couch, and you were up on the cushions, your legs tucked beneath you.

And you couldn’t stop watching him.

Not in a subtle, sidelong-glance kind of way but openly. Boldly. Like you needed to memorise him. Every line of his face. The soft edge of his smile. The way he knew the movie word for word but still watched it like it was brand new, just because you liked it.

At some point, he turned to say something, and your eyes met mid-breath.

Silence.

Your heart thundered. His lips parted, just slightly, like he was going to say something, but then he didn’t. He just…watched you back.

Your fingers twitched.

You didn’t know who moved first. Maybe both of you. Maybe neither — maybe it was just something that had been waiting to happen for years, and finally, finally, the timing aligned.

Your hand slipped down beside his. Not touching. Just close.

He looked down.

Then back at you.

And then he reached slowly, like giving you time to pull away and let his fingers brush yours.

It wasn’t a kiss. Not yet.

But it was the spark.

You didn’t speak the rest of the movie. You didn’t move away, either.

When the credits rolled, you turned to him, your voice soft, trembling just a little.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

He didn’t pretend not to know what you meant.

He just looked down, let out a breath, and said,

“Because you were happy. And I didn’t want to be the reason you weren’t.”

Your throat tightened.

You reached for his hand again fully this time. Your palm against his. His thumb brushed over your knuckles like a whisper.

“I wasn’t,” you said. “Not really. I just didn’t know what it was supposed to feel like.”

His eyes met yours again, and something flickered there something deep, something vulnerable.

“Then let me show you.”

The words were so quiet, you almost missed them.

And that’s when you leaned in.

It wasn’t a rushed kiss. It wasn’t urgent or desperate. It was slow. Careful. Like the kind of thing that had waited too long to be careless. Your lips brushed his like a question. His answer was the way he tilted his head, deepened the kiss, his hand cradling your jaw like you were something breakable and holy all at once.

It was years of silence. Years of patience. Years of loving each other in the wrong timelines, finally collapsing into one moment where everything was right.

When you pulled back, he didn’t say anything.

He just smiled wide, real, full of every unspoken thing between you.

And you knew this was just the beginning.

You didn’t define it right away.

After the kiss that soft, silent thing that felt like coming home neither of you rushed to fill the space with labels or declarations. You stayed curled on the couch beside him, legs tangled beneath the throw blanket, your fingers still laced together. His thumb kept tracing gentle arcs over your knuckles like he couldn’t quite believe he was allowed to touch you like this now. Like if he let go, it might all disappear.

It wasn’t awkward.

It wasn’t loud.

It was just…different.

Softer. Heavier. A stillness that settled between you like shared breath. The world didn’t shift with a bang, but something unspoken clicked into place, quiet and sure like how you always knew you were meant to find your way back to him.

You still messaged the same way stupid memes, check-ins, late-night “did you eat?” texts but something about the timing changed. His replies came faster. Your words lingered longer before you hit send. And the silence between messages stretched not with absence, but with anticipation. A little thrill of “what are we now?” echoing quietly every time you looked at your screen.

The next time he came over, he didn’t knock.

He let himself in, as always, but this time when you turned the corner into the hallway, he kissed your cheek before saying anything. Like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like he’d been doing it forever.

And maybe, in a way, he had just not out loud.

That night, when you curled up beside him again under your well-worn blanket, the space between you narrowed with ease. His arm draped over your shoulder with the same hesitance you'd seen in his eyes when he first took your hand the night before cautious, hopeful. He was giving you an out, if you wanted one.

Instead, you leaned in closer, resting your head against his collarbone.

Your voice came out like a secret. “Is this okay?”

He tilted his head down, met your eyes really looked.

“Yeah,” he said, warm and steady. “If you want it to be.”

And you did. God, you did.

You just didn’t know how to be in love with your best friend without fumbling the very thing you’d both spent years unknowingly building.

The first time you went out in public again not as just friends, but not quite a couple either was for lunch at that little café tucked behind the bookshop you both liked. You sat beside him instead of across. Close enough to feel the brush of his sleeve every time he lifted his coffee.

At one point, his hand found your knee under the table. Not deliberate. Not bold. Just... there. And your heart fluttered like a teenager with her first crush.

No one looked twice. But you did.

Every second.

He’d say something funny that dry, quiet kind of wit that had always made you laugh and you’d look at him with new eyes. Like, how did I miss this for so long? His lips curved, and you caught yourself watching his mouth, remembering what it had felt like against yours.

He noticed.

And he smiled like he couldn’t help it.

“Do you think this is weird?” you asked, peeling at the corner of your napkin.

Lewis shook his head gently, brushing his thumb across the back of your hand beneath the table. “No. But I think we’ve both been scared of it for a long time.”

You looked up, searching his face.

“Are you still scared?”

“A little,” he admitted. “But not of loving you.”

It didn’t escalate right away.

He never rushed. Never asked for more than you were ready to give. Just lingered a little longer when he touched you. A hand on your back when you passed each other in the hallway. A brush of his fingers down your arm as he handed you a cup of tea. A forehead pressed to yours in that quiet moment before goodbye.

He kissed you like it was a promise. Every time. Like it was sacred.

The first night he stayed over again after everything you shared your bed.

Fully clothed. Fully comfortable.

You lay with your head on his chest, legs tangled together beneath the covers, his hand gently resting against your spine like he was grounding you. His heartbeat was steady, strong beneath your ear.

“Is this real?” you whispered into the dark.

His voice was husky, drowsy. “Been real for me since we were kids.”

You tilted your head up, tears stinging the corners of your eyes.

He caught the shift in your expression and kissed your forehead so gently it nearly broke you.

You didn’t say I love you yet.

But you felt it in every moment he reached for you when you woke up panicked from a dream, in the way he stayed quiet when you needed silence and spoke only when your shoulders relaxed enough to listen.

There were bumps.

You panicked one morning when Luna asked casually if you were back on the dating apps, and your mouth opened before your brain could catch up. You froze, unsure what to say, unsure if you could say anything yet. It wasn’t a secret. But it wasn’t public either. Not quite yours to explain without him.

Lewis noticed that night, when you sat a little further away on the couch. When you went quiet in the way that meant your mind was spinning too fast for your own good.

He didn’t say anything. Didn’t push.

He just came by the next morning with your favourite coffee, still warm, and a gentle smile on his face.

“Still with me?” he asked quietly, holding out the cup.

You took it with both hands, eyes soft. “I just - I don’t want to ruin this.”

