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liver-f4ilure · 6 months ago

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The Irkutsk Molotochniki: AKA The Academy Maniacs (BIG info post)

NOTE: Haiii!! Sorry I haven’t been posting, I got a life! I’ve been writing this since AUGUST! But took a 3 month break. I kinda rushed the trial but everything else comes from Russian articles! <3

Early Life

Artyom Alexandrovich Anoufriev

RUSSIAN: Артём Александрович Ануфриев

Born October 4th, 1992, in Irkutsk Russia to mother Nina Ivanovna Anoufrieva and no father had been described positively by classmates despite being an outcast and his hard home life. Including a family friend who had known him ‘from the cradle’ who characterized Artyom as “Artyom is a good-natured boy, polite, I’ve never heard a bad word from him,”. According to his headmaster his mother had taught time to hate people and give given bad grades, would try coerce the teacher into psychologically pressuring her son. Artyom had good grades especially in English and literature, he had also shown interest in music and took lessons for the guitar and double bass. He had also joined, sang and played in a local music group before the groups organizer left.

Artyom as a kid

During his older years Artyom started to mature and became more out going while his grades deteriorated. He shortly graduated high school with sufficiency. In his senior year his class filmed a farewell video, in which everyone gave their opinion on what happiness meant to them. In the video Artyom answer was: "To be honest, I do not know what happiness is. But I would really like to quickly find out what it is.".

After graduation Artyom went onto Irkutsk State Medical University while working at an art museum.

Three months before his arrest Artyoms neighbours reported hearing yelling and banging on the walls, like he was hitting the wall with his fists or running at it full speed. Artyom would yell “I hate everybody” and “I will kill you”. During the investigation Artyom would admit that at times his relationship with his mother was strained, and that he’d fear he wouldn’t be able to prevent himself from killing her. According to Artyoms lawyer, Svetlana Kokareva, he often talked negatively about his mother and called her ‘defective’ as well as a generally negative attitude towards women. Nikita also reportedly experienced similar: his depression worsened, he stopped communication with family and he started experiencing insomnia.

Nikita Vakhtangovich Lytkin

RUSSIAN: Никита Вахтангович Лыткин

Born March 24th, 1993, in Irkutsk Russia to his mother Marina, who worked at a shoe store and to a father who left the family shortly after Nikita was born. His father than married another woman who died shortly after and whose son committed suicide in the wake of his mothers death. Nikita’s father would return but leave after due to his depression from his deceased ex wife. During Nikita’s childhood he would come and go. Many accounts say Nikita was bullied at school and instead of standing up for himself he would just reply with “die.” Because of this, Nikita was given the nickname ‘Jimbo’ as a reference to Jimbo Jones, a bully from ‘the simpsons’.

Nikita as a kid

During junior high Nikita would do very well at studying and had good marks, he did not like math very much and in 5th grade was assigned to a special math class do to poor test results. Besides his good grades, Nikita was unsociable and uncommunicative. One family friend says this is because Nikita was jealous of his classmates with richer families. Because of his poor socialization Nikita started losing relations to friends.

Nikita’s childhood home

Meeting

At a mutual friends birthday party Nikita (10) and Artyom (11) met, with the two studying at the same school but one studying a grade higher. The two quickly grew close and Nikita fell into a deep depression, only trusting Artyom at the time, the two supported each other. Artyoms mother did not support the twos friendship and stated that she thought Nikita would have a bad influence on her son. However, after graduating Artyom would continue to study and even enroll into medical school unlike Artyom, Nikita did not. In several reports Nikita either dropped out of school or got expelled for insufficient grades.

During their friendship the started a punk-rock band called ‘Злые гномы’ the band didn’t last long but in 2008 the band was able to put out an album called ‘Чёрные полосы крови’ (AKA. Black Streaks Of Blood) the pair soon started another band, a noise band, named ‘Расчленённая ПугачОва’ or ‘Dissected PugachOva’.

Violent Interests

The duo both had a common interest of maniacs and murderers. The most relevant being the Irkutsk ‘Blood Money Gang’ in March of 2010. The gang being led by 22-year-old Konstantin Shumkov. Shumkov though he was expelled from his educational institution, wanted to work with children. He gathered a group of teenagers from dysfunctional families to kill 5 homeless people and attack 3 others in 2009. The pair followed the news very closely and even dedicated an album to the gang with songs like “Killing is cool!”, “Massacre at a maternity hospital” and “I killed a homeless man”. Nikita also reportedly made a social media group out of sympathy for the gangs leader named ‘Irkutsk Anti Bom-Gang: Blood Magic’ in the introduction fornthe group the group declares their hopes to continue Shumkovs work.

