#Engineering Video Lectures

[magicmarks]

Discover how Magic Marks helps Mechanical Engineering students master cutting-edge technologies through visual learning and expert video lectures. To read the full blog, click the link:

[chanelrolls]

Love and Deepspace Men as College Students AU

pairings. sylus x reader, zayne x reader, rafayel x reader, xavier x reader, caleb x reader

notes. my headcanons of how and what would they be if they were set in an alternate universe of a college setting. requests are open!

SYLUS

Everyone knows Sylus. Whether it’s because of his absurd wealth, the way he dominates the racing scene, or how he carries himself among the crowd, he’s the kind of student people admire from afar but rarely dare to approach.

Definitely owns the most expensive bike on campus. He would pull up to lectures late, engine roaring, only to park in the most inconvenient places. The professors hate it, but no one dares to tell him to stop.

Never attends classes on time. He shows up whenever he feels like it, slides into his seat without a care, and still manages to ace every test like it’s effortless.

His major is a mystery. Seriously. Some say he’s in business because of his family’s influence, others think he’s in engineering because of his obsession with bikes. The truth? He’s studying something completely unexpected. (Design)

The one who gets professors to bend rules. He hands in assignments late, yet somehow convinces the professor to accept them. Probably through sheer confidence and the undeniable fact that his work is always top-tier.

People constantly try to get on his good side. Fake friends, clingy admirers, opportunists, he sees through them all. It’s a rare feat to actually earn his trust.

People think he’s cold, but he’s actually just selective. He doesn’t waste words on people who don’t matter. But when he does care? His presence is all-consuming, and he keeps those people close to him.

Has a reputation for getting into fights. He doesn’t start them, but if someone dares to push him? He ends them. Fast. Brutally. Efficiently.

Despite his reputation he's ridiculously smart. No one expects him to be the guy who casually dismantles complex theories in class. He doesn’t even study much, his mind just works differently.

He doesn't date, at least not publicly. People wonder if he’s ever been in a relationship, but no one has proof. His affairs, if they exist, are shrouded in complete secrecy.

He knows the underground side of the university too well. He’s got plenty connections, some legal, some… not so much. The kind of guy who could get his hands on things no regular college student should have access to.

SCENARIO

It’s late. The campus parking lot is empty, except for the flickering streetlights and the distant hum of a few motorcycles.

You’re walking toward your dorm when you hear the deep purr of an engine slowing to a stop.

You glance over your shoulder. It turns out to be Sylus.

He’s sitting astride his bike, helmet balanced on his thigh, one hand gripping the handlebar loosely. His gaze? Fixed directly on you.

"Didn’t take you for the type to stay out this late," he murmurs, voice low.

You shrug, trying to ignore the way the cold air makes you shiver. "Didn’t take you for the type to care."

A slow, lazy smirk spreads across his lips. "I don’t." A lie. You can tell.

He watches as you move closer, eyes flickering down for a fraction of a secon, too quick, but you catch it anyway. You don't want to make your conversation longer with someone this well-known, so you walk ahead, hoping that that's the end of it. Until you hear him speak again.

"Need a ride?" It’s an invitation wrapped in something dangerous. How unexpected.

You hesitate, then tilt your head. "Why would you...?"

Sylus chuckles deeply, like he wasn’t expecting the challenge. "Guess there’s only one way to find out."

And just like that, he tosses you the helmet. As if he already knew you’d say yes.

ZAYNE

The epitome of a model student; Perfect attendance, straight A’s, every professor’s favorite. If there’s a student the university would use in a promotional video, it’s certainly him.

Teachers' favourite

Always impeccably dressed. Button-down shirts, slacks, polished shoes—never a wrinkle, never a stain. He treats college like a corporate internship, and it shows. He also often walks around with long trench coats, it's his favourite piece of clothing.

Sits in the exact same seat every lecture. Second row, dead center. First row is too eager and attention-seeking, but anything further back is inefficient.

Has the most organized notes you’ve ever seen. Typed, color-coded, formatted like a research paper. If you ask to borrow them, he’ll hesitate before sighing and handing them over.

Never late, never rushed. His schedule is meticulously planned. If he’s ever late, something catastrophic must have happened.

Carries a leather-bound planner around. Digital calendars are unreliable for him. He writes everything down, from deadlines to coffee appointments, in perfect cursive.

He's always chosen as a delegate for external competitions or division-level activities, earning several awards.

Rarely seen at campus cafeterias. If he does eat on campus, it’s either a perfectly balanced meal prepped in advance or something minimal like black coffee and a protein bar.

Always smells expensive. Not overpowering, just subtly present. Clean, crisp, like fresh pages of a book mixed with something chic and sophisticated.

Somehow has dirt on everyone. He doesn’t gossip, but he listens. A passing remark, a detail others overlook, he collects information without even trying, possibly even using those against those people when needed.

Once you earn his attention, it’s hard to shake it off. If he chooses to focus on you, it’s deliberate. And his attention is the kind that lingers, even when he’s gone.

SCENARIO

It’s late. The campus library hums with a quiet stillness, the air thick with the scent of old books and freshly brewed coffee. You’re seated at a wooden desk, buried under an avalanche of textbooks and half-written notes, struggling to finish an assignment.

“Your handwriting is inefficient,” comes a smooth voice from behind you.

You glance up, blinking as Zayne pulls out the chair across from you, uninvited but completely assured of his place there. He sets down a sleek leather journal, flipping it open with precise movements.

You scoff. “Not all of us are programmed for perfection.”

His lips quirk—just slightly. “Clearly.”

You glare, but he’s already scanning your notes, his sharp gaze dissecting your work with effortless precision. Without asking, he reaches over, flips your notebook around, and rewrites an equation.

“You missed a variable.”

You stare at his elegant script, then back at him. “Do you enjoy making people feel incompetent?”

Zayne exhales, amused. “No.”

His fingers brush against yours as he slides your notebook back. It’s fleeting—so subtle you might’ve imagined it.

"Then what?" You ask. But when you meet his gaze, there’s something else there, something unreadable, something intentionally left for you to decipher.

And for the first time tonight, your exhaustion is replaced with something else entirely.

RAFAYEL

Skips classes religiously, claiming the "academic system is a plague on creative minds." He’s only seen in class when he’s legally required to be there—or when he’s bored enough to entertain himself with a professor’s suffering.

If he does attend, expect dramatic sighs, exaggerated eye rolls, and the occasional muttered insult about how the syllabus is “the death of passion.”

Knows everything about everyone. It’s not that he seeks out gossip—it simply comes to him. He has a way of prying secrets out of people with nothing more than a lazy smirk and a well-placed question.

Unapologetically nosy. If you so much as whisper in the hallway, he’s tilting his head, eyes alight with curiosity, waiting for the drama to unfold.

Despite his disdain for academics, he has the highest scores in philosophy and art history—because, according to him, “those are the only things worth knowing.”

Causes scandals effortlessly. One time, he casually implied that two professors were having an affair, and within a week, half the campus believed it. Was it true? He won’t say.

His art is chaotic, emotional, sometimes terrifying, and always raw. Professors either worship him or think he’s insane—there is no in-between.

Constantly broke despite having expensive tastes. Has a habit of buying ridiculously overpriced lattes just for the aesthetic of holding them.

Everyone thinks he’s a flirt, but he’s actually just very comfortable with physical affection. Will drape himself over his friends, lean against them, play with their hair—but the moment it’s turned on him? Flustered beyond belief.

The type to disappear for days and then show up like nothing happened, holding a new painting and a cryptic comment like, “I was emotionally exiled to the mountains.”

Claims to be a “nihilist” but secretly gets way too invested in people’s love lives. Will drop devastatingly accurate predictions about who’s going to break up next.

Often idles in the clinic when it's physical education time, just because he doesn't want to sweat.

SCENARIO

It’s midnight when you find him, half-sprawled on the studio floor, surrounded by unfinished canvases. The room smells like paint thinner and something distinctly him—smoky, a little sweet, like the remnants of a late-night adventure.

“You’re out past curfew,” he drawls, not even looking up. He’s playing with a paintbrush between his fingers, tapping it idly against his knee. “Breaking the rules? How rebellious of you.”

“Rafayel, I need to close this room now. Ms. Evans told me so.” You cross your arms, stepping over a discarded sketchbook. “You aren't allowed in here this late.”

He finally looks up, eyes gleaming with mischief. “No. But neither are you, so now we’re both criminals! How romantic.”

You roll your eyes but step closer anyway. He’s watching you now, head tilted in that way he does when he’s analyzing something—or someone.

“You should go,” you tell him.

“So should you.” His lips twitch. “But instead, you’re here. Seeking me out. Really suspicious of you, but it's okay, I get people who have crushes.”

You sigh, exasperated. “Rafayel—”

“Shh.” He shifts, suddenly closing the space between you, paint-streaked fingers brushing against your wrist. His touch is warm, even through the cold air of the studio.

“I have a theory,” he murmurs, voice lower now, softer. “I think you like me.”

Your heart stumbles. “Excuse me?”

“I think,” he continues, ignoring your attempt at indignation, “that you pretend I annoy you, but you keep coming back.” His fingers trail higher, barely grazing the inside of your wrist. “I think you’re more interested than you want to admit.”

You swallow hard, pulse betraying you. “You’re insufferable.”

He grins. "That's what you like about me."

XAVIER

Rarely speaks in class, but when he does, it’s always something unexpectedly insightful. Professors are lowkey impressed.

His navigation skills are atrocious. He’ll confidently walk into the wrong lecture hall, sit through 20 minutes of an advanced physics course before realizing he’s supposed to be in philosophy.

Has a perfectly neutral expression 99% of the time. No one ever knows what he’s thinking, and it drives people crazy.

Falls asleep in the most inappropriate places. He’s been found dozing off in stairwells, under trees, and even once, standing up in a crowded elevator.

He doesn’t understand social norms at all. If someone tells him a joke, he’ll just stare at them before giving a delayed, monotone “Ha. Ha.”

Awkward in a way that somehow makes him more attractive. He doesn’t try to be charming, and yet, that’s what makes people drawn to him.

Has absolutely no idea he’s a campus heartthrob. People whisper about him, but he’s too oblivious to notice.

Has an oddly intense gaze. Even if he’s not trying to be, the way he stares at people makes it feel like he’s reading their soul.

Carries a handkerchief like some 19th-century nobleman. And yes, he will hand it to you if you’re crying.

Oblivious to flirting. Someone could directly say, “I like you,” and he’d just nod and go, “Noted.”

His humor is so dry it’s almost undetectable. Half the time, you can’t tell if he’s joking or being serious. One time he approached you suddenly while you read a book about being different, "How many yous would I find in the next school year?" Huh? "Being different, right?"

The most inconveniently attractive person on campus. He’s not trying, but the rolled-up sleeves, the lazy ruffled hair, the calm but unreadable expression? Yeah. It’s a problem.

A student council member but always absent during meetings.

SCENARIO

It’s late, probably too late to be out walking around campus. But here you are, beside Xavier, the cool autumn air pressing in around you.

“You should go back to your dorm,” he says, his voice as calm as ever. “It’s getting late.”

“You’re literally out here too.”

He tilts his head, like he hadn’t considered that. “…Fair point.”

The two of you walk in silence for a while, the faint glow of streetlights casting long shadows over the pavement. He doesn’t say much, but that’s normal. Being with Xavier isn’t about filling space with words.

Then, out of nowhere...

“Do you want to hold hands?”

You nearly stumble. “What?”