He leaned in, brushing his thumb across your cheek, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“You won’t,” he murmured. “We’ve already been through the worst, haven’t we?”

Your breath hitched as you looked at him. All the versions of him you’d loved. The boy who sat beside you in class, the teenager who walked you home in the rain, the man who now held you like you were something precious.

You leaned forward and rested your forehead against his.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “And you stayed.”

“Always.”

The first time you told him you loved him; it wasn’t a grand gesture.

It was late. He’d just come back from a long race weekend a brutal one. You’d watched the whole thing on your laptop, biting your nails and yelling at the screen like he could hear you. When he finally walked through your door, tired and rumpled and so painfully familiar, you didn’t even think. You just moved.

You threw your arms around his neck, burying your face in his shoulder, breathing in the scent of him in motor oil and cologne and something warm beneath it all.

“I love you,” you whispered into his collar.

He stilled.

Then slowly, his arms wrapped around your waist. Tighter. Closer.

He pulled back just enough to see your face, his eyes wide, like he wanted to make sure you meant it.

You did.

He smiled that small, private smile he’d only ever given to you and exhaled like he’d been holding it in for years.

“Finally,” he said. “I can say it back.”

And he did.

He said it again that night, between kisses that were slower than usual. Deeper. Kisses that said I missed you and thank you and I’ve been waiting for this for so long.

He said it the next morning, when he woke up to find you still wrapped around him, one hand curled beneath his t-shirt like you’d anchored yourself there in sleep.

He said it the morning after that, too.

And every day after, like it had been sitting on the tip of his tongue for a decade.

And now, he never had to hold it back again.

[4norizz]

Were you Listening?

Summary— Toto notices his student starts slacking off and decides private tutoring is the best approach

Warnings— she sits on his lap ; mentions of reader being horny ; teasing ; no smut sadly :/ ; allusions to smut though

A/N— enjoy!

Masterlist

Dividers @bernardsbendystraws @dollywons

Request— toto wolff is a professor at a university, he was teaching maths. he has this one student who kept on slacking off in his class. he doesn't know the reason why she was doing that. so he got sick of this disrespect and asked the student/reader to meet him in his office for a punishment. but toto doesn't know that she was only slacking off because she wanted to get his attention.

College was easy, well easy when your professor in his fifties is fucking hot. Toto Wolff was part of some racing team, but died down his presence to do what he really wanted: teaching maths. He still has some part in racing, but not too prominent.

The only reason she was able to pass his class was because of his looks. She was enthralled by what he was saying and it stuck, her brain remembering the way his lips moved and his hands gestured towards the board.

Recently her grades started going downhill in his class and she didn’t know that he would address that, not to mention the disrespect she had been giving or the dozing off she would do in his classes now.

He went on about his lesson and when the class filed out he pointed to her and made a come here motion with his hand. The other students left, just her and her professor alone. “What’s with your grades dropping darling?” He asked. She huffed out a breath and relaxed her shoulders.

She looked around to avoid eye contact and smirked at the response she thought of. “Well the lectures aren’t as good as they used to be and I just can’t concentrate.” She practically whined to him. “I do apologize for sleeping in your class sometimes, but you’re overworking me.”

Toto nodded at her excuses, because that’s all they were, excuses. “I can tutor you if you’d like, but you need to get your grades up and listen to my lectures.” He offered. Her face lit up at the idea and she agreed that tutoring would help her out.

The first few sessions were quite mediocre and standard teacher and student. When Toto started noticing she wasn’t paying attention or doodling on the notes, he slammed a book on her desk, making her jump and look at him through her eyelashes.

“Are you listening?” He questioned. She nodded and gulped. She couldn’t help being turned on by the older man. “If you aren’t listening I’ll have to find another way to teach you.” He tilted his head with the serious tone he had used on her.

“Yes, sir.” She squeaked. She put her hands in her lap and focused on the board he was so diligently writing notes on for some math lesson. She took in the information and passed the next exam with flying colors.

However, he could not get her to pay attention during this one lesson. He could slam a book as many times as he wanted, she wouldn’t listen nor keep focused on him. Finally he resorted to physical touch. He placed his hand on her chin and forced her to look at him. “Is this a problem subject darling?”

Her face went pink and she gulped. She weakly nodded at him and he let her chin go, turning her notes toward him. She rubbed her thighs together at the proximity. “I just don’t understand it.” She said quietly as he admired her doodles and mindless writing. She was enjoying the attention.

He sighed and pointed to the board. “New page, write that down.” He demanded. She nodded and listened. He watched as she did so, sharing a glance every now and then. “Now. I want you to read off your notes, and explain what I said about it.” He began erasing the chalk from the board and she started citing math rules.

She only read the notes and he stood with his arms crossed waiting on the elaboration he had provided outside of writing. She didn’t remember any of what he said so she stayed quiet. “I wasn’t listening..” She admitted, her face tinged pink still.

He chuckled and she crossed a leg over the other, starting to feel her arousal seep through her underwear as he chuckled. “That’s it for today then, tomorrow I’ll have a different way to get you to remember, okay darling?” He said. With that she left the classroom quickly.

The next tutoring session was nothing of the sort of the usual teacher-student interaction. She noticed how he locked the door. Her breath caught and she snapped her head between the lock and his face. “You never lock the door.” She mentioned.

“I told you I have other ways of motivation for today.” He reminded her. He sat in his chair and pat his lap. She hesitated but sat there anyway. He had notes written in beautiful script on his desk. “If you’re good maybe I’ll reward you.” He whispered.

She squeaked and he began the math lesson. She listened hard and carefully. Once he was done she was able to recite Every Single Word He said. “Did I miss anything?” She asked innocently. Her mind was racing after repeating the math notes.

She was sure that even though she recited it, she’s going to fail the exam remembering how she learned the information. His hands found their way to her thighs. He lightly caressed them and she tilted her head back with a sigh. “Now, pass the exam and I’ll give you a real reward hm?”

She nodded, all words dying on her tongue at the sensations she was feeling. His hands lightly scratching her soft, delicate skin. She shivered at the feeling and then he tapped her, as to say ‘lesson done’ and she stood up. She almost tripped on the way out the door and he smirked from his desk.

Sure enough, she passed the exam with 10 bonus points for a detailed study guide. She smiled big and made her way to Professor Wolff’s office. She knocked and he called out. She opened the door and he smiled up at her, placing his pen neatly in a cup. “You did a good job darling.” He praised.