“The "Dismembered PugachOva" group will continue the work of the "Blood Magic" not only in the musical sense, but also in the real sense. [...] There is no place for posers in our group. Only those who decide the fate of cattle or are only going to start serious actions are allowed. If you are determined, you are here.”

As well, they would most videos of the murders in the groups and told the members to ‘abandon empty posturing and commit at least one murder’

You may wonder how people didn’t think of that as a red flag, well, many visitors thought that the videos they posted were staged and that they were ‘young liars and braggots’.

The two made other social media groups such as "We are gods", "Pichushkin - our president" a reference to a fellow Russian serial killer and "Dissected Pugachova"in reference to their band by the same name. However I could not find what exactly they posted.

Possible Motives

There are a few theories on what the duos motives were, one theory is that they were pushed by Nationalist propaganda. Since for a while Artyom was apart of a white power skinhead group and given the nickname “Fashik- Natsik”. From Artyoms suggestion Nikita would converse online with the skinheads but was ultimately denied part in the group due to his discrediting Ossetian patronymic Vakhtangovich (Iranian-Caucasian decent). Their affiliation with the skinheads didn’t last, as one investigator states ‘they immediately sensed their animal cruelty and rejected them’ another report stated that Artyom felt the groups ideology was ‘too passive and soft’. The then leader of the skinheads ‘Boomer’ stated later in court that ‘Anoufriev felt hatred towards everyone, and did not care whom he killed’. After being arrested in the pre-trial detention room Anoufriev made a message that stated:

"I want to apologize to everyone. My advice to parents: forbid your children to visit sites of nationalistic nature in social networks,"

However, the duo isn’t thought to be hate oriented since they didn’t have any nationality in mind. Nor did they care about homeless people or immigrants. Anoufriev and Lytkin simply hated all of humanity all together and even openly stated it. A motive that both Anoufriev and Lytkin confirm is their desire to imitate other serial killers.

According to Anoufriev the idea of murder was Lytkins.and claimed that it, unlike Lytkin, did not give him the satisfaction he had hoped for. He says he only did it “he put it where it wasn’t necessary” and described Lytkin with "I will just say—he is a leader. He did not influence, but was an instigator of crimes,". However, during the investigation Anoufriev stated that he was planning on moving to St.Petersburg and commit more crimes had he not been arrested. Investigator, Yevgeny Karchevsky reports that Lytkin admitted that he couldn’t have done it alone and stated that “it wasn’t interesting to one” and “Artyom and I did it- I liked it”. Lytkin also stated, like Anoufriev, that he would’ve kept killing had he not been caught.

The two stated they would walk from 6pm - 10pm around the “State University” transport stop in Akademgorodok. They would miss 5-20 people while looking for a suitable victim.

Timeline of Crimes

November 14, 2010 - Anoufriev and Lytkin attacked an 18-year-old Anastasia Markovskaya while she was walking from the 19th school bus stop in the way of the Novo-Irkutsky Village. The two tried bashing her head in to which they were in some reports, scared off, while in others she played dead. Markovskaya reported on the Akademgorodok online forum about the attacked. Where Anoufriev and Lytkin responded and asked her how it felt to be beaten.

November 24, 2010 - the pair attacks an unnamed 46-year-old woman, stealing her bag.

December 1, 2010 - the pair attacks a woman, stealing 500 rubles which they used to buy mallets. Later the same day the pair spotted a 12-year-old Danil Semyonov going down a snowy hill on his sled. Nikita initiated a the idea of killing Semyonov to Artyom since he was a weak victim who couldn’t put up a strong Defense. After catching Semyonov Nikita struck him in the back of the head, knocking him down. Artyom then hit him with a baseball bat, Nikita then stabbed Semyonov in the temple with a penknife. Later when Danils mother and bother had found him and had paramedics called to the scene. However, after being caught in a traffic jam, Semyonov was dead before arrival. On Semyonov’s arm was found a hematoma (also known as, a bruise) curating the idea he either fought back or was grabbed roughly. The next day his sled was found in good condition. Semyonovs parents and police didn’t think it was a homicide and instead an accident, that he simply hit a birch tree at high speeds. However later Anoufriev and Lytkin stated that the boy was simply ‘training’ for them. He was the first victim killed.

December 16, 2010 - nearly 20m from the spot Semyonov was killed, a 69-year-old Olga Mikhailovna was found. Olga had been a researcher at the Research Institute for solar and terrestrial physics. The pair killed her quickly unlike Semyonov. She was found with 30 knife wounds. Nikita and Artyom had also made an audio recording discussing how they’d kill her, after which they recorded the murder.