He just looks at you, expression unreadable. “It’s statistically safer to walk in pairs. Handholding ensures proximity.”

You narrow your eyes. “That’s… the worst excuse I’ve ever heard.”

He shrugs. “I know.” But his hand is right there, fingers slightly curled, waiting.

After a beat, you sigh and take it. His grip is warm, steady—but then, a slight squeeze. A tiny motion, but enough to send a shiver up your spine.

When you glance up at him, there’s something different in his expression. Just for a second, an almost-smirk. A teasing, knowing glint in his eyes.

Like he’s enjoying this.

You squeeze his hand back.

And he lowers his head to smile.

CALEB

The golden boy of the campus. He’s effortlessly popular—everyone knows him, everyone likes him, but he doesn’t care for any of it.

A natural-born athlete. Captain of the basketball team, but he’s also good at soccer, swimming, and anything that involves physical endurance. He lives for competition.

Too charismatic for his own good. People are drawn to him, but he keeps a natural distance, his warm exterior masking the fact that his attention is extremely selective.

Flirty without meaning to be. It’s not intentional. He’s just too smooth, and it drives people crazy. A smirk here, a casual arm around someone’s shoulders, it all means nothing to him.

Has had dozens of love confessions, but never accepted a single one. No one knows why.

Straightforward and assertive. If he wants something, he takes it. If he doesn’t like someone, they know.

Has a ridiculous amount of stamina. Can play a full game, go to the gym, and still have energy left to pick someone up and carry them effortlessly.

Would rather fight than argue. He’s not one for petty debates, he settles things physically or with an unshakable finality in his tone.

Territorial as hell. His seat in the cafeteria? His parking spot? His people? All his. No one touches them.

Cooked once during a cookery lesson and was annoyingly good at it. Now people keep begging him to make food, but he only ever does it for someone specific.

A terrible tutor. He has zero patience for slow learners and will resort to bribing, challenging, or outright intimidating someone into getting the right answer.

He doesn't always resort to violence, no. When someone pisses him off, tying the person's bag around their chair is all that he needs to do. Sometimes, secretly putting huge rocks inside the bagpack.

Cannot sit still for long periods. He’s either tapping his foot, spinning a pen, or stretching every five minutes.

Despite his unpredictability, he's ranked as the valedictorian of his batch.

SCENARIO

The student lounge is crowded. People are chatting, studying, and lazily scrolling through their phones between classes. You’re sitting on one of the couches, laughing at something your friend just said when Caleb suddenly slides into the seat next to you.

No warning. Just an unbothered, entirely possessive claim of the space beside you.

“Hey—” You barely have time to react before he does something even bolder.

His arm slings over the back of the couch, effectively caging you in. His fingers tap lazily against your shoulder, casually.

You turn, confused. “Caleb…?”

He doesn’t look at you. He’s staring at your friend instead with a forced smile, his usual easygoing nature laced with something colder.

“Are you leaving?” Caleb asks in a deceptively polite tone.

Your friend hesitates. Then, after a forced chuckle, stands up. “I—yeah, I have class.”

They’re gone in seconds.

You blink, not being able to say anything.

“What?” Caleb finally turns to you, his smirk lazy, but his eyes? Entirely unrepentant.

You frown. “You didn’t have to do that.”

He hums, tilting his head slightly, watching you too closely.

“Didn’t I?”

The implication hangs in the air. Like he knows something you don’t. Like he’s already decided what’s his.

[cami040405]

This one is solely because of a video I seen but whatever

Bo reacting to his s/o, who knows nothing abbot cars, convincing him to do her oil change but when he checks there’s just… like no oil and she’s like “I keep my car CLEAN >:)” as if he’s not horrified

Oneshot: No Oil, No Problem - Bo Sinclair x Reader

Summary: When Bo checks your car for an oil change, he finds the engine bone-dry—and learns you “cleaned out the dirty oil” to keep things tidy. Horrified, Bo launches into a dramatic, sarcastic lecture on how engines actually work and somehow still ends up holding you close while questioning all his life choices.

A/N: I loved this request, I confess that it took me a while to write it because I also had to take some private lessons about cars (With my father who, not ironically, is very similar to Bo explaining things). But I loved writing this oneshot, I hope you like it.

You'd always admired Bo’s hands.

Grease-stained, scarred, a little calloused — the kind of hands that could rebuild an engine or snap a neck with equal ease. Maybe that’s why you asked him to check your car’s oil. Not because you thought anything was wrong, exactly. But because watching him work always did things to you.

And Bo? Well, he always got a little smirk when you asked for help. Grumbling like you were inconveniencing him, but already reaching for his rag and heading outside like some backwoods grease god with a martyr complex.

“Could you do my oil change, babe?”

That was how it started.

“You just got it done a couple months ago,” he muttered as he walked toward your car, swiping his cap off to run a hand through his hair. “Ain’t no reason it’d be—”

The moment the hood clicked open, he cut himself off.

You leaned beside him, smiling proudly, as if you were about to be knighted for vehicular responsibility. Bo pulled the dipstick out, stared at it. Eyebrows drew low. He wiped it clean, stuck it back in, pulled it out again.

Still nothing.

“…The fuck?” he muttered.

You tilted your head, chewing your lip in what you hoped was a cute way. “Is that bad?”

He looked at you like you’d asked if gas was optional.

“Bad?” Bo’s voice dropped low, dangerous, with a hint of what-the-hell-am-I-dealing-with rasp. “There ain’t a drop of oil in this goddamn thing.”

You beamed like you’d passed a test. “Right?! I noticed that too.”

Bo froze.

Slowly, painfully, like someone in a horror movie realizing the monster was already in the house.

“…You noticed?”

“Yeah!” you said, nodding confidently. “I saw it was all dark and sticky, and it didn’t smell good, so I cleaned it.”

Bo blinked. “You… cleaned it.”

“Mhm,” you said, holding your hands up like you were revealing a magic trick. “I keep my car clean.”

There was a long, long pause.

You watched Bo take a slow step back from the car, eyes wide, nostrils flaring like a bull about to charge. His mouth opened—then closed. Then opened again.

“…You cleaned out the oil.”

“Yes.”

“With what.”

“I dunno. Paper towels, I think? And I used some soap around the edges—”

“Jesus CHRIST—”

Bo’s voice cracked mid-word, hands flying up like he couldn’t decide whether to strangle you or hug you out of sheer disbelief. He pointed a shaking finger at the engine.

“You can’t—you don’t just CLEAN the oil out, baby. That ain’t how cars work!”

“But it was gross!”

“IT’S SUPPOSED TO BE GROSS! It’s engine oil! Not perfume! It don’t gotta smell like goddamn lavender, it’s there to keep the whole damn engine from seizin’ up!”

You blinked. “…Is that what the loud knocking noise was last week?”

Bo’s whole body jerked like someone just threw cold water on him.

“Oh my fucking— YES. That’s your engine begging for mercy. Screamin’ to God, hopin’ someone with sense would check on it!”

“But I asked you to!” you defended, pouting. “So technically I did do the right thing.”

Bo stared at you, jaw slack.

“Oh, sure,” he drawled, voice laced with biting sarcasm. “Sure, you’re a real damn hero, sugar. Maybe next time you’ll ‘clean’ the brake fluid out too. Or flush the transmission with lemonade. Just polish it all up till the car dies sparkly and stupid.”

“…Would lemonade work?”

Bo looked like he aged ten years on the spot.

You couldn’t help it—you laughed. He looked so betrayed, but also weirdly impressed that someone as pretty as you had this much chaotic energy rattling around in your skull. You leaned against the car, eyes bright.

“I was just trying to be proactive!”

“Proactive?! You’re gonna be walkin’ if you keep bein’ proactive like that.”

You reached over and poked his bicep. “C’mon, you love fixing stuff.”

“I love fixin’ machines, not acts of sabotage disguised as maintenance.”

Still, he was already pulling his ratty oil jug from the garage, grumbling the whole way.

“This thing’s lucky it didn’t throw a rod. You’re lucky I love you more’n I love sanity.”

You grinned, eyes glittering. “Aww. Bo Sinclair, protector of dumbasses.”

“Damn right,” he muttered, pouring in the oil with a practiced hand. “But next time? You even think about goin’ near an engine with a paper towel, I’m takin’ your keys and lockin’ you in the damn shed.”

“Hot,” you said casually.

He gave you a look. “You’re hopeless.”

You kissed his cheek, leaving a little smudge of lip gloss behind.

“And you’re stuck with me.”

He sighed.

Yeah. He was.

But God help your car. 

It took Bo all of five minutes to change your oil. Not because it was an easy job — oh no — but because he was fueled entirely by rage, disbelief, and the desperate urge to make sure you never, ever did something that stupid again.

By the time he’d slammed the hood down, wiped his hands, and kicked the oil jug back toward the garage, he had That Look on his face. The one that usually came before a lecture, a storm, or him throwing a wrench across the room.

And sure enough, he crossed his arms, stared you down, and said:

“Sit your ass down.”

“…What?”

He pointed to the old wooden stool next to his workbench. “Sit.”

You blinked. “Are you… are you giving me a car lesson?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Damn straight I am.”

“But—”

“You lost the right to argue when you windexed your dipstick, baby.”

You snorted. “I didn’t Windex it.”

“You cleaned it with a Lysol wipe. Don’t split hairs with me.”

With a dramatic sigh and a secretly thrilled little flutter in your chest, you plopped down on the stool. Bo stood behind the bench, rummaging through some old paperwork, muttering to himself until he found what he was looking for: a stained, half-torn page from some ancient car manual, and — God help you — a pen.

“Lesson one,” he grunted, slapping the page onto the bench. “This’s your engine. It’s got moving parts. Fast ones. Metal on metal. Friction. Heat. That’s why you need—say it with me—oil.”

You blinked. “…O…il?”

“Goddamn genius,” he muttered.

He uncapped the pen like a teacher about to ruin someone’s Saturday morning, and started sketching a lopsided engine block, complete with dramatic arrows and what you thought were pistons, though one looked suspiciously like a hot dog.

“This,” he said, stabbing the paper, “is where the oil goes. It keeps all them little parts movin’ smooth. Without it, they grind together. Get too hot. Snap. Crack. Boom.”

He leaned forward, eyes narrowed.

“That knockin’ sound you heard? That was your car knockin’ on death’s door.”

“…But it’s fine now, right?”

“It’s fine ‘cause I fixed it.”

You shrugged. “That’s why I asked you.”

Bo’s hands dropped to the bench with a loud thud, and he let out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a full-body exorcism.

“Woman, you got one brain cell, and it’s takin’ a nap!”

“But a very clean nap.”

Bo squinted at you like he was mentally bracing for your funeral.

Then he pointed the pen at you, slowly, like a knife.

“You are banned from opening that hood. Ever again. Matter fact, I’m tapin’ it shut. Supergluin’ it. Don’t even look at it. If the check engine light comes on, you tell me. If it makes a funny noise, you tell me. If a single fluid drips, squeaks, smells weird, or explodes, you tell me. You do not clean it. You do not guess. You do not touch anything that requires more than windshield wiper fluid.”

You raised a finger. “Can I clean that?”

He looked at you for a long moment. Then sighed and muttered, “God help me, yeah. Just… supervised.”

You smirked. “Yes, Mr. Sinclair.”

That earned you a glare and a finger wag. “I ain’t kiddin’. You scared the shit outta me. You keep runnin’ a dry engine and I’ll be buryin’ you with the damn thing when it dies.”