Her grades began improving and as a reward he would provide her with time outside of the school, small ‘get togethers’ or ‘dates,’ but all they would do is flirt and talk. Toto Wolff was not going to be fired over a student-teacher relationship, but he sure as hell wants to be with her.

I nearly made this smut but I decided against it, I couldn’t think of anything good 😭

[emberphoenixisgoingtolive]

Nublar Six's study habits

in honour of me hitting the halfway mark through my exams, here's how i think the nublar six would study and the grades they get!!

Darius:

extremely studious

studies in Kenji’s/Brand’s room. cannot focus without being in the proximity of another person

works almost to the point of burnout before Brand/his mother/one of the N6 drag him to a theme park or aquarium to unwind

tutors Kenji on science subjects despite being two grades younger than him (Darius is three grades ahead science wise)

hosts virtual study sessions with the others

makes very detailed flashcards (digitally because his handwriting is terrible)

gets mostly A–A* but probably a B or C student in sports

best subjects are the sciences, particularly biology, and maths. he is so good at stem subjects. nerd [affectionate]

Brooklynn:

never actually learned how to study in all her years of homeschool

studies at her kitchen table (her bedroom is her sleep space)

the others teach her how (except Kenji cos he has no clue how to study either)

learns extremely quickly and gets mostly As with a few Bs and A*s

one of those annoying people who are good at everything (Yaz hates it)

her best subjects are the humanities–type stuff (geography, history, religious studies, economics, life skills etc) and english

Yaz:

pretty studious; probably has the most consistent studying habits out of everyone

very used to studying in unusual places because of fitting studying in between all her track events (she’s studied in locker rooms more than libraries)

has weirdly small writing

usually studies by doing practise questions

has one (1) google drive folder where she keeps all her revision material

can Not be listening to music while she studies

mostly As, A* in sports (obvs), and a few Bs

overall good at everything except english. it’s her worst enemy. analysing literature texts makes her want to flip her desk.

Sammy:

decent at studying but only because she does everything she can to make it more fun

her notes are the prettiest notes you’ve ever seen

ratio of actual notes:random doodles about 50:50

writes in gel pen with big, loopy handwriting

highlighter all over her notes

listens to music or life beats while she studies

carries around every book under the sun, “just in case i need it!!” even if it makes her backpack weigh about 20 kilos (45 pounds)

usually gets Bs and a few As

best subjects are english (she helps tutor Yaz ofc) and other languages. she’s fluent in Spanish, she might as well take it for the easy A

Kenji:

hates studying. would honestly jump down the stairs to get out of an exam. has done so once or twice

also has to have someone else near him or he won’t focus

very reluctantly has to ask one of the Bowmans to sit with him while he studies (they are all more than happy to oblige)

usually studies in the kitchen while mama Bowman is making dinner or doing her own work or smth

mama Bowman was a pretty good student and i hc she has a healthcare job of some description so she could help Kenji with the sciences

used to be a C/D student but since living with the Bowmans he becomes a B/C student

Ben:

hates studying. hates school. writes detailed rants on why the school system is fundamentally broken instead of actually studying.

doodles Bumpy in the middle of class in his notebook and thinks about running around the jungle

has to be forced into studying by the others. Darius has to bully him over video call

if he has to study it’s outside. being indoors suffocates him

gets As in biology, bare minimum grades needed to study paleontology and otherwise does Not Care

best subject is biology. everything else he hates with a passion.

[agirlwithglam]

Motivation: things to like about these subjects

Math:

Isn’t math kinda magical in a way? See, the thing about math is that it’s the same in every country! Every equation, no matter how hard or complex or long, can easily be broken down into much easier ones, (like simple adding, multiplying, dividing, or subtracting) Once you know what’s going on, it’s not really that hard. (+ take cute notes!!)

Science:

Ookay, honestly? Science is genuinely so interesting! How your body works, how plants create their own food, how the whole solar system was made/ operates, whether there’s other life out there, chemical reactions & experiments? If you actually tried to be fascinated by it, you’ll be surprised how incredible it all is! (+ take cute notes!!)

English:

Me personally, I loveee English. You can too by trying to romanticise it!

If you’re doing poetry, like what’s there not to like? Poetry is such a beautiful language, it’s a way of expression through gentleness.

Writing short stories? This is my favourite. You can write it about anything, the possibilities are endless! Doesn’t it excite you?

History

Don’t try to remember facts and dates of events, try to learn the story behind it. You’ll find that it actually becomes so much more interesting if you remember the story, the emotions, the plots of the event.

Romanticising: hot chocolate or some hot coffee, studying at home, hair in a messy bun, playing some classical music in the background.

(+ also in class when you’re taking notes, you can doodle pictures of the people (stick figures for me lol), how they’d feel like or events on the side to add a bit of fun to it)

And honestly, history is such ‘romance subject’ (like arts, music, literature, languages)

Geography

Become good at it. If you don’t already have an interest in geography, then what helped me was becoming good at it. Paying attention during lessons, taking cute notes, etc. becoming good at it made it so much easier and less scary

Languages

This is also what I’d call a “Romance language”. Also dont you want to learn new languages? So many people decide to learn languages later in their lives because they find out it helps you in one way or another, but in school they’re already teaching it to you in the BEST WAY! Also knowing and being able to speak more than 1 languages fluently makes you SO powerful bc then you can speak in more countries. And also imagine how impressed people would be?!

Music

Have fun with it! It mostly depends on what you are doing in your music lessons, but what you would normally be doing is learning/ practicing an instrument. Don’t be immature and play it at random times when the teacher is talking, but just have fun with it! Again, like i said earlier, so many people start to learn music so much later in their lives and here it is being handed to you on a silver platter. TAKE ADVANTAGE OF IT!

Art / art&design

Personally, I LOVE art!! It’s another “romance subject”. It’s a beautiful form of expression. Even though you may not be doing what you want to be doing, still have fun with it!! Be creative! And importantly: loosen up! Art, like beauty, is very very subjective. One person’s scribble can be another’s MASTERPIECE! So stop bring so worried with it being “correct”. Just have appreciation.

P.E (physical education/ sport)

I just don’t understand why anyone wouldn’t like PE. Like you don’t even have to learn anything, you just run around playing fun games. And as a bonus u get fit!

xoxo, vanilla

[pchysnz]

BANANA MILK. kim woonhak

There were three things Seo Yubin hated more than gum under desks:

1. Late assignments,

2. Loud hallway loiterers, and

3. Kim Woonhak.

Well. Not hate, per se. More like a deep, exhausted tolerance. The kind of tolerance you give your overly affectionate golden retriever who keeps digging up the yard. Sure, he's kind of cute. But also-why is he like this?