December 29, 2010 - The pair first attacked 29-year-old Valentinovna Svetlova at 6am, who escaped. The pair only took her purse which they then threw out. She miraculously survived her attack. An hour after her attack 22 year-old coach Yekaterina Karpova, Karpova was pregnant during her attack while walking home with her 6-year-old niece Olga Averina. While walking to the railroad Karpova reported that she saw the pair but didn’t engage. While crossing the railroad the two were attacked by Nikita and Artyom, Averina managed to escape with being hit by Nikita in the sides, later being diagnosed with extensive hematoma in the liver area. Karpova had, had her skull crushed in and fingers snapped despite screaming that she was pregnant. The killers were scared off by a car pulling out from around the corner. In result to this, Karpova and her pregnancy miraculously survived.

January 1, 2011 - Around 5am Artyom and Nikita attacked a homeless man who lived near some garbage cans, inflicting 40 hit to him as well as smashing his head in with mallets. He died later in hospital and has been deemed ‘Corpse No.20’ since authorities couldn’t identify the man.

On January 15th a 19-year-old homeless man named Vladimir Bazilevsky, who had bloodied clothes was detained on suspicion of the previous murder. During the interview he told officials that he had spent the night in a sewer well however, officials began to make him believe otherwise and how Bazilevsky put it “Knocked a murder confession” out of him. After more investigation he was wrongfully convicted of murder and in April of 2011 was sentenced to 4 years. After the actual killers were arrested, DNA of the blood on his clothes didn’t match any of the victims. In May of 2012 after serving over a year and a half of prison time, Bazilevsky was released and all charges against him were dropped.

January 30, 2011 - The pair attacked a student named Oleg Semyonov who was returning home from a night club. He survived with head wounds, a concussion and traumatic brain injury.

February 3, 2011 - The pair attacks an unidentified elderly woman whom survived with a head injury.

February 8-9 date unknown, 2011 - At night the pair attacks another woman whom survived due to a passing by car.

February 21, 2011 - While walking home drunk from visiting his sister Alexander Petrovich Maximov was attacked and killed. His jaw and head had been completely broken, as well he had been decapitated with remainders of his skull being found afterwards. Lytkin shot him in the head with a Baikal air pistol and Anoufriev had tried to remove his eyes, but ultimately failed lacking the proper knowledge. Maximov had a closed casket funeral, unable to have an open casket.

February 27, 2011 - Lytkin single-handedly attacked a woman by the name of Nina Kuzmina whom was sitting on a bench located on Lermontov St. Lytkin hit her twice in the head, but because of Kuzmina making a ‘fuss’ a nearby man looking out his window scared Lytkin off, taking the woman’s phone with him. Kuzmina survived.

March 11 , 2011 - On a walkway near the State university bus stop, Anoufriev and Lytkin killed a homeless man by the name of Roman Faizullin. Anoufriev shot him in the face before the pair dragged him behind some bushes and off the street. The pair stabbed Faizullin in the head, chest and groin. Lytkin had attempted to cut the mans hand off but only managed his pinky finger. Later Anoufriev photographed the corpse from his apartment window since it was near.

After this attack a rally was held in the area to discuss what precautions and measures should be put in place. Anoufriev and Lytkin would go to these rallies and meetings, they would share ideas about the killers and would video tape the meetings. By this time police had already figured out that the killer was between ages 16-18 and set up patrol cars that would tour the area to reduce other attacks (which didn’t work). Still in the area there was misinformation which lead to the citizens fearing that the killer was a guy in his 30s.

The pair then gained the name the “Academy Maniacs” via a journalist for the Komsomolskaya Pravda, Olga Lipchinskaya since nobody could identify the boys.

??, 2011 - On an unknown date the pair attacked a homeless woman whom survived the attack due to an off duty police officer seeing the pair from out his window.

??, 2011 - on another unknown date the pair attacked a woman using a screwdriver. Since the place was crowded the pair left and the woman survived.

April 3, 2011 - The last of the pairs crimes. The two killed a 63-year-old homeless woman named Alevtina Kuydina. The woman was killed near a research institute, after killing her the pair filmed a video. On the video, filmed by Anoufriev, Lytkin can be seen cutting the woman’s earlobe off with a knife after being scolded by Anoufriev for not covering the knife in case of finger prints. Lytkin then tried to cut the woman’s hand off and gouge her eyes. When he couldn’t, he instead struck a knife directly into her eye and started stabbing. Later they dropped the woman’s earlobe off at the porch of a school. Anoufriev send the video to an online friend from St.Petersburg named Ilya Ustinov or known as online “Solomon Gojo” who said the video was sluggish he still however, distributed the video online.