You stood up, stretching with a satisfied little smile, walking around the workbench to wrap your arms around his neck. He tensed, still bristling with mechanical fury, but his hands automatically settled at your hips.

“But you do love me,” you said sweetly.

“I love a challenge,” he growled.

You kissed the corner of his jaw. “I’m your favorite headache.”

“You’re my whole migraine.” But his grip tightened a little, and his voice softened just enough to betray him. “Don’t mean I want you stranded on the highway ‘cause you wanted to play house with your oil filter.”

You grinned. “So… when’s lesson two?”

He huffed. “Lesson two is me takin’ your keys for a week.”

“Rude.”

“I’ll give ‘em back when I stop havin’ nightmares about you puttin’ bath bombs in your radiator.”

“…Oh my God that’s such a good idea—”

“SIT DOWN AGAIN.”

.

[berrryparfait]

Can o request college au with caleb and or sylus where they’ve been dating since high school and reader doesn’t go to college since she’s a freelance artist but sometimes go to her man’s courses to just be near them while she works. I like to imagine the teacher asking for a volunteer to answer a multiple choice question, and reader who picked up some information, raises her hand and answers it, and get is right

friendly competition . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

— ༉‧₊ᐟ featuring: finance! sylus, engineering! caleb x artist! fem!reader

— ༉‧₊ᐟ word count: sylus – 1.1k | caleb – 1k

— ♫₊ᐟ soundtrack: acting my age – the academic

✧ a/n: thank you so much for the request love! sorry this took a whole week TT... i really love writing college aus because the idea of the boys (alongside reader ofc) figuring out what they want in life and chasing their dreams is so heartwarming to me <3

You haven’t seen Sylus in, what, two weeks? The both of you have been so busy lately—him with his presentations on hedge funds and you with the flurry of commissions you’d just received—being in a relationship is beginning to feel like a part-time job.

I should probably go visit him… But when? He’s always in school… An idea strikes you then: crash one of his lectures and impress him with some economic knowledge of your own. I mean, hey, you’re well read and up to date on current affairs. You refuse to believe it would be impossible to outsmart a few students in that class—at least in a few select topics.

Besides, your main objective is to spend some quality time with him, anyway. You’ve been missing him so much lately it hurts, and nighttime video calls are only a temporary consolation. You’ll surprise him with your knowledge in class, take his breath away all over again, and remind him who’s really boss.

Game on.

…

The lecture hall is grander than you expected, with elaborate framework and likely the most sophisticated soundproofing you’ve ever seen. It’s an artistic marvel in itself, and your heart leaps at the sight of it. Anticipation pumps through your veins as you search the crowd of students for your boyfriend. Tall, white hair, red eyes… You simply can’t miss him.

There. He’s sitting next to a friend somewhere in the middle of the theater, sharp concentration written on his face. The class hasn’t even started and he’s already scribbling away on his textbook with a very familiar ballpoint pen. Aww, the one I gave him for his birthday…?

You have to remind yourself to breathe just looking at him in that black button-down, the hard edges of his jaw and cheekbones squeezing your heart like the first inversion of a rollercoaster ride. God, he’s gorgeous.

You find a seat a few rows up, closer to the right, giving you an unobstructed view of him from behind. Good, he hasn’t noticed me yet.

The professor walks in then, a lean, elegant lady wearing a gray suit and stilettos. She looks intimidating. Imposing. Ready to humble every single person sitting in this class. “Good morning, students. Today we’re starting on derivatives.” You can tell by the way the entire class falls silent that she’s someone who knows her stuff. The way she commands attention seems effortless. “Can anyone tell me what a derivative is?”

A hand goes up almost instantly, and you don’t have to look to know whose it is. A deep, rich voice echoes through the lecture hall, equally as commanding as the professor’s. “A derivative is an instrument of sorts, derived from the value of a stock, interest rate, bond…” He trails off, waving a hand as if to say the list goes on. “They’re like contracts. They protect you from risks, market fluctuations… Derivatives help you speculate on how something else moves.”

The professor’s satisfaction is obvious. She smiles and resumes her pacing. “Thank you, Sylus. An excellent answer.” You can tell he’s the star student here. “Now, would anyone like to share with the class an example of a derivative?”

Sylus answers again when no one else makes a move to, and once again his answer brings a grin to her face. You listen to his responses with rapt attention, trying to absorb as much as possible. You understand what’s being discussed. It’s…interesting.

“Another question. Give me an example of a real company using derivatives to hedge currency risk.”

This question, you just might be able to answer. You’d heard of an animation company based in Linkon using currency forwards to secure exchange rates. Here goes nothing.

You raise your hand at the same time Sylus does. Surprise flickers across the professor’s face, but she looks equally delighted to see a fresh face shoot their shot at contributing to the class. She gestures at you and beckons for you to answer.

“I have an example that hits close to home.” You go on about currency forwards and investor confidence and budgeting, using simpler phrases in place of technical terms where the gaps in your understanding lie. The professor nods at you in understanding, and you feel Sylus’ eyes under your skin as they slowly find their way to yours, equally shocked and impressed to see you in his lecture hall, challenging him to a death battle.

What are you doing here? he asks with his gaze. You raise a cheeky brow and give him a smirk to match his, shrugging your shoulders.

The professor doesn’t notice your blush as she commends your valiant effort, and the sudden academic validation makes you blush even harder.

You take turns answering the next few questions, correcting each other and adding on when the opportunity presents itself. Your heart and mind race in tandem as you let your competitive streak intertwine with his, and the feeling is indescribable.

In this theater, it’s just you, him, and the explosive crackle of flirtatious banter.

“O-Okay, you two! That’s enough!” The professor ends the pop quiz then, and you turn around to see the entire lecture hall staring at the two of you like you’ve both grown second heads.

The debate may have ended for now, but the devilish look on his face tells you you’re in for a whole lot more.

…

Everyone gets up to leave the moment class ends, but Sylus makes his way up the stairs to you. He’s grinning that devastating smile again, and you know you’re in trouble. “Missed me?”

You roll your eyes and struggle to fight a smile of your own. “You wish. I only came here to learn more about financial instruments.” You toss your hair proudly, looking down your nose at him despite his obvious height. “Which, it appears, I do not require much tutelage on.”

He squints at you, a cocky grin twisting his mouth. “Are there…other subjects in which you’re an expert?” He takes a step closer to you, the subtle scent of his cologne filling your nostrils. “I found that speech of yours on currency swaps very…intriguing.”

“Take a day off with me and find out. Consider it a business deal.”

“Done. You have my word that I’ll be investing a hundred percent into our mutual pleasure.”

“It can’t be that hard…” you tease, earning you an agitated grunt in response. You can’t help it—rage baiting Caleb is just too easy.

“Do you know how tough of a course mechanical engineering is? It’s rigorous, it’s complex, it’s—it’s…” he trails off then. “You’re joking, aren’t you,” he says flatly, realization taking its sweet time to kick in.

You giggle, holding the phone closer to your ear. You haven’t seen him in two weeks, and you miss him like crazy. Who else is going to remind you to take your meals, to drink enough water? Who else is going to hold you in the middle of the night when you have a bad dream? God, you hate this whole “college” arrangement. But you couldn’t be prouder of him for working towards his dreams.

“It’s late. Goodnight, Caleb.” A wave of sadness crashes into you, sobering you.

“Goodnight, Pips. See you in a week.”

He hangs up just as a crazy idea pops into your head. What if you didn’t have to wait a whole week to see him in the flesh? His college is a two-hour drive away from you. It isn’t impossible. It would be one hell of a date.

Gear up, engineer. I’m going to show you just how much I know.

…

The campus is vast and beautiful, autumn-colored trees sandwiched between every historical building and tower. You shouldn’t be this surprised, given its status as one of the most prestigious universities in the country. Is this where he goes to school everyday? Damn…

With great difficulty, you finally find the lecture hall he should be sitting in right now. You’re a good fifteen minutes late, but if you’re going to crash a college class, you might as well do it with a bang.

You push the large wooden doors open as discreetly as possible and try your best not to wince as you feel every single pair of eyes in the room fall on you. Sitting somewhere in the front is Caleb, whose blue and orange jacket you recognise instantly. He startles slightly at the sight of you, but his shock is quickly replaced with a smug curiosity. Come to lose? he taunts with a smirk, slender fingers tapping his pen on the table to a steady rhythm.

A casual, relaxed expression settles over your features. You wish, you smirk back, taking a seat across the row from him. Thankfully, the professor doesn’t seem to notice your presence as he scribbles annoyingly complex equations and formulas on the chalkboard.

He pivots suddenly, a fresh brightness lighting up his wrinkled face. It’s easy to understand why these students are so passionate about the subject. The old man is thrice their age, yet thrice as lively.

“Class,” he begins, his voice wobbly and unyielding at the same time, “we’re going to touch on stress-strain curves today, and I want everyone’s full and undivided attention. Now, can anyone tell me what a stress-strain curve is?”

Caleb’s hand shoots up like a laser. “It shows you how a material behaves under a load, and allows engineers to gauge how much that material can hold before it snaps.” He adds on, infuriatingly, “In layman’s terms.”

“Good,” the professor remarks. “Would anyone like to add on to that?”

Hell yeah, this is your chance to strike. You might not know much about the math behind it, but having lived in Linkon your whole life, heavy buildings are like trees to you.

You raise your hand. “Sir, many of the skyscrapers in Linkon’s financial district had been meticulously designed and constructed over the course of a decade. It wasn’t just the steel and concrete that required extensive stress-strain calculations, but the aesthetic elements as well. Not to mention the added element of inertia during periods of high winds.” You pause to glance over at Caleb, who looks like he wants to eat you. “That’s architecture and engineering in bed together, doing unspeakable things.”

That strange glint in his eye intensifies.

Fortunately, the lewd joke goes over the professor’s head. “What an interesting perspective. I don’t believe I’ve seen you in class before. Are you a transfer student, perhaps?”

You lean back in your seat and reply, “No, sir, I usually sit in the back of the hall.”

“Why the sudden change of heart?”

You turn to meet Caleb’s eye once more, and your skin flushes embarrassingly pink. “Let’s just say I’ve acquired a special interest in nuts and bolts recently.”

Now it’s Caleb’s turn to blush. “Someone hasn’t been paying attention in class.” You stick your tongue out at him, making him laugh.

For the remainder of the lesson, you both take turns answering the professor’s carefully crafted questions, with him tackling the technical aspects and you pointing out the practical. It’s a mentally stimulating back and forth that makes you wonder why you’ve never crashed one of his classes before. It’s so…fun.

…

By the time everyone is dismissed, you’ve gained a renewed thirst for knowledge that can only be quenched by one thing: going out for a meal with your boyfriend. That is—if he’d even look at you. His face is flushed and his throat has seemingly gone dry.

“Hope I didn’t make it too hard for you,” you muse as the last group of students leaves the hall.

He glares at you while taking a desperate sip of water from his bottle, his perfect lashes making your heart race all over again. “You wish. I went easy on you.”

“Oh, admit it. I bested you. No shame in that, you know.”

“Just you wait, Pips. You’ll be eating your words by the time I’m done with you tonight.”

Your mouth goes dry then and there, and you understand now why he had to take so many sips of water, “Am I being punished for crashing your class?”

“Let’s just say you’ll know what a real stress-strain curve looks like by tomorrow morning.”