Yubin sat at the front of Class 2-3, posture straight, highlighters lined in a rainbow formation, the Class President sash on her desk like a badge of honor. She was reviewing the list of students who had yet to turn in their club activity forms when a familiar voice cut through the classroom like a fire drill.

"Yubin-ah! You forgot to list my hidden talent!"

She didn't look up. "If it's your ability to inhale banana milk in under ten seconds, I think the school already knows."

"Ah! She does notice me," Woonhak grinned, plopping into the seat beside hers with the grace of a tumbleweed in a windstorm. He was holding, of course, a banana milk. Yubin didn't need to look to know-she could smell it.

"I also juggle," he added proudly.

"Your GPA and attendance record?"

A loud wheeze came from a few desks over. Jaehyun had choked on his gum. Riwoo slapped him on the back while trying to suppress laughter.

"Class president's got claws," Sungho murmured in amusement."

She always does," Taesan said with a grin, arms folded behind his head. "You just don't see them 'cause you're too busy flirting."

"I am not flirting!" Woonhak said, scandalized. "I'm establishing a solid rapport with my future wife-uh, classmate. Classmate."

Yubin raised a brow. "Are you having a stroke?"

"No, but I am feeling faint. Might be from all the unrequited love in the air."

Leehan, from the back, muttered, "He's been reading poetry again, hasn't he?"

-

Kim Woonhak had a secret. A deeply guarded, monumentally life-changing, heart-palpitating secret.

He have a crush on Seo Yubin.

And not just any crush. This wasn't your average "she's cute when she's angry" type of infatuation. No, no. This was a "she once handed me a pencil and I haven't known peace since" kind of crush.

"Bro," Jaehyun whispered as they watched Yubin rearrange the class suggestion box for the third time that week, "just tell her."

"Tell her what? 'Hi, I dreamt you lectured me for not recycling and I woke up smiling'?"

"...Okay, don't tell her."

-

Yubin, meanwhile, was convinced that Kim Woonhak had made it his life's mission to test the limits of her patience.

He disrupted announcements. He doodled hearts in the margins of his homework-not for her, obviously (...maybe)-and he once tried to convince the whole class that Wednesday should be officially declared Banana Milk Appreciation Day.

"He's harmless," her best friend had once said.

Yubin wasn't so sure. Harmless things didn't make your heart skip when they grinned at you from across the room. Harmless things didn't call you "President-nim" in a tone that sounded dangerously close to flirting.

Still, someone had to keep Woonhak in check. And it sure wasn't going to be any of his sidekick crew, who enabled him like it was a full-time job.

-

The bell rang for lunch, and as expected, Woonhak materialized beside Yubin like a particularly cheerful ghost.

"President-nim," he said, bowing dramatically, "would you grant me the honor of your company at the lunch table today?"

Yubin didn't even flinch. "Denied. The last time I sat with you, Jaehyun spilled kimchi on my math notes."

"Accidents make memories!"

"So does failing math."

"She's good," Riwoo whispered.

"She's too good for him," Leehan said, sipping his juice.

"Which is exactly why he's obsessed," Sungho added knowingly.

-

Despite herself, Yubin did sit at their table for exactly six minutes and thirty-nine seconds. Long enough for Woonhak to offer her banana milk (which she declined), for Jaehyun to knock over a side dish (again), and for Riwoo to quietly pass her a folded note.

She opened it under the table.

"He's going to confess by the end of the semester. We're betting snacks on it. Don't tell him."- Jaehyun, Taesan, Riwoo, Sungho, and Leehan (Team Chaos)

She blinked.Then glanced up-straight into Woonhak's eyes, who was already watching her with a goofy, open smile. He looked away immediately when caught, scratching the back of his neck and pretending to be extremely interested in his rice.

Yubin stared at her tray, cheeks warming.

"Ugh," she muttered to herself. "He's not that cute."

Pause.

...Right?

[dronebiscuitbat]

Give me a Reason - Chapter 21: Rumormill

https://archiveofourown.org/works/57309457/chapters/164482243

Math was uneventful, thankfully. Lizzy hadn't shown up, so Uzi didn't have to face the embarrassment that was seeing her least favorite person's smug little face after sending her to the hospital with one little kick. (Perhaps it wouldn't have been so bad if you couldn't see her ribs as it was)

There was still dread building up in her chest from earlier today, even more so as she felt herself being watched as she worked through her tenth algebraic equation. Every time she looked up though… no one was looking at her.

It was plucking the strings of her temper, especially as she kept pulling out her phone and checking the video and watching as the veiw counter ballooned to 12,000, 13,000- either it had escaped containment from the school or people were re-watching her fall dramatically into N's arms like a damsel in distress.

At least they'd been kind enough to cut out the part of her dumping her insides out into a bush…

…

N hummed to himself, decidedly ignoring the freaky deer head in a jar behind the teachers desk and instead resting his head on his hand, doodling in the margins of his notes after he'd taken Mrs. Sparks first pop quiz.

His foot tapped against the floor as he got into it, and he was about halfway through the doodle when he realized he was drawing a cat with a beanie.

He smiled, and leaned into what his subconscious clearly wanted by making the cat look deadpan and giving it a bat shaped bow around it's neck. He chuckled, imagining what his new best freind would think about it.

Probably complain about how she's too cool for a bow. His thoughts answered for him. Or ask why your doodling her in class like a weirdo.

He didn't like that last thought, so he banished it, shaking his head like a wet dog and pulling his eyes away from the drawing to look back up to the rest of the class.

To find one of his classmates staring at him.

He blinked, looked behind him to make sure he wasn't just in the way of her intended target, and then moved side to side to make doubly certain, but her eyes followed him intently.

He formed a smile and waved at the blue haired woman, her bangs dyed red instead. Her big blue eyes fluttered and she smiled back before slowly turning back in her seat.

He cocked his head in confusion, if she wanted to say hello, then why stare?

The bell rang. His eyes lit up. Now he could go see Uzi! Maybe he'd ask her about it, she probably knew, she was so smart!

He hoped she'd eaten today… her lightness still worried him, yes she was small. But she definitely shouldn't be that light. But he was fixing that, or rather, Tessa was, she'd made him two lunches! One to give to “his new girlfriend” using her words.