Investigation/ Arrests

Investigators and police didn’t suspect the attacks to be from the same people, since the victims had no relation or anything alike. The investigation lasted months while the town was left in fear. But because of the crime spanning in such a small area the police were able to piece together a sketch of the suspects. The portraits were even sent to the workplace of Lytkins grandmother, the institute of organic chemistry, she noticed how the portrait looked eerily similar to her grandson. She sent her son Vladislav, Lytkins uncle, to his house to question Nikita. Once he got there nobody was home, Nikita having gone out for a walk (but suspected victim hunting). Nikita’s uncle however, found the camera he had lended him, on the camera he saw the video that the pair had filmed prior. After discussing, the family handed the video over to police and soon Lytkin was arrested, Anoufriev following shortly after. Prior to the arrest Lytkins mother had found a knife packaged in the hallway or in other sources, his pocket. When asked about the knife he simply stated it was for Defense.

A little piece of Trial

On March 6 of 2013 Lytkin stated that Anoufriev didn’t participate in four of the attacks and instead someone else accompanied him, Lytkin did give names but they were never publicly disposed. Lytkin also stated he had other accomplices however it’s theorized that he made this up to slow down the investigation. One day at the detention centre Lytkin told his mother "Why do they make the devil out of Artyom and I am so white and fluffy? We are both to blame. He is no worse and no better than me, we committed murders together." Anoufriev states that the police pressed Lytkin using threat of solitary. Lytkins grandmother also published an open letter claiming that she blamed Television, democracy, the internet, satanists and pornography for Lytkins corruption.

During the trial each boy had taken a different defence, Lytkin took leniency on him being a minor at the time of the crime and Anoufriev cause he had only pleaded guilty to 1 count of murder.

Sentencing, Transfers & Where they are now

Artyom:

On April 2nd 2013, Irkutsk Regional Court sentenced Anoufriev to life imprisonment in a special regime colony. On January 27th, 2014, Anoufriev was transferred to Ognenny Ostrov in the Vologda Oblast. After transferring, Anoufriev stated in interviews that he did not agree with the sentence and that his family was trying to get him out on parole, as well, he also stated that he was working on a book but did not explain what it was about. And in Febuary of 2017 Anoufriev stated that he had been studying Law at The University of Latvia.

Artyom during the trial in the defendant cage

Nikita:

Also on April 2nd, 2013,Lytkin was sentenced to 24 years imprisonment with 5 of those to be soent in prison. Around October,2013, Lytkins sentenced was reduced to 20 years seeing as he was a minor during the events. Lytkin had made many transfers to prisons including:

Nikita during the trial in the defendants cage

December, 2013- transferred from Irkutsk Colony to Sakha Republic

??, 2015- transferred to Kemerovo Correctional Colony No.41, where a psychologist had discovered he was dealing with a mental disorder

August, 2016- The prison attempted to transfer Lytkin to a psychiatric hospital however, the day before he attacked an inmate ,hoping that he would be transferred to the same colony as Anoufriev, instead on June

1st, 2017, the court ruled he was a dangerous repeat offender and sentenced to 11 years.

??, 2018- Lytkin was transferred to Angarsk Correctional Colony No.7

On the morning of November 28th, 2021, Lytkin was found in his cell with severe self inflicted wounds on his arms. Paramedics rushed him to Angarsk City Hospital, where on November 30th he was pronounced dead. Lytkins inmates stated that he had been subjected to bullying and others state he had threatened to do it when his sentence wasn’t reduced furthermore and when he wasn’t transferred to the same facility as Anoufriev.

#liveralone #tccblr #tc community #tcc columbine #true cringe community #tcc tumblr #eric columbine #recipes by vivi #eric and dylan #dylan columbine #artyom anoufriev #nikita lytkin #nikita and artyom #academy maniacs #the academy maniacs #irkutsk molotochniki #info post

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jungwnies · 8 days ago

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f1 rookies | finals season

୨ৎ : featuring : kimi antonelli, ollie bearman, isack hadjar, jack doohan, gabriel bortoleto, and liam lawson ୨ৎ : synopsis (requested by anon) : the 2025 f1 rookies try to help their high school senior girlfriends with essays in subjects they’re terrible at...except for one smarty-pants.

୨ৎ : genre : comedy & fluff ୨ৎ : word count : 2061

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : no race this weekend ... unfortunate.

ʚ・kimi antonelli

you sighed dramatically, forehead pressed against the cool surface of your desk, your statistics textbook open to a page that looked more like ancient runes than math.

kimi peeked into your room, hair still damp from his post-training shower. “you okay?”

“no,” you groaned. “i have to write a proof essay for stats and i don't even know what the question is asking. like. what even is a chi-square test? is it edible?”

kimi padded over, curious despite the visible fear creeping into his eyes the closer he got to the math. “show me.”

you pushed the textbook toward him like it was radioactive.

he sat beside you, peering at the assignment sheet, lips moving silently as he tried to read it.

“…it’s just numbers,” he said finally, like he was offering wisdom from the gods.