— ⋆˙⟡ ©berrryparfait

《 please do not copy / plagiarize / translate my works or publish them on any other platforms. 》

[giuseppe-yuki]

rancher!oscar piastri x reader headcanons

random headcannons for my fic come over, baby! (shameless promo 😔) *headcannons might not make total sense without reading aforementioned fic

the farm

after The Situation™, mama piastri is more than welcome of your presence at the family home

door has to be OPEN during the day though (she sends basil to guard the door)

you and hattie become besties and bond through bullying oscar <3

you hang out on their family farm during breaks from college so much nicole has assigned you chores to do as well

namely watering the garden and collecting the eggs in the early morning

oscar loves tagging along (only so he can take the chance to make out with you behind the chicken coop cause he can't when his sisters and his mother are in the house with y'all)

y'all are banned from the atv to travel around during morning chores because.. yeah.

when fall comes, apple picking in the family orchard!!!

although you may be a city girl, you know how to make a bomb apple pie

nicole makes cider :)

its nice to drink, curled up in oscar's bed with a classic movie illegally streamed on his laptop.

(most of the times, the movie doesn't get watched, anyways)

the apartment

your parents live in a fancy schmancy apartment in the city

they're always away on business trips or vacations so you basically have free reign to use the apartment when they're away

when you invite oscar for a "sleepover" in the apartment when your parents are in malibu for a random vacation, he gets excited at the prospect of seeing how you grew up in the city

baffled of your lack of backyard

no fresh eggs 💔 ? ?

"jesus christ, can the cars SHUT UP?" - oscar at 12am

he likes to watch the shiny supercars that sometimes pop up on the streets below rev their engines and zoom past your balcony

gets a little sick from looking down from a high height though, since the apartment is located near the 20th floor

"holy cow, do you think this is what being a cloud feels like??" - oscar leaning dangerously precariously off your balcony

college

when you both are not at oscar's house for break or your family apartment in the city, you both are at school

oscar studies engineering (duh)

since you study a whole nother field, you are located on the other side of the campus, which is kind of annoying

he likes to walk you to your classes even when that means he is going to be late to his own lectures.

(he knicks the notes off of his mate lando, anyways)

commonly sends you stupid videos in the middle of your lectures

often takes you out for lunch in his banged-up weird-orange pick-up truck that most likely has engine problems

study sessions in the library!! (he gets overwhelmed by your flashcards and you almost cry looking at his physics problems)

when essays are written and worksheets filled out, you sleep at oscar's dorm (the RAs in your female-only dorm crash out if they find out - god forbid - a boy is in your room)

oscar likes kicking his poor roomie (lando) out for a few hours when y'all get more intimate lmaoooo

a/n: lil headcannons to fill in the time while i work on my full fics :)

as always, my inbox is open to all your thoughts, headcannons, or questions for any of my works! (no fic requests please!)

[thechaoticdruid]

°•IF THE BG3 COMPANIONS BABYSAT YOUR KIDS!•°

Lae'zel

Congratulations your children are spending an afternoon at boot camp!

You can rest assured they will be treated fairly at least.

No favoritism going on here.

Anyone who misbehaves shall be sent to solidarity confinement and left there until....Idk

If they want a snack they WILL have to fight one another in a duel to the death.

Or at least until one of them falls down and cries.

To the winner go the cookies.

Or more accurately maybe some giant space hamster jerky.

Karlach

This is assuming her engine has been fixed, naturally.

The kids absolutely love Auntie K.

Legit can carry them all on her shoulders at once.

She gives the best hugs too and is always so nice and warm.

She is up to play any games with them! Especially ones where she pretends to be a monster and chases them around.

Very protective of the little ones.

Brings them new stuffies each time she visits.

You MUST remind her constantly to watch her language around the little ones!

Gale

Arrives via magic portal.

Brings Tara to help him.

Takes it very personally if one of the children don't like him.

Tries to impress them via magic and creates a magical illusion to entertain the kiddos.

Attempts to teach them everything he knows about the weave.

Takes it very hard if the children fall asleep during his lecture.

Must be consoled by Tara.

If any take an interest in the weave they immediately become his favorite.

You'll probably end up coming home to your home appliances floating or having some kind of enchantment on them.

Halsin

Yes he turns into a bear and lets them ride on his back.

Most time is spent outside enjoying nature and all of its beauty.

Will carry the littlest one on his shoulders at all times.

Always brings healthy snacks, mostly fruit like apple slices.

Proceeds to take them to a nearby pond to feed the ducks.

Widdles them little animal figures to play with.

No TV or video games. The thought of technology taking over their lives makes him sick.

We play outside or we don't play at all.

Doesn't mind them grabbing at his ears, if they can even reach them that is!

He has to remind one of them multiple times that he unfortunately cannot turn into a dragon.

Sad sad truth.

Shadowheart

Makes cute little flower crowns with them.

Helps the little ones feel better if any of them are afraid of the dark.

Is very good at comforting them.

Possibly might be one of the older one's first goth girl crush.

Badmouths Lae'zel in front of them shamelessly.

Always puts on a tim Burton movie or something for them to watch.

Definitely the reason for any of their emo phases.

They think she's really cool though.

Wyll

Always the first to volunteer to babysit.

Man has the patience of a saint and can handle even the most unruly of children.

Always talks them up and is very careful to never put them down.

Tells them all kinds of exciting stories of his time as the Blade.

Makes sure to adjust them to be suitable for the kiddos.

Leaves out the scary parts.

If any of them are mean to one another and can't get along he's the type to make them each say something nice about the other as a punishment.

Let's them play with toy swords and teaches them a thing or two about using them.

Never raises his voice at them. Is super calm and collected.

Loves them all to pieces!

Also may or may not take them out to get ice cream if they're good.

Astarion

Assuming this is Spawnstarion we're talking about because the vampire Ascendant would just laugh in your face if you asked him then slam the door on you.

Our sweet little spawn will also likely laugh and think you're joking at first.

"You seriously want a vampire to watch over your children?"

Assuming you pay him and be sure to give him big sweet puppy dog eyes he may consider it.

This man is a very not my child not my problem kind of guy.

Gets annoyed with all the children asking tedious vampire questions and responds with very sarcastic answers.

Does not approve of them wanting to touch his ears.

Agrees to let them see his fangs in hopes to scare them (the mischievous little shit).

The children instead think they're cool, which confuses him. He really isn't sure how to feel about it.

Threatens to eat them if they get on his nerves.

Spends most of the time on the sofa, boredly reading a magazine or watching television.

Miraculously takes a shine to one of the younger girls who call him pretty and compliments his clothes and hair.

This is also given the girl is a little mischief gremlin who pulls pranks on her older siblings.

He lets her paint his nails purple or red while she gossips about her mother/father's new partner or her siblings.

Unapologetically shows her favoritism and lets her sit on his lap and watch TV with him.

Will not bat an eye if the other children run a muck and destroy shit.

Legit just keeps watching TV. Probably some drama filled 'reality' show.

He actually finds the chaos caused by the children quite amusing.

One of the children somehow ends up on the roof.

Once the parents are home and it's time to leave. The youngest girl gives him a hug.

His eyes get all big and round and almost threaten to tear up.

Astarion is not asked to babysit again.

Sorry some of them are so short, I mostly write for Astarion so I'm not very confident at doing the other characters.

Hope you like it though!

[ikiprian]

Barbara Gordon's Coding & Computer Cram School is a popular YouTube series. Tucker Foley is a star student.

Barbara Gordon's Cram School posts free online courses for both coding and computer engineering. Think Crash Course in terms of entertainment, but college lecture in terms of depth. Hundreds of thousands of viewers flock to it— students who missed a class, people looking to add new skills to a resume, even simple hobbyists. It’s a project Barbara’s proud of.

Sometimes, when she wants to relax, she’ll even hop in the comments and spend an afternoon troubleshooting a viewer’s project with them.

User “Fryer-Tuck” has especially interesting ones. Barbara finds herself seeking out his comments, checking in on whatever this crazy kid is making next. An app for collecting GPS pings and assembling them on a map in real-time, an algorithm that connects geographic points to predict something’s movement taking a hundred other variables into account, simplified versions of incredibly complex homemade programs so they can run on incredibly limited CPU’s.

(Barbara wants to buy the kid a PC. It seems he’s got natural talent, but he keeps making reference to a PDA. Talk about 90’s! This guy’s hardware probably predates his birth.)

She chats with him more and more, switching to less public PM threads, and eventually, he opens up. His latest project, though, is not something Barbara has personal experience with.

FT: so if you found, hypothetically, a mysterious glowing substance that affects tech in weird and wacky ways that could totally have potential but might be vaguely sentient/otherworldly…. what would you do and how would you experiment with it. safely, of course. and hypothetically

BG: I’d make sure all my tests were in disposable devices and quarantined programs to keep it from infecting my important stuff. Dare I ask… how weird and wacky is it?

FT: uhhh. theoretically, a person composed of this substance once used it to enter a video game. like physical body, into the computer, onto the screen? moving around and talking and fighting enemies within the game?

FT: its been experimented with before, but not on any tech with a brain. just basic shields and blasters and stuff, its an energy source. also was put in a car once

FT: i wanna see how it affects software, yk? bc i already know it can. mess around and see how far i can push it

BG: […]

FT: … barbara?

BG: Sorry, thinking. Would you mind sharing more details? You said “blasters?”

Honestly. Kid genius with access to some truly wacky materials and even wackier weapons, she needs to start a file on him before he full sends to either hero or villain.

[OR: Tucker is a self-taught hacker, but if he were to credit a teacher, he'd name Barbara Gordon's Coding & Computer Cram School! He's even caught the attention of Dr. Gordon herself. She's full of sage advice, and with how she preaches the value of a good VPN, he's sure she's not pro-government. Maybe she'll help him as he studies the many applications of ecto-tech!]

[erinwantstowrite]

opinions on ai?

This is the perfect time to share something I wrote a few months ago when I was upset about it:

AI is the bane of my existence and I hate it so much. Not only because of the environmental impact that it has, but because of how it gives us absolutely nothing of value in creative spaces and is actually a detriment to our future, rather than being "innovative" like companies want us to believe.

If you're using AI to write notes for you, or to answer questions, to write your essays and your discussion posts, you are hurting yourself. But eventually you will hurt others with your willing ignorance. You are not learning, you are not taking the time to push yourself to new bounds. You are not absorbing the information you need, and for why? Because it's hard? Life is hard. Learning is hard. If learning was easy, you wouldn't be learning anything at all. And one day when you need to use these tools you put down and gave to a program in order to do your job, you are going to get someone hurt in some way. If you're going into teaching and you didn't bother to learn about childhood development because you let an AI take your notes because you couldn't be half-assed to sit through an hour long lecture, you will fail every student that comes your way. If you're an engineer and you had AI do the math for you, something that you make will break and it could kill someone. Because the AI can not even count how many times the letter 'r' is in strawberry, but you're trusting it to make bridges or design buildings?

And in a creative sense, you are not an artist if you use AI. I will scream it from the rooftops if I have to.

You are not an artist if you use AI.

Because to be an artist is to put your very soul into what you create. And an AI has no soul. To be an artist is to lay yourself bare for people to witness and interpret, and it's scary but it's freeing. To be an artist is to make a message with your art, to have people a thousand years from now sit in a museum and feel connected to who you were so far in the past. To think that humanity may be different but we are also inherently the same. To be an artist is to despair over the process of creating your art because it's difficult, and time consuming, and damn does it drive you crazy. But then you get that end result and you realize you learned something about yourself, you got better at something that brings you joy, you created and now you see what you are capable of, and what you will be capable of in the future. To be an artist is to connect with someone because of what you made, and that someone includes yourself.