He felt his face grow warm as he grabbed his backpack. She wasn't his girlfriend, and it was just Tessa teasing, he admired her sure! She was cool and strong and had so much freedom. It was hard not to. He just… couldn't figure out why the thought of it made his heart skip a beat-

“Heeey!” A female voice catches him before he can leave the threshold of the doorway, and he spins around to look into the blue eyelights of the girl who was staring at him before. She was curling her finger in the locks of her hair. “You're Nathaniel right?”

“Uh- Yeah! Thats Me! But I'd rather be called N.” He smiled ,giving her a friendly face to talk to.

“Ooh, nickname, Cool… I'm Rebecca, N. I saw you in that video from yesterday, you were sooo nice helping that girl.” She smiles right back; fluttering her eyelights. N wondered if she had something in her eye.

“Video? What Video?” He cocked his head again.

“How have you not seen it? I think the whole school has!” She explained, bringing out her phone and heading to her social media.

“Oh I don't have any social media… Mrs- Mom tells me it rots your brain.” N admited sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head.

“Ah! So kind and internet healthy~” She smiled with half-lidded eyes before shoeing him the video by handing him her phone.

It was of Uzi! Oh but it was when she was passing out and he caught her… this very much shouldn't have been recorded. She was hurt and needed help!

“Oh.” Was all he said as he processed, scrolling through the comments. Smiling at the ones saying Uzi was pretty and frowning at the ones that seemed to be poking fun at her appearance, his hand tensing as a flash of anger went through him, though it quickly dissolved when he read.

:Man loves his Goth GF

And that wasn't the only one, there were hundreds now, all declaring how cute they were together or even how he could do better- which made the anger return breifly, but it was quickly drowned out by his cheeks filling with blush.

“Is she your girlfriend? She's… very punk.” Rebecca hesitated until she found something that sounded sorta like a compliment.

“Uh. N-no, we're not-" He gestured wildly with his hands, not exactly sure how to reply, “Uzi's my freind, my best freind, she wasn't feeling well that day so… I helped.”

He doesn't notice the girls eyes in front of him seem to light up.

“Awwww, well arent you a good freind!” She smiled, grabbing back her phone like she was stealing a snickers. “Oh! We better get to our classes! See you around N.”

And off she went, leaving him standing there holding a bag of questions.

After a moment of confused blinking, he's shot off towards English to hopefully make it on time…

[yurinaa-world]

platonic dr ratio with child reader having a personality of madoka magica? the reader is a magical girl and dr ratio idk taking care of their clumsy behavior? i dont see anyone writing for platonic dr ratio and i really need a bit of comfort😭

write whenever you want or idk

𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈: Dr. Ratio platonic! x Gender-neutral Reader

𝒮𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: with a student reader that has the personality of Madoka Magica

𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: Fluff and spelling mistakes,

𝒱𝑒𝓇𝒾𝓉𝒶𝓈 𝑅𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜

He doesn’t like your clumsy behaviour at all. Please watch you run around during battle; it might be worse than looking at an idiot's face. You're unpaired and should think of a plan before you jump.

A lot of the time, he’ll have to fight alongside you since you’re illiterate and can’t figure out where the enemy's weak points are.

But don't think it’s the battlefield is the only place he’s going to teach you. Count the classroom also because now you’re officially his student, and he’ll ensure you’ll become the best. He’ll make you shine like the star you meant to be! But this means you're going to have to do math…You'd rather fight than do the math!

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Where do you think you’re going?” 

Your teacher, Dr. Ratio, immediately stopped you from leaving his class. You already know the problem since he’s 100% going to yell and lecture you for hours because of your poor grades. “Yes si..-" You swiftly turned back but went a little fast and fell right backwards. You were finding yourself on the floor while in a bit of pain.

“Enough with this Tomfoolery.” He sighs, watching you get from the ground. “Sorry, dr. ratio " “It’s Mr. Ratio to you.” “Sorry, Mr. What seems to be the problem?” You scratch the back of your neck, a little nervous. "The math test you did yesterday. Why, no earth, did you get 8 out of 20." 

You might have rushed it a little, so you get out there since you were the only one still doing the test. You didn't know it would be this bad! Now you'll have to do extra work. "really? but I tried my best!" Your words weren't convincing at all to him. "What? Are you trying your best to fail? It's as if you weren't even reading the paper and just doodling on it," he disappointed expression as he turned your test in his hands so you could look at it.

It's just a bunch of cats in black ink and nonsense answers to the questions. "From tomorrow, you're getting extra work," Dr. Ratio goes over to write in his book. You sigh, knowing this is going to happen. 

"come on, it was just a couple of mistakes!" 

"12 incorrect answers."

"I'll do better next! Please!" you clasped your hands together. Hoping he shows you a little mercy, but no, he will never show you any mercy. If you can learn it when he's being nice, he'll beat you instead.

 "you're right; I ensure you’ll get a perfect score.”

if you liked this, consider tipping me on ko-fi! it'd mean a lot!

[rowretro]

𝓜𝓻 𝓑𝓸𝔂𝓯𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭

✧taglist:✧ @strxwbloody

✧warnings: toxic/yandere themes, violence

✧synopsis: Yandere Sunoo, is a young teacher at y/n's high school, the 2 only having a 3-4 year gap. He's so in love with her. She's sweet, cute, loving and sensitive, she's a goddamn pushover and she needs him. Sunoo watches you, he knows everything about you, where you live, what you like, how you feel.

And now he finally has you.... though you're not into him....

✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧

You clutched onto your books, feeling judged as you walk down the hallways. Though the school board were ok with it, and Your parents were even willing to marry you off to Sunoo, there are no barriers for Sunoo. You even tried running away, how stupid of you. Your bruises and cuts were almost healed, thigh high socks hiding them from people's view.

You had to distance yourself from Jungwon too, not because of Yena and her group, who were thankfully expelled, but because of Sunoo. He gets so jealous on an insane level. You heard the locker slam shut, sighing as you knew who it was... Yang Jungwon. Things didn't exactly end the way you hoped they would.

You planned on drifting from him like most friends do, though it was hard, crying at home, missing the one close friend who was there for you no matter what. A boy you possibly had a crush on. You found out he had feelings for you too. However, you were with Sunoo and Won hid his love perfectly, but when you found out, Sunoo forced you to fall out with him, saying she only befriended him and acted nice to use him. She had no other choice but to do just that.

Jungwon gave you a dirty look before walking off. You stood by your locker feeling pretty hurt when you felt someone pat your shoulder. "Y/n, stop daydreaming and get to class... I don't like late comers" Sunoo said as the girl rolled her eyes when he wasn't looking. Sunoo smirked when heard the tapping of her platform heels not too far behind him.