“not just numbers!” you cried. “it’s probabilities. it's… math with extra steps and suffering.”

he frowned, tilting his head. “okay. maybe… we do it like a race.”

you blinked. “a race?”

he nodded, warming up to the idea. “look — the data points are like racers. the chi-square thingy tells you if they finished where they were supposed to finish or if something weird happened. like… if max verstappen somehow finished last.”

you stared at him.

“that’s actually—” you blinked. “that’s… kind of good.”

kimi perked up immediately, straightening in his chair. “yeah?”

“yeah! like expected vs. observed outcomes.”

he grinned, proud like he just set a world record. “see? i’m a genius.”

you giggled, reaching out to ruffle his damp curls. “you’re a genius and my emotional support calculator.”

he flushed slightly, smiling as he leaned over your notes. “okay, now write that down. but make it sound smarter.”

together, you cobbled together a rough outline — him offering racing analogies every five minutes, you translating them into statistics lingo — and slowly, your essay started to take shape.

by the end of the night, you were half asleep on his shoulder, your laptop still open, and kimi was scrolling through chi-square memes on his phone like he was actually invested.

“next time,” he mumbled, kissing your forehead, “pick an easier subject. like, uh… tire pressure.”

ʚ・ollie bearman

you flopped onto your bed dramatically, clutching your crumpled list of socratic seminar questions to your chest.

ollie sat at your desk, spinning lazily in your chair, sneakers kicking the floor. "alright, hit me," he said confidently. "what’s the topic?"

"free will versus determinism," you mumbled.

the spinning stopped. "versus… what now?"

"basically if we’re actually making our own choices or if everything’s already determined by fate or whatever."

he blinked. "that’s—" he paused. spun half a turn. "that’s horrible."

"right?"

you sat up, tossing the paper at him. he caught it clumsily, holding it like it was evidence in a murder trial.

"okay," he said bravely. "let's prepare. like sparring. you ask the question. i'll answer. we'll crush it."

you grinned, feeling slightly more hopeful. "alright. first question: do humans have free will?"

he sat up straighter, nodded like a professor. "yes. obviously. i chose to have cereal for breakfast instead of toast."

you stared.

he stared back.

"expand on that," you said, trying not to laugh.

"i… woke up. thought about toast. but then thought about cereal. then chose cereal. therefore: free will," he said, counting on his fingers like he was delivering the sermon on the mount.

"that’s not exactly the level they’re expecting," you said gently.

he looked personally offended. "what do they want from me? a thesis?"

you giggled, crawling over and tapping his forehead. "less toast. more philosophy."

he groaned dramatically, throwing himself backward into the chair. "you know what? tell them life is like… racing."

you blinked. "go on."

"you think you're choosing everything — when to brake, when to turn — but a lot of it’s already decided by where you start, how good the car is, who’s around you." he shrugged. "you're choosing. but also, you’re not."

you stared at him, jaw dropping slightly.

"wait. that’s… actually brilliant."

he looked smug. "yeah. i have like… two brain cells. but they’re powerful."

you burst out laughing, shoving his chair lightly. "you're my philosophical weapon, bearman."

he grinned, reaching out to boop your nose. "go in there, say something about cereal and racing, and you’ll win life."

ʚ・isack hadjar

you sighed dramatically, slumping over your laptop. “isack. i’m going to fail biology.”

he flopped onto your bed like a ragdoll, arms spread wide. “what’s the topic?”

you pointed to your screen. “i have to write a research paper on parasitic mind control.”

he sat up immediately, looking way too excited. “like zombies?”

you nodded grimly. “fungus that takes over ants' brains. worms that control fish. it’s horrific.”

isack beamed like you just told him christmas came early. “that’s so sick.”

you gave him a look. “yeah. sick. and confusing. and complicated. and i have no idea where to start.”

he scooted closer, peering at your half-typed notes. "okay okay okay. listen. this is easy."

you raised an eyebrow. "you failed high school biology."

"details," he said, waving a hand. "first, write something dramatic. grab their attention."

you frowned. “like what?”

he grinned. "start it like: 'imagine you're walking through the jungle… and a fungus eats your brain from the inside out.'”

you blinked. "that's… actually kind of good?"

"i'm french," he said smugly. "we know drama."

you laughed, slumping against him. "okay, what about the actual science part?"

he shrugged. "google it?"

you gave him another look.

he grinned wider. "or we make it up."

"isack."

"kidding! kidding!" he said, throwing his hands up. "we'll be semi accurate."

you sighed, grabbing your textbook again. "alright, fine. help me brainstorm."

two hours later, your "brainstorm" session had devolved into him pitching increasingly insane theories about zombie ants building secret underground cities and whether or not humans were already infected without knowing it.