We keep telling young artists that they need to be better now, they need to quit if they aren't good at it on the first try. We keep acting like we didn't start from somewhere ourselves, like we were born with the fine motor skills and the talent needed to create. It's because our attention spans can't handle over 20 seconds and we need multiple videos playing to drown out our own thoughts. We have to look at comment sections to see the court of public opinion before we make a judgement ourselves. If anything is out of the ordinary or doesn't look the way we expect or want, it must be shamed. And this existence is exhausting because at the end of the day, we have done nothing of value. When coming across a video of a young artist who took the time out of their day to create, we need to encourage them to continue going, tell them that their work is worthy. Because it is. It is worthy because they made it. If we shoot them down before they can go anywhere, we've just killed an artist that could have painted the next Starry Night, or created a sculpture that millions of people would try to visit. We've shot down someone who could teach others how to create one day in their future. We shot them down and killed their inspiration and motivation, and they might turn to someone else to do it for them because they will believe they are not worthy enough or talented enough to make it.

When I was still in school, my favorite part of the year was seeing the projects put up on the wall. The silly displays our teachers put up to show a holiday with slightly wonky paper snowflakes, the posters that the art students made with "too many lightning bolts around the guitar", the signs for school dances, the yearbooks that students spent all year making, the English class posters that depicted scenes from what they were reading and they were made with stick figures or they had someone draw out butterflies. I loved seeing the decorations for Homecoming Week, loved looking ta the booths that everyone made for our career and science fairs. I liked when we put on talent shows still, when we did pep rallies and fashion shows and we saw everyone get together to have fun and not care if it was "perfect." No one there was a professional artist, not yet, but that didn't make it any less entertaining or creative.

We dance because we want to feel how our bodies move and express ourselves in ways words cannot. We paint and we draw and make pottery and quilts and pictures because at one point, all we had were cave paintings of our hands, and we still look at them with reverence for where we started. We sing and we drum and we laugh because music is a universal language that anyone can understand, and isn't that breathtaking? We write so that people in the future can pour themselves over our words and learn from us, so that kids can hide their books underneath their covers with a little flashlight when their parents put them to bed hours ago but they just can't put our story down they have to know what comes next! We cook for our loved ones and have family recipes that mean we've been tasting the same food that our family we never got to meet were eating too.

We create because humans are meant to create. We put our love into the process, we put our dreams and our hopes and our hard earned lessons into these creations.

AI will never have that. AI has none of the process, and therefore, it is not art. We can gripe about how art has different meanings all we want, we can shout that art is only art if it invokes an opinion or a thought, but that is not what makes art. Because there is still effort put into placing a shoe on a pedestal, or painting a yellow square, or painting a mural on a wall, or writing poetry in a tiny notebook at school, or melting crayons together, or anything that requires you putting it together. If AI is doing all the work for you, then you've accomplished nothing. And you stole from the people that actually did accomplish something. You stole not only their effort, but you stole their process, their feelings, their hope and their dreams and their ideas of the future.

AI is nothing and will ultimately become obsolete. Because humans will not stop creating just because companies are pushing for us to stop and hand it over to them. They want us to stop creating, they want us to pay them for it, they want us to put blind trust into what they're doing, they want us to forget that they are stealing from us. I will not forget. I will never forget. Because I was born to sing and dance and write and draw and cook, and when I die, my body will go right back to the Earth and perhaps flowers will grow around my grave. I will still be creating even then. And even if AI is still around and still trying to steal from us, I will die knowing that it could never do the same.

[magicmarks]

Check out our latest blog on Engineering Mathematics! Boost your understanding with expert video lectures on key mathematical concepts for B.E./B.Tech students.

[sqgeism]

i saw the event and came RUNNING

anaxa x reader with summertime sadness by lana del rey?

𐙚 𓏵𓏵𓏵 𐙚 got my bad baby by my heavenly side | anaxagoras x gender neutral reader

💌 — ; i know if i go, i'll die happy tonight ! with a lover as brilliant as he, how could anaxa ever ask for more? you're his light as he navigates the darkness in pursuit of higher wisdom.

love mail — jhh idek what i did w this ! thank u for the first request from the event ! :D cute song omg!! this is a professor x professor where u and anaxa r married i hope u like it anon >_> ♡ art credits : opalesaint on twt

genius and madness get along, as they say. to paint a picture; you were an engineering professor, a world-renowned inventor with machines that could change the world. and anaxagoras was a... professor with a reputation, to describe it politely. you knew of him through your fourth period students who let out sighs of relief when they entered your class. apparently their third period—soul physics—had an insane professor that chased them down with a gun for being late. on that note, it's become your favorite thing to tell people that your students' insane stories of anaxa had been the first impression of your future husband.

for the actual first meeting, you had become rather intrigued with this mysterious anaxagoras. you've seen each other in the faculty, no doubt, but you can't recall ever sparking a conversation with such an interesting individual. so you sought him out, choosing one of the science labs that you were told he frequented.

only to see him on the floor, coughing out what you now understood as some kind of alchemy potion. anaxa told you later on in your relationship that he believed it could help him see things that weren't there, hidden hieroglyphs, spirits, all of that sort. only for it to prove to be ineffective, and burned his lungs with each breath he took.

you took him to the clinic, had a nurse care for him, and your relationship continued from there onward.

the students began to speculate when they noticed you two beginning to interact, of course they would. you both taught them to question everything and anything, but they were picking up on things that you two seemed to be clueless about. as an example, anaxa had assigned his class to study on a paper that you wrote. in fact, he himself had made a summary video of the entire thing JUST so his students would understand your brilliant ideas and insights. on your end, you would mention some of anaxa's teachings on soul physics and alchemy as well as minor references to his own beliefs.

it was unintentionally letting the other person slip into their most important thing, their specialty fields. the thing they've spent years devoting their mind and body to study. and you and anaxa just let each other into that very special aspect without notice.

what should have been the first sign was when you caught anaxa borrowing a book from the library that seemed to be from your field, all the way down to the specific sciences that go into your inventions, parts and gears, and books you've mentioned to him before. what should have been the second sign was the fact that you started bringing in anaxa to your classes as a guest lecturer. he had taken such great interest in your field that he was recognized to be knowledgeable enough to substitute for you during absences. the students remarked that he taught with great passion, as if he was in love with the subject just as much as you were.

half of the truth. he loved to teach it, but he also loved the teacher. he'd grown fond of you, and he was enough of a man to be able to admit that to himself. and how should a scholar confess their undying affection to another?

that's right, through the acknowledgement section of his recent findings on alchemy. in his study of how alchemy can be used to further advance technology—it reads;

"Anaxagoras would like to thank (name) for their life changing support throughout his writing of his thesis. (name), if you would allow me, let me be yours and let's explore the truth of the world together?"

those words were in the final submission of the printed paper, and you gave a free copy to all of your students of that year. and in the next three years, you gave it once again to your new batch for a study assignment, only now with a ring and the biggest smile whenever a curious student points out the acknowledgement.

now the academy has become a museum of memories, every hall and room has a loving tie back to your relationship. longing stares and late nights reading each others work—becomes loving gazes and early mornings in bed with each other. in a turn of events, the formula of his life had changed with a new variable, a very loving, beautiful, and gorgeous variable. his significant other, his passion, his (name). in every aspect of the word; he had won in both the field of academics and romance.

© sqgeism or wtv (^_^;)

[endofthelinexx]

Driven to You | 1

Pairing: Female!Student!Reader x Lewis Hamilton

TW: Language, fake friend

Rating: Mature, 18+

AN: soooo im back pt 5. I got hit with some inspiration and I'm so excited to start writing again. I'm hyped af for this series, its going to be soooo good and lewis omg he's looking so fine in that brand new red I just had to write about him! comment to be added to the taglist!

Word count: 1.7k

Mini Summary: Lena Carter is just a sorority girl from Texas with big dreams of designing cars, not getting caught up in the spotlight. But when a Ferrari guest lecturer turns out to be none other than Formula 1 legend Lewis Hamilton, her world is thrown into chaos. Between stolen glances, secret encounters, and the growing tension that neither of them can ignore, Lena finds herself racing toward a life she never imagined—one where the stakes are higher than ever.

*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it or parts of it, and claiming it as your own.  

| chapter 1 |

Lena's POV

Lena Carter, a senior in college, was an interior design major with a love for Formula 1. She wasn’t shy about the fact that her Sundays were spent glued to the television, watching races and wishing she had a passion for engineering, but unfortunately, she hates physics with a passion. Her roommates, Jade and Amelia, didn’t quite share the same enthusiasm, but they loved teasing her about her obsession.

“Lena, are you seriously watching another race highlight?” Amelia groaned, leaning against the kitchen counter as she stirred her coffee.

“It’s not just a highlight,” Lena replied, rolling her eyes. “It’s an analysis video. There’s a difference.”

“Okay, well, whatever it is, can you pause it and help me make our breakfast so we can make it to studio on time?” Jade begged, hands together sarcastically. Lena nodded and jumped up, walking into the kitchen to help.

The three girls worked in harmony, laughing and joking as they prepped breakfast. Their apartment, a cozy off-campus rental, was filled with the smell of fresh coffee and sizzling eggs. 

“So, what’s the plan for today? Do you think Ethan will actually show up to class this time?” Lena teased, glancing at Jade as she popped a strawberry into her mouth.

Ethan was Jade's boyfriend, he was an architecture major, so he was in the same building as them, just on the arrogant side. He was of course in a frat, Jade has yet to learn her lesson about dating frat boys, which annoyed Lena since she was always hugging Jade while she cried about them. They’d been dating a few months and honestly, Lena got bad vibes, she didn’t know what it was, but she was sure all the pieces would fall into place sooner rather than later.

Jade groaned, flipping the eggs in the pan with more force than necessary. “I told him last night that if he doesn’t get his act together, I’m done. But you know Ethan—he’s all talk and no action.”

Amelia smirked over the rim of her coffee mug. “Are we still pretending he’s going to change? Because, honestly, I don’t think he even knows where his studio is.”

Lena laughed, tossing a few blueberries at Amelia, who squealed and dodged them. “You two are the worst,” Jade muttered, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at her lips.

As the girls sat down to eat, the conversation shifted to what their studio project might be. She was hoping it had something to do with car interiors since that is what they’ve been doing their work on recently, but they wouldn’t know for another week or two.

They went to studio, it was nothing of interest, just desk critiques and feedback. Lena and Jade sat next to each other, of course; they talked as they did their work. Unfortunately for Amelia, she sat a row down from them, but she had another friend, Natalia. Natalia was, honestly, a bitch—which was why Jade and Lena sat away from them.

Lena was doing some research on car interior materials when she felt her phone buzz on her desk. She absentmindedly glanced at the screen, expecting another generic school notification or maybe a tiktok from Jade. But what she saw instead made her heart skip a beat.

“Guest Lecture Series: Lewis Hamilton - Formula 1 Champion and Advocate for Innovation in Design.”

Her fingers trembled slightly as she tapped the notification to read the full details. The lecture was scheduled for next Tuesday at the auditorium on campus. It didn’t feel real. Lewis Hamilton? Here? On her campus?

“Lena?” Jade nudged her, frowning when she noticed the look on her friend’s face. “You good?”

“Uh...” Lena’s voice wavered as she struggled to find the words. She turned her phone to Jade, showing her the announcement.