The whole lesson, his eyes were on you. The other students too busy with their essays to even look at Sunoo. Not that he cared anyway. He loved watching you do normal things like studying. The way you sort of fiddle with hair or spin your pencil between your fingers, or doodle artistic little doodles around your work once you're done, waiting for the others to finish So you could start marking them.

"Why was Sungchan talking to you?!" Sunoo asked as you got in the car. "Huh? oh, he wanted me to help him with something" you simply answered as Sunoo stared at you intensely "help him with what?!" he asked, clearly annoyed. "Math homework. Don't worry I said no. He won't bother me anymore..." She added as the male narrowed his eyes at her, but smirked to himself hearing how she handled him.

Upon arriving home, the girl showered first, silently getting changed before going to the living room to do her homework while Sunoo marked some papers. "Sunoo... are clouds edible?" the girl suddenly asked as Sunoo frowned. "No... have you learned nothing in geography?" he asked as the girl shrugged. "I thought it would taste like marshmallows..." the girl mumbled with a pout.

"Y/n what is this?!" Sunoo asked as the girl blinked "test?" she said, blinking innocently as he glared at her, showing her paper and her bestfriend's paper "the same exact answers and you both failed what is this?" "Omg we have the same answers... makes sense we study together... and we took the same exam with the same questions" the girl said acting shocked as Sunoo sighed.

The girl sighed, lying upside down on the sofa, as she switched through the channels. "Sunoo... can I go out with my best friend?... I'm bored..." the girl asked as he stared at her in disbelief. "No. I'm not letting you go out. Last time you almost fucking ran away..." Sunoo pointed out as he squeezed one of her fresher wounds. "Did you learn nothing?...." he asked as the girl winced.

The girl gently pulled away as she sat normally, moving away from Sunoo. "Babe..." Sunoo called out as he sat beside "yes?" the girl asked as Sunoo turned to her "Do you love me?" he asked as the girl went silent. How the fuck could she? he hurt her, he gets dangerously jealous he fucking kidnapped her for the love of god. "yeah..." she said as Sunoo nodded.

"Then say it." He said "Say what?" "Say that you love me." he asked as the girl went silent. "Why you already know I love you right?" the girl asked, nervously chuckling as he stared at her. "You don't love me do you?..." he asked, silence trailing after. "I love you Sunoo..." she said, a forced sincere tone, with hidden venom and disgust. "How comes you never say it or kiss me or hug me or do what girlfriends do?!" he asked as the girl went silent.

"Because you're busy with school work and at school we can't fraternize..." she pointed out as the male nodded. "Hmm... I guess that checks out." he said, leaning over toward her, pulling her into his embrace and kissing her forehead not caring about the girl's unresponsiveness.

[madaqueue]

Practice Makes Perfect | Chapter 4

synopsis: you and yuji have been best friends basically as long as you can remember, and you made a promise to each other to stay friends and help each other be the best versions of yourselves for your future partners. but will things change when yuji finally starts looking for a relationship?

pairing: yuji itadori (18+) x f!reader

themes/content: modern college au (characters aged up to 18+). language, fluff, angst. some suggestive language at the end. 18+, MDNI

word count: 2.0k

a/n: RAAAAAA it’s getting real lmao

previous chapter | series masterlist | next chapter

Sitting towards the back of the room, you take note of the messy black hair and all black clothes. You walk over to him with a smile on your face. “Megumi?” you question.

The boy looks up from his notes and meets your eyes. “Oh, hey, Yuji’s friend. I didn’t know you were in this class,” he says, gesturing at the seat next to him and inviting you to sit.

“I could say the same to you,” you respond, setting down your backpack and getting settled next to him. You have never been this close to Megumi before, and notice his very subtle cologne that leaves a warm and almost smokey scent hanging in the air around him.

“I’m a biology major, so it kinda makes sense I’d have to be here,” he says, turning back towards his notes. You notice a small smirk forming on one side of his mouth as he does so.

As soon as you open your mouth to reply, your professor waltzes in at the front of the lecture hall, her heels softly clacking against the wood floor and the room falls quiet except for her voice. You and Megumi sit in silence for the rest of the class as you furiously scribble in your notes, trying to keep up with what Dr. Ieiri is lecturing on. Halfway into the class you glance over at Megumi’s notes and see he’s just…doodling? His page is full of drawings, from dogs to birds and frogs, covering the lined paper in front of him. He notices you staring and glances up at you out of the corner of his eye before turning his attention back to the paper. His drawing style suddenly shifts as he sketches a new shape. You watch him, mesmerized, as you realize he’s drawing…you?

Dr. Ieiri seems to end abruptly as she dismisses everyone, but you stay seated, waiting for Megumi to finish up his work. He tears the page out of his notebook and hands it to you without a word before putting everything on his desk into his backpack. You begin to pack up, unsure of what to say. After all, nobody has ever drawn you before - are you supposed to thank him? Should you give it back? In a panic, you stutter, “U-um, I’m going to go study at the library, if you want to come with me?”

Megumi glances up at you and softly responds, “Sure,” before tossing his backpack over his shoulder.

–

The two of you find a quiet table in the back corner of the library, dimly lit from the overhead lights and warm afternoon sun pooling in from a nearby window. You get started on your work quietly until Megumi clears his throat. “So, you never answered why you’re in Dr. Ieiri’s class,” he invites.

“Well, I’m an engineering major, but I’m still not sure what kind I want to be yet, so I have to take all these classes that are supposed to help me figure it out, and biology is one of them,” you explain. Megumi nods in response, before you continue, “I know I like to work with my hands, but I also like to think about problems before I have to solve them, which makes it hard to decide on a path. I know I don’t like computers, but I do love math. And I really didn’t expect to like Dr. Ieiri’s class as much as I do, so now I’m not sure,” you trail off. You pause for a moment, hoping you weren’t rambling. “You said you’re a bio major, right? Why’d you choose that? Also, I didn’t see you in her class last week, but we had definitely already met at Yuji’s, and you weren’t really paying attention today-” you stop yourself, realizing you were definitely rambling this time.