(you were 60% sure he wasn’t joking.)

by the end of the night, your essay actually had a strong intro, a rough outline, and a lot of isack’s terrible but weirdly inspiring ideas scribbled in the margins.

he flopped onto the bed dramatically as you typed. "you're welcome for the nobel prize."

you laughed. "you’re lucky you’re cute."

"obviously," he said, already dozing off beside you.

ʚ・jack doohan

you groaned, flopping onto your desk dramatically, your french textbook sliding dangerously close to the edge.

jack leaned over your shoulder, chewing gum casually like he wasn’t about to experience a full-blown existential crisis. "what's wrong?"

"i have to write a whole essay in french," you moaned. "about my childhood memories. and i can barely even say bonjour without crying."

he grinned. "alright, alright. let’s do it together. how hard can it be?"

you gave him a flat look. "do you even speak french?"

jack paused.

then, without missing a beat: "no. but i know how to say croissant."

you buried your face in your arms.

"okay, okay," he said, standing up dramatically. "don’t panic. i have resources."

you peeked up at him. "resources?"

he pulled out his phone, typing aggressively. "pierre gasly. we’re calling for backup."

you stared at him. "jack. you can’t just facetime pierre for my homework."

"watch me."

three rings later, pierre’s blurry, confused face appeared on screen. "mate? everything okay?"

jack grinned, tilting the phone so pierre could see you buried under a pile of french worksheets. "yeah bro, can you help my girl with her french essay? she's suffering."

pierre blinked. smirked. "of course. what’s the topic?"

"childhood memories," you mumbled from under your arm.

pierre laughed. "easy. start with quand j'étais petit(e), je… then you just lie for the next five sentences."

jack nodded like he was absorbing ancient wisdom. "got it. lie. good plan."

you giggled despite yourself, sitting up. pierre rattled off a few starter phrases, jack repeating them horribly with a thick aussie accent that made you laugh so hard you almost fell off your chair.

thirty minutes later, you had the rough beginnings of an essay — half of it thanks to pierre, half of it thanks to jack’s chaotic moral support.

when you finally hung up, jack grinned, ruffling your hair.

"see? teamwork."

you beamed at him. "you’re ridiculous."

"and you’re gonna ace it," he said confidently. "just… maybe don’t pronounce anything the way i did."

ʚ・gabriel bortoleto

you slumped dramatically against the back of your chair, spinning aimlessly as your world history textbook lay open on your desk.

gabriel leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, smiling knowingly. “homework?”

"yeah," you groaned. "i have to write a five-page essay about how the roman empire influenced modern society."

he perked up instantly. "i love the roman empire."

you blinked. "of course you do."

he jogged over, pulling up a chair like he was about to host a ted talk. "okay, first of all — aqueducts. engineering marvels. you have to mention aqueducts."

you scribbled it down obediently. "aqueducts. got it."

"and roads," he added, already starting to gesture with his hands. "they basically invented the highway system. you ever think about that? roman highways."

you nodded, typing faster.

"and then there’s the legal system!" he continued, eyes sparkling. "so much of what we use today — courts, contracts, property laws — came from roman principles."

you stared at him, slightly overwhelmed. "how do you know all this?"

he shrugged, grinning. "i read. also, tiktok sometimes. but mostly reading."

you giggled, glancing at the growing list of topics he was rattling off. "okay, but i need, like, structure."

"structure!" he clapped his hands dramatically. "introduction: why the roman empire mattered. body paragraphs: engineering, law, military, politics. conclusion: the vibes are still alive today."

you snorted. "did you just say vibes in an academic plan?"

he winked. "scholarly vibes."

you tried to focus, typing as he ranted — but soon enough he was deep-diving into random side topics like roman concrete, weird emperors, and the fact that vending machines were technically invented by ancient engineers (somehow???).

“gabriel!” you finally laughed, cutting him off mid-rant about julius caesar's calendar reforms. “stay on topic!”

he blinked innocently. “i am on topic.”

you giggled, reaching out to squeeze his hand. “you're my favorite chaotic historian.”

“and you're welcome for the best essay of your life,” he said, proudly tossing your pen onto the bed.

ʚ・liam lawson

you groaned, dramatically sliding down the couch until you were nearly horizontal, a stack of history books balancing dangerously on your stomach.

liam glanced over from where he was gaming on the floor. "what's wrong now, princess?"

"i have to write an essay about the economic effects of the industrial revolution," you mumbled. "for advanced history."

he paused his game.

turned.

and gave you the most falsely confident smile you’d ever seen.

"easy," he said, tossing his controller aside. "i know all about that."

you blinked. "you do?"

"yeah," he said, nodding seriously. "the industrial revolution… that’s when people invented factories. and, uh… steam. steam was big."

you stared.

"lots of steam," he added, deadpan.