Jade’s eyes widened, “Lewis Hamilton? Isn’t he that hot dude that does your racing shit? What does he know about design?”

“I don’t really care what he knows about design, I’m going to that damn lecture,” Lena grinned as she spoke, already getting excited.

Jade couldn’t help but laugh a little, “Okay okay, no one is stopping you girl. What if he notices you and falls immediately in love?”

“This isn’t a Wattpad one direction fanfiction Jade, this is real life, that won't happen, but I will get to see him, maybe even meet him!” She rolled her eyes at Jade. “I have to ask him a question too!”

As the studio session dragged on, Lena found it impossible to focus. Her mind kept drifting back to the announcement, to Lewis Hamilton, to the idea of seeing him in person. Would she get to ask him a question? Would he actually take time to talk to her?

Lewis' POV

Lewis Hamilton leaned back in his chair, his phone resting face-up on the marble kitchen counter of his Monaco apartment. The gentle hum of an espresso machine filled the space as his assistant, Rebecca, stood by the window, flipping through his packed schedule for the upcoming week.

“So, Tuesday,” Rebecca began, glancing at her tablet. “You’ve got that guest lecture at that university in America. Design innovation, sustainability, and motorsport—your usual talking points. Should be straightforward.”

Lewis nodded, taking a sip of his freshly made coffee. “Yeah, straightforward for you maybe. I’ve got to convince a room full of students that what we do in F1 has relevance outside the paddock.”

Rebecca rolled her eyes. “Lewis, they invited you. Most of those kids are probably just showing up to fangirl over you, not sustainability trends.”

He laughed, setting his mug down. “I don’t know about that. I mean, I hope at least a few of them are serious about design.” He leaned forward, glancing at her tablet. “What time’s the lecture again?”

“Afternoon. You’ve got a private jet booked the night before to get you there in time. And don’t forget the meet-and-greet after. The university’s design department specifically requested it. They’re big on networking.”

Lewis ran a hand through his messy curls, leaning back again. “It’ll be fine. It’s important to me, you know?”

Rebecca smiled. “I know, Lewis. It’s why you’re perfect for this.”

As she continued running through his itinerary, his thoughts drifted. The last few weeks had been relentless: races, training, meetings, sponsor obligations. He barely had time to breathe, let alone think about how much he enjoyed moments like these—engaging with people outside the motorsport bubble.

Still, he couldn’t shake the nagging doubt that always crept in before events like this. Would the students care about sustainability? Would they see beyond the celebrity and focus on the message? He wanted to inspire them, sure, but he also wanted to connect with them, to plant the seed that their work could have real impact.

“…and that’s it for next week,” Rebecca finished, snapping him out of his thoughts. She shot him a pointed look. “Try not to overthink it, yeah? They’ll love you.”

“Overthinking? Me?” Lewis smirked, lifting his mug again. “Never.”

Rebecca rolled her eyes and walked out, leaving Lewis alone with his thoughts. He picked up his phone and opened the university’s email again, scrolling through the details of the event. A lecture in a quiet town in the south—it wasn’t exactly glamorous compared to the glitz of Monaco, but maybe that was the point.

Lena’s POV

Lena stood in front of her mirror, adjusting the hem of her blouse. The lecture was in a few hours, and she was running through her outfit choices in her head. She wanted to look professional—after all, this wasn’t some random event, but a lecture by Lewis Hamilton himself. But she also wanted to look... well, hot. She knew how to balance both.

She settled on a blue button up top, unbuttoning the top few buttons to show a little bit of the black lace bra she wore with it. The top gave her the professional edge she wanted, but the bra underneath was something she knew could catch his attention if he chose to look her way at all. The dark jeans she paired it with had just the right fit, and a pair of low, sleek heels added a bit of height. She glanced at herself one last time, pulling her hair into a low bun with a few strands left to frame her face. She took a deep breath, sprayed her YSL perfume and headed out of the house.

 When she arrived at the auditorium, she moved as quick as she could to get to one of the front rows, smiling and knowing maybe she’d have a chance of making eye contact with him. She took out her notebook to take notes with and glanced around the room, noticing it being filled with mostly girls, some of which not being dressed professionally at all, it looked more like they were going to the bars after. She shook her head, not very surprised. All of a sudden the light dimmed and out walked Lewis Hamilton, her eyes went wide. She didn’t fully realize how close she was to the stage until he walked out and was standing probably within 20 feet of her. Everyone clapped as he waved and made his way to sit down on a couch set up on the stage. It went quiet as he began to speak.

His outfit was simple, all black, dressed professionally, his hair braided like usual, and he had a smile on his face as he spoke. She took notes of course, listened to what he had to say, but every now and then she couldn’t help but stare. As the lecture wrapped up, Lena couldn’t wait to ask a question. She had thought about it all day, rehearsing in her mind how to sound confident without being too forward. She had to make this moment count. When the Q&A session opened, she raised her hand without hesitation.

His attention turned to her hand first, pointing at it, “yes, what’s your question?”

Her eyes widened as they met his, but she had to keep her cool, everyone was looking at her. She took a deep breath and opened her mouth to ask the question.

Taglist:

@lh44girl

next chapter >>

[littleredwing89]

FAMOUS [PART SIX]

Bodyguard!Jason Todd x Singer!Reader

Summary: “You know,” you began, smirking as you watched him, “I didn’t think ‘tech genius’ was part of your job description. Thought you just hit things”. Jason paused, glancing over his shoulder at you, a hint of amusement in his eyes. “I can do both. Multi-talented.”

Warnings: None. A little bit of flirty banter. Family dynamics.

A/N: Sending all my love to you wonderful readers & please enjoy the next chapter - Elle xoxo ❤️❤️

———

SKYNET AND CONSPIRACIES

———

The apartment was calm, the usual city noise outside fading into the background. You leaned against the doorway, watching as Jason crouched by the wall, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, installing the new security system. He had been at it for a while, his focus intense as he worked the wires, his movements precise and confident. It was hard not to be impressed—he seemed to handle tech with the same ease that he handled a gun or a motorcycle.

“You know,” you began, smirking as you watched him, “I didn’t think ‘tech genius’ was part of your job description. Thought you just hit things.”

Jason paused, glancing over his shoulder at you, a hint of amusement in his eyes. “I can do both. Multi-talented.”

You grinned, stepping closer to peek over his shoulder. “So this thing won’t turn into Skynet and take over my life, right?”

Jason snorted, shaking his head as he continued to work. “You really gotta stop watching those conspiracy videos.”

“They’re all true, though,” you shot back, folding your arms. “Besides, I’ll bet one of your brothers agrees with me.”

Jason’s hand stilled for a moment, then he scowled, clearly not a fan of the comparison. “Don’t bring Dick into this—he’s a business major and a complete dork.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “So are you. You’re definitely related.”

He turned his head, giving you an offended look. “When have I ever been a dork?”

You raised an eyebrow, pretending to think hard. “Oh, let’s see… there was the time you spent two hours lecturing me about motorcycle engines, and the time you almost punched a guy because he didn’t like The Terminator.”

Jason sat up, wiping his hands on his jeans with a smug grin. “Those are perfectly valid things to get worked up about.”

“Sure, sure,” you teased, leaning against the counter. “You and your brothers sound like a bunch of overgrown kids.”

Jason’s grin faltered, and he looked thoughtful for a moment. “Yeah, well… it’s always the big brother that’s the worst.”

“Dick?” you asked, grinning.

Jason nodded, laughing. “Yep. Dick.”

You blinked, realising the name. “Wait—his name’s Richard?”

Jason smirked. “Yep.”

“Oh, I thought you were just being a dick.”

Jason burst out laughing, the tension in the room lifting. “Nope. Just family nicknames.”

You shook your head, still smiling as he stood and dusted himself off. “You’re a perfect angel, aren’t you?”

“Damn right,” Jason replied with a wink, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Saint Todd, at your service.”

“I’m not convinced,” you teased, crossing your arms. “I’ve seen your search history.”

Jason’s face flushed. “That was Roy!”

“Sure, I bet Roy doesn’t even exist.”

Jason smirked, pulling out his phone and typing something before tossing it to you. “Roy’s Instagram.”

You glanced at the profile picture and let out a low whistle. “He’s out of your league.”

Jason scoffed. “If he’s out of mine, he’s definitely not in yours.”

You flushed pink, smiling softly. “Dork.”

Jason grinned back. “Takes one to know one.” He stood, setting the last piece of equipment down. “I think I’m done.”

You smirked. “Now you can record me in the bathroom.”

Jason paused, then deadpanned, “I could if I wanted more money.”

You stared at him. He stared back.

“Please tell me people won’t actually pay for that,” you said, voice dripping with disbelief.

“Millions, princess.”

“How do you even know that?”

Jason blushed. “I—I don’t! I’m just guessing!”

“Do I need to check if Roman is paying you enough?” you teased, shaking your head.

Jason just grinned, his eyes sparkling with that teasing glint that was becoming all too familiar.

He took a step closer, closing the distance between you. The air around you crackled with tension, every heartbeat echoing in your ears. You could see his eyes searching yours, a mix of desire and uncertainty.

You could feel the heat radiating from him, the scent of leather and something distinctly Jason filling the space between you. His eyes lingered on yours for a moment, as if he was trying to decide something.

You swallowed hard, your heart thudding against your ribs. “So, uh… are you done?” you asked, your voice quieter than you intended.

Jason’s eyes flicked to your lips for just a second before he smiled, stepping back a little. “Yeah. All set. Your place is Fort Knox now.”

You exhaled a breath you didn’t realise you were holding, nodding as you tried to steady your nerves. “Good. Thanks for, uh… keeping me safe.”

Jason opened his mouth to respond, but before he could say anything, his phone buzzed loudly from where it sat on the couch. He sighed, his expression tightening as he glanced at the screen.

“Shit—it’s Bruce,” he muttered, already sounding exasperated.

You watched him as he picked up the call, his body language shifting from relaxed to business in a heartbeat. “Yeah, Bruce?” His tone was clipped, like he wasn’t in the mood for whatever conversation was about to happen.

Jason walked across the room, his voice lowering as he spoke to his adoptive father. You could hear bits of the conversation, mostly grunts of acknowledgment from Jason, but your thoughts were elsewhere—still caught on the charged moment you’d shared just before the phone interrupted.

Jason ended the call and walked back toward you, his expression unreadable. “I gotta head out. Bruce needs a quick favour.”

You forced a smile, though disappointment tugged at your chest. “Yeah, of course. I understand, I’ll be fine. I’ve got all this super fancy hi-tech security now.”

Jason chuckled softly, as he headed for the door. But before he left, he paused, turning back to look at you. His gaze lingered for a moment, like he was about to say something important, but he hesitated.

Finally, he gave you a small smile. “Don’t get into too much trouble while I’m gone.”

You grinned back, feeling the warmth of his smile in your chest. “No promises.”

“I won’t be long—call me if you need me”.

With one last lingering glance, Jason slipped out the door, leaving the apartment feeling colder, quieter, and emptier than it had just moments ago.

As you leaned against the kitchen counter, you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something building between you—something neither of you was quite ready to acknowledge. You glanced around the room, still feeling Jason’s presence somehow in the quiet.

A soft leather jacket lay over the back of your couch. You chuckled, realising he must’ve forgotten it in his rush. Picking it up, you caught the familiar scent of leather and something distinctly him. The smell brought a warmth to your chest and made the hollow room feel just a bit less empty.