Megumi looks down. “Yeah I’m um…I’m actually retaking this class, so I kind of know it already.” You wait for him to continue. “Last fall my sister got really sick. Well, she got more sick, I guess. I had to take some time off to take care of her, so I ended up failing Dr. Ieiri’s class the first time I took it. I was gone last week because my sister was supposed to have this really big surgery and I wanted to be there for her, but they ended up postponing it, so I just stayed at the hospital with her for the rest of the week. She’s actually the reason I’m a bio major - I want to be a doctor so I can help people like her. It’s not fair what happened, and I want to make sure it doesn’t happen to anyone else.” He stops, realizing his hands had formed into fists as he was talking. His body relaxes and he shrugs, trying to ease some of the weight from the information he had just shared with you.

“I think it’s really sweet that you care about your sister so much,” you say. “It sounds like she is really important to you.” Megumi nods, still not looking up from the table. Unsure what else to say, you reach a hand out to touch his shoulder, hoping it provides some comfort. He leans into your touch, resting his cheek on the top of your hand. The feeling of his hair brushing against your arm gives you the ever-familiar butterflies and you try not to visibly blush. The two of you stay like that for a moment, comfortable in the silence, before you hear your phone buzz in your pocket. Megumi lifts his head up so you can use your hand to answer it, and he slowly gets back to work as you pull your phone out and look at it.

Incoming call: “YuYu”

You smile at the nickname he put in your phone for you when he first gave you his number back in highschool. You answer it and hold the phone up to your ear.

“Hey! Sorry I keep calling you randomly, but I have a bit of an emergency. But, this time it’s a good emergency, I promise. Remember that date I was supposed to have tonight? Turns out she can’t go anymore, but I already have a reservation at this new sushi place I have been dying to try, and I knowwwww you love sushi,” he says, and you can practically hear his smile through the phone. “I already know you’re going to say yes, so I’ll meet you at your place at 6:00 and we can walk over together. Oh, and it’s kind of fancy but not too fancy, but don’t worry about it too much! Okay great, I’ll see you then!” he finishes before hanging up.

You didn’t even get a word in for that entire conversation, but it looks like you now have plans tonight. Glancing at your now unlocked phone screen, you realize it’s already almost 5:00. “Shit,” you mutter under your breath. “I’m sorry Megumi, but I have to go,” you say, turning your attention back to the boy across from you.

“No worries,” he says with a soft smile. “This was really nice, we should study again sometime. Here, let me give you my number.” He holds his hand out for your phone and you give it to him, watching him put in his contact information before handing it back to you. You collect your study materials and wave at him as you walk out of the library.

–

When you arrive at the restaurant, you are shocked by Yuji’s definition of “kind of fancy.” The place is absolutely gorgeous, with natural wood and stone forming high ceilings, small fountains and mini waterfalls creating a soothing ambiance as the water collects in a river that winds throughout the restaurant. You walk over small bridges that decorate the interior to reach your table, surrounded by plants that provide some natural privacy. You felt slightly out of place despite wearing your nicest dress and heels, especially compared to Yuji in his black slacks and sport coat. You have to admit, though, the boy does clean up nicely.

Without getting a chance to even look at the menu, Yuji orders for both of you when the server returns. You gently smack his arm from across the table. “Hey, why did you do that? How could you assume what I wanted?” you ask playfully.

“I told you, I know you,” he shrugs. “Besides, dinner is on me since I dragged you out here last-minute. There’s some stuff I’ve been wanting to try ever since this place opened, and I got some things you’ll like, too,” he explains through a toothy grin.

“How generous, getting me things I’ll actually like,” you smirk, rolling your eyes. “Speaking of ‘dragging me here,’ what happened with your date?” you ask, trying to hide any remnants of jealousy.

“Oh, she just had something come up with a friend, but we rescheduled for next week. Plus, after the last practice date kind of went to shit, I figured it would be nice to actually get used to this place before the real-deal,” he says nonchalantly.

For some reason, his words sting more than you expect. Referring to this girl as the real-deal means that he must think you’re less than her, less deserving of his time or energy or-

Your thoughts cut off as an enormous pile of food gets set down on your table. There seems to be everything from nigiri to sashimi and tempura, all of it looking mouth-wateringly good. Yuji thanks the server and immediately starts digging in. Your stomach growls involuntarily and you’re forced to push your thoughts aside as you take a bite.

“Oh, my god,” you practically groan through the rice. “This is insane.”

“Right?” Yuji agrees, his cheeks puffed out from being so full of food.

The two of you eat in silence, savoring the combination of flavors in front of you, until Yuji pulls his phone out of his pocket. He smiles down at it and starts typing a message, and you can almost feel your blood boil. In an attempt to defuse your emotions you glance down at your phone, which unlocks to the recent contact page with Megumi’s information open on it. What the hell you think, typing out a message to send to him.

You: “hey Megumi, thanks for hanging out today, it was really nice”

Your phone buzzes almost immediately.

Megumi: “If this is who I think it is, I agree. Are you free tomorrow? There’s a new cafe off campus that’s really cozy, and I have some exams next week I need to study for. I’d love to see you”

The message makes you feel warm inside - he would love to see you? Of course you have to say yes.

You: “i’m free, how’s 11:00 sound? meet at your place?”

He ‘love’ reacts your message, which you take as affirmation of your plans. You put your phone back into your purse and look back up to see Yuji still smiling down at his phone. “Hey, it’s rude to be on your phone at the table,” you tease, but it comes out more irritated than you intended.

“Sorry, Nobara just said something funny and-” he cuts off, looking up at you realizing he had never told you the name of the girl he actually had feelings for, even though you already knew from seeing her name on his phone this morning.

“Oh, so is this ‘Nobara’ the one you were supposed to take out tonight?” you ask slyly. Yuji just nods blankly, trying to read your facial expressions. “Well, she must be quite special then,” you respond, desperately attempting to shove down any lingering jealousy as you maintain eye contact. “I actually have a date tomorrow, too,” you continue, not looking away from him. He cocks his head to the side, waiting for you to continue and taking another huge bite from the dwindling pile of food between you. “Speaking of which, I actually was hoping to get some practice too…” you trail off. “I want to suck your cock.”

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[snickerzanddoodlez]

U got headcanons?

For Wordgirl? Yes, lots of headcanons!

-Wordgirl and Tobey are both autistic! A fairly common one, but I really like it. (An argument could be made for literally every Wordgirl character, but these are my big ones!)

Wordgirl is shown to have a lot of trouble with being too blunt, being unsure what to do in

For Wordgirl? Well, we see that she’s extremely fixated on both words themselves and Pretty Princess and Magic Pony Power Hour. 