"liam."

he grinned. "okay, fine, i don’t know shit. but i am great at making things sound convincing."

you laughed, tossing a pillow at him.

he crawled over, plopping next to you, skimming your textbook like it was written in alien language. "alright, so… just say that people started making stuff faster. like, mass production. and the economy got booming. profit. money. cha-ching."

you scribbled a few notes, giggling. "you’re literally just saying capitalism noises."

"exactly!" he said proudly. "that's history, babe."

you groaned, but couldn't stop smiling. he peeked over your shoulder at your half-written paragraph.

"also mention… pollution," he said, squinting at a random heading in your book. "people were coughing and stuff. very historical."

you laughed harder, shoulders shaking. "you're the worst tutor."

"and yet, you're smiling," he teased, bumping your shoulder.

you shook your head, finishing your messy draft while he threw in random "facts" like, "probably some guy tried to steam-power a horse" and "definitely child labor, don't forget that."

when you finally set your pen down, exhausted but a little triumphant, liam wrapped his arms around you from behind.

"see? history made easy. just add steam, money, and mild suffering."

you leaned back into him, laughing. "remind me to never let you help me again."

he smirked against your hair. "you’ll come back. i’m irresistible."

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yandereend · 1 year ago

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Yandere Househusband

How he met his spouse

TW: usual yandere stuff, male yandere, obsessive behavior, yandere wants children

Please keep in mind that English is not my native language thanks💛

P. 1 please let me know if you want more

P.2💛

Doesn’t everyone just hope to one day find the perfect partner and settle down with them, start a family and live happily ever after. Thats exactly what our little Tyler always wanted.

Tyler came from a nice home, he was an only child but his parents had a lot of love for him, and even more for each other. He always admired his parents relationship, his father being the strong breadwinner and his mother being the docile housewife. It was the perfect relationship in Tylers eyes and there was nothing he wanted more than to have that too.

In school Tyler couldn’t care less about his grades, it’s not like he was incapable of learning, quite the opposite but he didn’t see a reason to spend his time learning about math or physics if he wanted to be a househusband anyways. Thats right my dear readers Tyler was just waiting to find the right spouse to settle down with.

So for that reason alone he always made an effort to appear put together and pretty in school, he was lucky to have enough confidence to not let others opinions about his appearance affect him. So he was always helpful, nice and friendly to everyone. But even with his best efforts he couldn’t find the one. Thanks to his obsessive nature he often over thought his love life and if he will end up alone. (Your in 10th grade chill dude)

All that until the greatest day of his life were he met you. You were the new student and he immediately volunteered to show you around, became your partner in assignments and your new best friend.

To be honest you were smitten by Tyler, nobody gave you that much attention before and it wasn’t long before the schools pretty boy was your boyfriend. Tyler was thrilled that everyone in the school knew that you were his and he yours. And oh dear how Tyler admired you, you were so attractive, strong, smart and capable. He was so excited to finally settle down (dudes only 17), after graduation.

And Tyler always wanted to impress you, he would join his mother while cooking making sure to pack your lunch, clean your room while he visited you and even did your laundry. Wait didn’t you have more underwear?

And in exchange he just wanted to be pampered back. He would give you his bag if it was heavy, would depend on you for homework and always expected you to stand up to the jocks when they made fun of his more feminine clothes.

And oh did I mention that Tyler was a little bit manipulative, just a tad bit but I mean why would you need friends, you can go shopping with Tyler. Your family goes on vacation? Ditch them and go with Tylers family instead, they have the money don’t worry. You should also consider his parents, they were so supportive of him and you, his dad even showed you the family business if you wanna inherit it.

So when your graduation day finally came you and Tyler hosted a party together, and after you had a few drinks Tyler dropped on his knee and asked the big question, to which you in your tipsy state happily agreed.

So don’t be surprised when 2 months later Tylers parents bought you two a house (yes they’re that rich), your Tylers dads new intern and your lovely fiancé plans the most romantic wedding ever. And hey, there’s no escaping now darling.

Thanks for reading please let me know if you enjoyed it 💛

#yandere fic #yandere community #obsessive yandere #yandere core #yandere x reader #yandere househusband #soft yandere #sub yandere #yandere fanfiction #yandere bf #yandere x darling #yandere stories #yandere imagines #yandere intro #yandere writing #yandere male #yandere x y/n #yandere concept #yandere

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darlinluxx · 4 months ago

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𝐒𝐈𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐀𝐑 | 𝐊𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐀𝐄 𝐁𝐘𝐄𝐎𝐊 ౨ৎ

pairing : saebyeok x fem!reader

fluff

warnings : none

summary : Cheol starts seeing you as a mother figure

a/n : inspired by @karli6 comment on one of my posts bc it’s so cute i couldn’t not write about it