Maybe, you and Jason would figure out how to navigate whatever this was, but until then, you were safe in the knowledge that your apartment was now officially under 24/7 Jason Todd surveillance.

——

The Wayne Manor was quiet when Jason arrived, a sharp contrast to the tension simmering beneath the surface. Bruce was waiting in the doorway, dressed down in a dark sweater and jeans—clothes that looked oddly casual on him.

“Thanks for coming,” Bruce said, his voice softer than usual. “Alfred’s taking a few days off to look after a friend in Metropolis. I didn’t want to leave the kids alone here for too long, especially after… well, you know.”

Jason nodded, glancing around. “Yeah. No problem.”

They walked into the manor, and Jason took in the familiar surroundings, memories of chaotic afternoons with his brothers drifting through his mind. But today, the place felt… different.

“Where’s Damian?” Jason asked as they walked toward the living room.

“He’s upstairs,” Bruce said, pausing. “Having a rough week with college. New teachers, new pressures. He doesn’t want to talk about it, but…” Bruce trailed off, his concern clear in the set of his shoulders.

“Damian? Not talking?” Jason smirked. “Didn’t know that was possible.”

Bruce gave a rare chuckle but sighed. “Not everyone wears their emotions on their sleeve, Jason.”

Jason shrugged, letting the comment slide. “Want me to talk to him?”

“If you don’t mind.” Bruce’s expression softened, a glimmer of gratitude in his eyes. “He looks up to you, even if he’ll never admit it.”

Jason made his way upstairs, tapping on Damian’s door and grinning when he got a reluctant “Come in.”

After some teasing, Jason managed to distract Damian enough to soften his expression and ease his mind. When Jason finally returned to the kitchen, he found Bruce waiting with two mugs of coffee. Bruce slid one toward him, eyes fixed in that familiar, scrutinising way.

“Thanks for talking to him,” Bruce said, taking a sip from his mug. “He listens to you in ways he doesn’t with me.”

Jason shrugged. “Family’s family.”

Bruce’s eyes lingered a moment before he cleared his throat, his expression shifting. “And how are you doing, Jason?”

“Fine,” Jason replied, a bit too quickly, taking a long sip of coffee and avoiding Bruce’s gaze.

“Are you?” Bruce raised an eyebrow, studying him with a hint of amusement. “Usually when you dodge questions that fast, it’s one of two things.”

Jason’s brow furrowed, glancing up suspiciously. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Bruce smirked, shrugging one shoulder. “It’s either trouble at work—or woman trouble. And I have a feeling work isn’t what’s keeping you up at night.”

Jason felt heat rise to his cheeks, and he let out a frustrated huff. “Seriously, Bruce?”

Bruce’s smirk widened, his eyes glinting with mild amusement. “I might be getting older, Jason, but I can still recognize the signs.”

Jason rolled his eyes, trying to shrug off the flush creeping into his face. “It’s not like that.”

“Uh-huh.” Bruce’s tone was so casual, so nonchalant, it only made Jason more uncomfortable. “So if it’s not that, then what is it?”

Jason looked away, swallowing hard. “Look, it’s… complicated.”

Bruce leaned back, his expression turning from teasing to something softer, almost understanding. “Life usually is. But if you ever want to talk about it… well, you know where I am.”

Jason let out a deep breath, nodding. For all the embarrassment, there was a strange relief in knowing Bruce saw through him, even if he wasn’t ready to open up just yet.

Bruce gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Take care of yourself, Jason,” he said, his voice gentle. “And try not to make things too complicated.”

Jason smirked, feeling a hint of his usual confidence return. “I’m a Todd, Bruce. Complicated is my specialty.”

Bruce chuckled, shaking his head. “That’s the problem.”

Jason couldn’t help but smile as he left, Bruce’s warmth and understanding lingering with him. Whatever this was with you, maybe it wasn’t something he had to navigate alone.

***

[junplusone]

seventeen as engineering majors

notes: hi i have nothing to say for myself except this is partially @imujings's fault and also my self indulgence so here we go (can you tell what my major is..... lol)

warnings: ehh swearing, i namedrop companies, eng jargon

-

CHOI SEUNGCHEOL - civil engineering

if you know, you know

is very proud of his program despite all the jokes (he shouldn't be) sorry im biased

"we're better than the meches"

never had to take dynamics in his LIFE omg

100% has a poster of the golden gate bridge on his wall and gets made fun of for it

is convinced one day when he's making bank and jeonghan is jobless he'll finally be vindicated

YOON JEONGHAN - mechanical engineering

did have to take dynamics & almost failed it

(he's smart, he was just too lazy to submit any of the homework that was also worth 60% of his grade)

gets salty at career fairs when most of the employers are construction companies

competing with the 24853874534 other meches for class sections

leaning into the "jack of all trades master of ????"

has a superiority complex over the aeros

HONG JOSHUA - computer engineering

should have just been a cs major tbh

compe is the bottom of the engineering food chain

but nobody has the heart to tell him that bc he's too kind

hangs out with the likes of yoon jeonghan but still never skips class

wants to create his own video game

probably got an internship at a fortune 100 company

has hella connections and WILL ask them to nepo you too bc he's that nice

WEN JUNHUI - aerospace engineering

has had enough of the lockheed martin jokes

does NOT !!! wanna work in defense he's a sustainable fuel guy

spacecraft development companies pleaseeee hire him

lets the meches have beef w him bc he dgaf what they think, but gets annoyed when they start competing w him for jobs

sidequest king (double minor in math & ecology AND he wants to try his hand at law school???? wtf)

locks in so freaking hard when he has to but is just silly otherwise - he's that student you never see studying but then they ace the exam

KWON SOONYOUNG - chemical engineering

is the one making lockheed martin jokes in front of junhui

but definitely picked cheme because someone told him he can make bombs

had to retake orgo twice but then passed inorganic chemistry with flying colors

academic wild card #1

always ends up with 8:30s bc he never wakes up on time for class registration

#1 merck worshipper pls hire him omg

LEE JIHOON - computer engineering

is at the bottom of the engineering food chain, but unlike joshua he knows & owns it

is a cs minor so it's slightly more excusable

probably has hella shit on github

definitely following more companies on linkedin than he has connections

double major in music production & plays clarinet in the pep band

you will never see him without his headphones on

JEON WONWOO - electrical engineering

actually very strongly dislikes that electrical & comp are grouped together as ece

likes the versatility of his major

probably never had a single morning class in his life

def came into college proficient in a bunch of programming languages

sits at the back of the lecture hall

never ever studies outside of his dorm bc he likes using his huge desk monitor

KIM MINGYU - biomedical engineering

so sick of every single person he meets assuming he's a premed student

has definitely accidentally broken flasks in his bio lab

was so elated when he found out orgo isn't a graduation requirement

always ALWAYS studies w a whiteboard

is one of the only guys in bme

you can always find him cooking up some food in the dorm's communal kitchen, he's always down for a conversation

LEE SEOKMIN - environmental engineering

minor in sustainability, he's an environmentally conscious sweetie pie!

the dream project groupmate

is one of like 15 people in his graduating class

wants to research water treatment technologies

"did you know using chatgpt is harmful to the environment?"

and he's right !!!!

took organic chemistry for fun and aced it even though mingyu warned him it would tank his gpa

XU MINGHAO - chemical engineering

really wants to work in the fragrance industry

always smells good, you'll never catch him lacking

another one of those people where you don't see them study ever but they still coast through classes

gets distracted when he's drawing out chemical compounds bc he tries too hard to get the lines perfect

and then starts sketching something else

second most nastiest side eye

BOO SEUNGKWAN - industrial & systems engineering

y'all know this man did not wanna do any work (jk i love my ise majors)

business admin double major & he's reaaaally good at it

everyone's jealous of the way he charms all the employers at the career fair how do u even do that like???

very intelligent but hated every calc class he had to take

always studies in the business building

nastiest side eye EVERRRRRR do not say anything stupid in front of him please he will vaporize you

CHWE HANSOL - materials science & engineering

walter white in the making

declared a chemistry minor and then never took the required classes

really enjoyed crystal chem

profs have a hard time grading his hw cause his handwriting lowkey looks like chicken scratches

the absolute chillest during finals week but nobody knows if it's because he studied way in advance or because he didn't study at all

academic wild card #2

such an 'it is what it is' guy tbh...

LEE CHAN - packaging engineering

ppl look confused when he tells them his major

is in it for the near 100% job placement

has a great time in all of his classes because they're so fun and the class size is like 8 kids

doesn't fully know what he wants to do later in life but he'll figure it out later

carpe diem kinda guy

wants to intern at a cosmetics company really really bad so he can take sample products home to his mom

let me know if u enjoyed this hehe :)

[peachiemilkytea]

ʜᴏᴛ ꜱᴛᴜꜰꜰ

Summary: You get to meet the person that was out on vacation when you got into Micheal's group. Robin didn't feel right with you despite what the boys thought about you.

Warnings: Teen!Michael Afton, slow burn, mentions of (Y/n), tension, passive aggressiveness, etc.

Paring: Michael Afton x reader

W/C: 29k

☆════ ⋆★⋆ ════☆

The cord from the console travels up to the remotes onto their hands. The gang of teens sloppily lying on the couch with legs hanging above the top of the couch. Fanning themselves from the summer heat and humid home. Yelling curses at the TV screen and tugging on the cord here and there.

"Donkey Kong reminds me of her," Simon said softly upside down off of the chair. Strands of hair fell past his ears. A pout on his lips looking like a kicked-over puppy.

"Everything reminds you of her." Micheal scoffs rolling his eyes while pressing on the buttons of the controller.

"Who's this 'her'?" Robin asked, lifting herself by her elbows on the chair. Curiosity and jealousy slowly ticking away at her mind. Who is her? Is she pretty? Does she wanna be her or date her? Will she be replaced? Will she have a new girl bestie? All these thoughts make her head stuffy.

"We met this girl at Mike's dad's work. Mike beat her high score in a video game and turns out she works there." Jeremy said, looking back and forth from the screen and to Robin. Recalling the poisonous perfume, pineapple, and honeysuckle lingers with him.

"Oh really? Shouldn't she be doing her job instead of playing on the arcade machines?" Robin asked, swiveling her head. All of them turned her way. Not letting her feel the way she wants to. But if the boys like this new girl so much then why can't she go along with it? Nothing will happen, it's just a hot chick.

"Hey! You leave her alone!" Simon said, flipping right side up. Dramatically waving his hand out like a sword horizontally while holding the controller with the other hand. Aaron passed him into the pixelated hell of Mario Kart, he let out a "Ha! Passed you!" Simon let out a "Damn it!" He jumps in his seat and turns back to the game with both hands on the controller.

"My dad said she's his and Henry's head engineer. She goes around doing whatever they want. She'll repair stuff, build stuff, and help around in any departments that need fixing." Michael explained twiddling a cigarette between his fingers. Takes another puff and breathes it in deeply, seconds later letting out a puff of smoke. Don't do drugs kids. Smoking gets you holes in your throat. That's what his mom always said. If his mom saw what he was doing right now, he would get lectured for hours.

"How did she get that high of a job offer?" Jeremy asked curiously, bouncing his leg up and down quickly.

"The girl is friends with Henry or something. He offered her the job." Michael said not pulling his eyes away from the screen with the bright colors and loud noises.  How can a young woman be friends with an older man? I guess it's not uncommon, just so out of the blue.