She excels in language (which is due to her being Lexiconian, I’ll admit, but regardless) to the point where she isn’t allowed to compete in certain things anymore, while struggling severely in art related things. She also gets needlessly bothered by words being used incorrectly (any Learnerer episode is a good example of this), which is something I see exhibited by my sister a lot!

She *loves* collecting things for Pretty Princess, and in El Queso Mysterioso we see that she KNOWS IT WELL- even being able to identify the actor for “non-speaking toadstool 51” (or whatever it was) which is also very similar to my sister- she knows voice actors, episode numbers, etc like the back of her hand, it’s almost uncanny (and I mean that in the best way possible)

She’s also shown to have a “different” sense of humor in a way, often being the only one to laugh at her own jokes- and as well as this, she seems to have a hard time “people-ing” sometimes (especially in ways that other characters don’t). She seems to have a hard time holding back her reactions / being “tactful” at times, shown especially in the episode “Judging Butcher”- in my opinion, anyways.

I think the social things specifically could in some situations be defended by “well, Lexiconian culture is different!” but she barely grew up on Lexicon so I don’t think it works.

As far as Tobey, well, I over-analyze every scene he’s in- speaking or not- just because I love him that much, so uh…some of this is more background-y stuff!

In Tobey’s Playground Calamity, he’s shown to cover his ears when the rest of his class claps- “sensory overloads” are common in those on the spectrum and as someone who suffers from those, I absolutely relate 😭 

As well as this, in “Mobot Knows Best” he’s shown to be overwhelmed when Becky and Violet invade his personal space, which is normal, but he seems somewhat distressed / nervous as well as confused, which makes it seem a little different.

He’s also….extremely fixated on robots, which are certainly his special interest (“Special interests are frequently developed by individuals with autism spectrum disorder, expressed as an intense focus on specific topics.”). His room is shown to be entirely robot themed, and he’s always thinking about them, seemingly-

He, as well, seems to have issues socializing. In a scene from “Trustworthy Tobey”, when he’s shown borrowing a book from Tobey, he seems a bit…”tactless”, for lack of a better word(girl), and his bluntness doesn’t seem to be out of carelessness as much as ignorance.

He’s shown to be very blunt and kind of (heavy quotes here) “different”, so….them’s my two cents!

Kid Math is also autistic but I don’t feel the need to defend that one

-Beau canonically loves birdwatching, so I like to imagine he used to have a pet bird named “Chica”! (This is specifically because I once doodled the following stupid interaction:

Beau, holding up a bird: “And this is my pet bird Chica!”

Tommy: “Like from FNAF?”

Beau: “get out of my house”

-Tommy is Seymour Smooth’s son and has been sent onto May I Have a Word as a spy. Belle Stunning is his mother because the layers of drama that adds makes me laugh.

-Scoops’ favorite musical is Newsies.

-Tobey tried to force himself to just latch onto Victoria instead of Becky, which is part of why we see him hanging out with her so much in “Kid Math 1&2”, but he quickly realized that she didn’t like him and he didn’t even like her.

-Kid Math has a crush on Violet. Just look at their little interaction and the foot-kick he does in the Kid Math episodes after talking to her!

-Dr. Two-Brains loves the movie Ratatouille and cries every time he watches it. His Henchmen like the Barbie movies, and Dr. Two-Brains berates them for watching them (but secretly likes a few of them).

[starfiresky]

I’m just venting and sharing my personal thoughts. I’m normally a very happy person, but right now I’m so mad. I’m permitted to do activities for science, and the teacher said I’m only allowed to do one art based activity for the entire year? But what if my brain works artistically? I tried to dance around this by making a physical model of a flower and showing how it works on the inside and then doing a separate activity where I drew a mushroom’s lifecycle and wrote a little paper on it. Those are obviously different projects that I put effort into and learned from.

I got points taken off both projects because they included art. What the heck? Why does school hate art? How do I even do a project without art? I’m so confused. Do I just write a paper? I get belittled for doing the things I find enjoyment in. “Don’t draw on your paper. You’re not listening”, “I’ll take points off if you do art.”

There was this time when I was in 4th grade and I doodled on my test while I was thinking about how to answer a problem. The teacher started YELLING AT ME. She took my test, and told all of the kids to start listening class and to never draw in class. Then she erased my doodle and sent me to the counselors office because I was crying. Long story short, this teacher had created lots of problems for a lot of other kids and she ended up getting fired later on.

But my point still stands. Art is important? Hello? What if we belittled mathematicians for doing math problems and yelled at scientists for doing experiments? Science brained people have such a clear path to college and so many opritunities. Artistic people have to blaze their own path while everyone’s telling them they’re gonna fail.

Let’s talk about this

Movies would be so dumb without music. Movies are important in culture! Video games are all about art and music. Video games are a big form of entertainment. Life without art is not a life at all. Look outside? THE ENTIRE UNIVERSE IS ART. The trees, the sun, the grass, wow! Yeah you can explain the beauty of earth with science, but I feel like we keep ignoring the clear companion to science which is art.

Why are creative people being attacked by AI and pushed down by society?

I know this sweet woman who is so skilled at art. She was told she wasn’t gonna make it financially, so she switched her major to engineering. She is so depressed with life. And she doesn’t have the confidence to go back to school and look into an animation job. What if rocket scientists were belittled and told to go become painters? What the heck?

This is so wrong. You know what else is wrong? Art class! In most schools, there’s only one art class! And it’s an elective, not a core class! As if they’re suggesting that art and music is optional and a lesser skill. 😡 In an age where movies and media are such a big part of society… don’t you think the arts are— idk, valuable?

My dad had a best friend who sucked at school because he thought strictly artistically. He was an amazing creator with a HUGE imagination! He was told that he was stupid and dumb because he couldn’t do math, and he failed multiple grades— but he was the greatest artist I have ever seen. He is no longer with us because he took his own life due to feeling like a failure. 💔

Don’t get me wrong, math and science is beautiful and extremely valuable! But I just wish that schools would acknowledge the beauty in the arts too. Life without art would be the most depressing place on earth. No murals, paintings, doodles, orchestras, ballads, visuals, concept art, video game characters, etc. Art is good for the mental health, why is it that so many people are struggling with mental health nowadays? It could be that the world is telling people to suppress their creative side. ❤️

My two cents. If you’re a science and math brained person, that’s totally okay and I love you! 💕 One of my best friends is obsessed with neurology and I hold her in a high degree of respect. My brother wants to become a surgeon, and my Dad is a doctor. Science is extremely important! This is not a hate post on right brained people ❤️❤️❤️ I’m just frustrated at how artists are often treated.