"We'll go there again, you can meet her Robs. You can tell her about all the good stuff about us! Impress her about us!" Alejandro said, turning to her and pointing to her half-jokingly. Simon nodded quickly while looking at her with a big dopey grin.

"Depends if she's hot, I might have to steal her from you." Robin jokes with a sly smirk getting panicked noises out of the two boys. She giggled but deep down she had a tight burning feeling in her chest.

-----

Pushing open the doors, the group walked through. All excitedly looking back at each other and looking around while Robin was grumpy coming in last. With the growl of Simon's stomach, they snagged an empty table. Wiping the trash and muck onto the floor, some workers saw this from afar and gritted their teeth. One of them broke the broom in half.

"Let's get a pepperoni pizza, make it large. That's 4 bucks. I got 2 on me." Alejandro said, looking through the menu and pulling out the money.

"I have another 2, it will be enough... Simon put your quarters away." Jeremy pulled out his money and looked at the other boy disappointedly. He slowly edged his coins off of the table and into his wallet sadly. The waitress came around and took the order on her notepad, walking off to the kitchen.

"I could've just got us free food. You know that right?" Michael said, smirking giddy. The table 'ooh'ed' in realization and cursed, he laughed at their stupidity. Of course, the boss's son would have all the benefits. They knew this. But in all the excitement they got lost in what they were doing.

"Okay, so what's the plan?" Robin asked, putting her elbows on the table. Peaking over her shoulder to find any hot chick. Accusing random pretty girls of being the girl they were talking about. She was so on edge, so nervous. Her whole friendship might change with the boys. Their group was just fine as is! Ugh, the faster it's done with the less she has to worry.

"We'll eat then go to the arcade, I overheard Henry saying how she is always there if she isn't working or she's in the office with my dad or him," Michael explained. It was weird to him, they were all so close in their little work relationship. But after meeting her family and seeing how she is. He got a grasp on it was more than just a work relationship. (Y/n) told him her hours beforehand and what she does around her job. Though he didn't want to look like a dork in front of the guys. Especially after the first time they met and got into a little rivalry.

Right then and there, the waitress came back put the pizza on the table, and Alejandro handed her the money. Everyone grabbed a slice and started to dig in. Cheese stringing attached to the leftover slices and brown crust around the pepperoni's. Mmm~

"I don't know how long I can last eating this pizza every day," Jeremy said, lifting it and watching the cheese fall from it.

"Every day? How are you guys not dead yet?" Robin asked, licking her fingers at the cheese and grease. Looking at the grease on the napkins. Their stomachs must be butchered. The lengths they go to... jeez!

"Simon and Alejandro like to come here to see the girl we're gonna have you meet," Michael says while chewing. This aggravated something within Robin. What was so special about this girl?  That question has been plaguing her mind for days.

Throwing crusts, napkins, and other junk they had on the pizza tray. The money on the side is stacked nicely. Jeremy pushed everybody's seat in and followed them to the arcade. Simon pulled out his coins, giving five to each person. Q*bert's game title screen was bouncing with fun. Robin put in her coin and clicked the buttons. The guys watching over her shoulder. Jumping on the green squares of the pyramid avoiding the purple snakes. However, the further she got, she had failed to an enemy that was surrounded by every corner and got the game over. Jeremy took Robin's place and pressed his coin in halfway.

"Hey, (Y/n)!" Michael waved to her while leaning on the arcade game. He felt like he had the higher leverage after calling her almost every night. Elizabeth always made kissy noises from the hallway when he was on the phone. The result? Michael throws a pillow in her face.

Everyone's heads turned to the person working on a Pac-Man machine to get out some kid's stolen game tokens. She perked her head up shaking her head with a smile. Grabbed the tokens out of the machine and poured them into the kid's hand. He ran away from Pac-Man to find a game that works. She looked back at them getting up from her knees. The group walked over to (Y/n). She noticed Robin first, and curiosity formed. A deep admiration. She was pretty! Hiding her blush from looking at Robin with a melting smile.

"This is Robin Wilson, this is (Y/n) (L/n)." Jeremy introduced the two stutters in his words yet going between the both of them. (Y/n) nodded smiling softly and held her hand out, Robin mugged her and then looked away. She was confused by the passive aggression but didn't let it get to her, shaking it off

"So what are you doing? Still working?" Alejandro asked, Robin came to his side glaring at her. An excitement forming. His friend and his dream girl were finally meeting. It didn't feel normal to not take Robin with them. But she had a reason. She was on vacation with her family.

"Right now I'm done for today. If you guys want to do something?" (Y/n) asked, looking at her invisible watch and shrugging her shoulders. Sure, Henry wouldn't mind. He encourages her to make friends her age. As much as he loves her, he doesn't wanna be her only friend. William on the other hand... doesn't mind her following him around like a puppy. He'll just never admit it out loud.

"Yeah, we can go to Sparky's diner. I haven't been there in forever." Jeremy suggested tapping his fingers on the big video game machine. She nodded and left to the back to clock out and get changed out of the engineer jumpsuit uniform.

The bell jingled on the door as they left, walking down the sunny streets. A family restaurant, Eliot's in the shopping center full of cornered restaurants and different food shops. Full of boyish antics and heels tapping against the pavement. Simon walks next to (Y/n) trying to impress her by showing off volleyball stories from school. he was the team's spiker. Simon would renact the plays and sounds he did from his games. Even though he thinks he was being cool it was dorky. (Y/n) couldn't help but laugh at the display. Michael not too far off of her side rolled his eyes. Shaking his head like a disappointed mother. Though he felt something sting within him, he didn't act on it. The beautiful smile on (Y/n)'s lips showing her pearly whites was enough to make it fade away.

Robin looked back not having any of it. A nasty scowl appears on her face. Her sight darts over to Micheal. He gives her a small smile. Robin waves her finger in a motion signifying him to come to her. A little confused he strides up to her side leaving (Y/n)'s. All she has to do is keep the boys away from (Y/n) and everything will be the same. She was going to do that for as long as she could without being caught. A bell rings at the top of the doors.

"Hi! Table for six?" A waiter comes up holding menus. Nods and yeses were quick to answer. They followed the waiter down to a large table right by the window. The waiter leaving the menus on the table leaves politely.

"Uh, we're missing one more menu." Alejandro pointed out seeing as Jeremy doesn't have one. He was internally panicking from social anxiety letting his hair cover his eyes. Rubbing his hands on his pants.

"Here, we can share." (Y/n) offered putting her menu in between the two of them. Jeremy blushes to his ears just by the feeling of her shoulder against his. He lets out a small 'thank you.' The corners of Robin's mouth twitch in annoyance. 'What the hell is her problem? She would've stepped in to help him. She was literally about to give him her menu. Is (Y/n) trying to take him when he needs help? What's next? His free will?' Her thoughts rang out. Soon enough, the waiter came back to take drink orders. Everyone has a certain order. You can tell it gave the waiter a headache.

"Robs, how was vacation?" Simon asked, leaning over the table. She didn't even realize that they were talking. Snapping out of her annoyed trance.

"It was really fun! A little too hot for my liking. Though there were pretty beaches and sunsets. There were so many people on the beach. I brought souvenirs! They're back at my house." Robin explained looking through her menu. Michael and Simon feel excitement in their guts at having a little gift.

"Where did you visit?" (Y/n) asked politely. They were all talking so casually, that she wasn't up to date on what was happening recently. Feeling a little out of place, this group has known each other much longer than she has. (Y/n) was a little intimidated by the familiarity.

"San Diego, it's in California," Robin said, talking to (Y/n) as if she was stupid. She was annoyed to hear her voice. To Robin, it sounded like nails on a chalkboard. All she could do was stare at her and not look away. Seemingly disgusted and annoyed.

"Oh, that's cool!" (Y/n) said enthusiastically. The conversation changed its course after its awkward encounter. The silence between the two was deafening and uncomfortable. (Y/n) fidgeted with the dog tag around her neck then scratched at her hair and bit her bottom lip before letting them go. 

Eventually, the drinks came in waters, lemonades, Shirley Temple, and rootbeers.  Simon downed his drink as soon as he got it. It was never known whether it was because he was thirsty or wanted to have fun. The boys started chanting "Chug! Chug! Chug!" (Y/n) rolled her eyes playfully at the group. Robin looked down at her lap sipping her drink, uncharastically quiet. She was trying to ignore (Y/n)'s happiness.  Simon let out an atomic burp.

"Dude that's gross!"

"Come on we're public!" Alejandro pushed Simon's shoulder over the table, the two of them snickering. (Y/n) shook her head playfully disappointed by their boyish behavior. Meanwhile, Robin was fuming, if this was a cartoon she would have steam coming out through her ears.

-----

Everybody was eating and enjoying their food. Simon was talking with his mouth full and Michael was encouraging him, laughing at his disgustingness. Robin reached over to take a bite of Jeremy's food with her fork. he smiled nervously and let her take a bite. Robin took a slow bite while looking at (Y/n) half-liddedly. As if she did something. (Y/n) blinked at her confusedly and went back to picking at her food for the good stuff.  

Michael reached over grabbing a fry off of (Y/n)'s plate. She shot him a look, throwing one of her eyebrows up smirking. He ate the fry in front of her.  Robin rolled her eyes at them, there was a burning feeling in her chest. The boys were chatting (Y/n) occasionally joining in. Robin learned to tune out her voice, her voice was so annoying.  They were getting more rowdy by the minute, and people around the restaurant looked at them with annoyance. Teenagers in the diner weren't anything out of the ordinary. However, the girls weren't paying attention to them. Caught up in their tension. Simon playfully pushed Jeremy's shoulder knocking his arm into Robin's drink, spilling it on her shirt. She yelped, a dark stain was forming on her red plaid vest. 

"Oh shit! Sorry, Robin! Here." Simon grabbed a handful of napkins for her. She yanked them out of his hands.

She groaned. "Ugh, it's fine."  After a few pats, she settled on going to the bathroom. the boys stand up letting her pass them. She made a break for the bathroom.  The two sat back down.

"I'm gonna go help her." (Y/n) said, Alejandro got up out of his seat letting her pass by him. She walked towards the bathroom.  Robin stood in front of the mirror with a bunch of crumpled damp paper towels. Patting down the dark stain on her cute vest. She looked in the mirror, and (Y/n)'s reflection appeared.

"What do you want?" She said harshly. She went back to cleaning up the soda split on her. "I came to see if you needed help." (Y/n) eyed her shirt. Coming up towards her grabbing some paper towels from the dispenser. 

"It's not that bad." (Y/n) Put a little water and soap onto the paper towels. Patting down Robin's vest. She grabbed her hand and yanked it away from her. "Stop it," Robin growled. 

(Y/n) backed off, allowing Robin to use the paper towels she got for her.  Why was she so mad at her? What did she do wrong? (Y/n) let these thoughts linger in her head. She was trying to be friendly and make a new friend this whole time. The group was new to her but the boys were welcoming. So why wasn't Robin like that? It plagued her to think that something was wrong with her. 

"You ruined everything! I hope you are happy." Robin snapped at her. It felt like a stab in the back. (Y/n)'s chest became hollow. "What do you mean?" (Y/n) asked quietly. The other girl glared at her. 

"It was perfect without you here. Then you came and messed everything up. All they do is talk about you! It's so fucking irritating. This wouldn't even be a problem if you would" Robin scolded. (Y/n) looked away from her. Everyone had their moments but this was humiliating. There was nothing she could do but listen to the venomous words leaving Robin's mouth. "Oh," Is all that (Y/n) could say. Robin left with her back to the table.