𝐓he scent of lavender fills your small apartment, a comforting aroma that’s become synonymous with Saebyeok. it’s a stark contrast to the grit of her life, the harsh edges that you know so well, and a gentle reminder of the soft woman beneath. you’re perched on the edge of the couch, a half-finished crossword puzzle abandoned in your lap. Saebyeok is at the small table, her brow furrowed in concentration as she counts the meager money spread out before her.

you watch her, a fondness blossoming in your chest. you love that even in her moments of vulnerability, there’s a strength that radiates from her. it’s the same strength that protects her younger brother, Cheol.

speaking of Cheol, a small, hesitant cough echoes from the doorway. you look up and see him, his backpack slung low on his shoulders, his eyes large and uncertain. he’s holding out a crumpled sheet of paper.

“i… i need some help.” he mumbles, his gaze darting between you and Saebyeok.

Saebyeok glances up, her expression softening as she notices Cheol. “homework again?” she sighs, a hint of exasperation in her voice. she picks up a pen, ready to tackle the task at hand. but Cheol shakes his head, his focus locked on you.

“not for you.” she shuffled closer, his gaze imploring. “can you help me, please?”

your heart melts. it’s not that Saebyeok isn’t good at academics, but her way of teaching sometimes involves a lot of direct answers, whereas you prefer a more patient, guiding approach. you know that Cheol can be easily intimated, and perhaps you offer a calmer space for him to learn.

you set aside your crossword and smile, beckoning him closer. “of course, Cheol. let me see.”

he practically barrels himself into the space next to you on the couch, his small body warm against your side. as you smooth out the paper, you see it’s a math problem involving fractions, a subject dreaded by many young students.

“okay,” you say, pointing to the equation with a pen. “this looks a little tricky, but we can break it down. what do you think about first finding the common denominator?”

you spend the next half hour patiently explaining the concepts, drawing diagrams on scrap paper, and gently nudging him towards the solution. you praise him for every small victory, and his eyes light up each time he grasps a new idea. you realize these moments are precious. you enjoy being able to support and teach him.

Saebyeok watches from the table, a subtle smile playing on her lips. when you finally help Cheol arrive at the correct answer, he bursts into a grin, his satisfaction radiating through the room.

“thanks! you’re the best!” he declares, his eyes shining with newfound confidence. he scrambles off the couch, heading to his room, leaving a trail of discarded papers in his wake.

you turn to Saebyeok, a warm feeling settling in your chest. “he’s a smart kid, just needs a little encouragement.”

she nods, her eyes holding a complex mix of affection and almost… relief? “yeah.” she says quietly, returning to the money.

over the next few weeks, you notice a pattern forming. Cheol starts seeking you out for help with his homework more often. it’s never forced, always a gentle request. and you never refuse. you find yourself looking forward to the quiet evenings spent poring over textbooks and diagrams with Cheol. it’s a nice change of pace from the anxiety and fear that usually permeates both his and Saebyeok’s lives.

sometimes. he even asks for help with things beyond schoolwork. it’s in these seemingly mundane moments, as you help him, that you feel a strange connection to Cheol, like you’re something more than just his sister’s girlfriend.

one evening, as you’re helping him with a particularly challenging history assignment, Cheol pauses, his small fingers tracing the outline of an illustration in his textbook. he looks up at you, his eyes wide and earnest.

“you’re like mom,” he says, the words spilling out before he can think them through. “she used to help me with my homework too.”

a wave of emotion washes over you. it’s not even a conscious decision, but you pull him into a gentle hug, holding him close. it’s a bittersweet revelation. his mother is a gaping hole in both their lives, a void you can’t ever hope to truly fill. but if you can offer him a semblance of stability, of care, it’s something you desperately want to do.

you feel Saebyeok’s eyes on you from across the room. you look up and lock her eyes. she’s watching you with a soft smile on her face, a silent understanding passing between you. she knows the weight you carry with Cheol’s words, and she knows the strength you hold within as well.

you squeeze Cheol gently, kissing the top of his head. “well, i’ll try my best, okay?” you say, before returning to the history book, a different kind of warmth filling the space within your small, lavender-scented apartment. it’s more than just homework, it’s the beginning of something that feels like family. and you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

#kang sae byeok #kang saebyeok #sae byeok #saebyeok #kang sae byeok x reader #kang saebyeok x reader #sae byeok x reader #saebyeok x reader #squid game #squid game x reader

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comicaurora · 1 year ago

Note

I'm sorry that the terfs made their way onto your blog but it does feel good to see you support trans people. Thank you for that

Always.

I think, charitably, that the discourse going down on that post is an extrapolation and over-focus on one element of the point I was making: that for me, determining with certainty that I was cis was a rather fraught process. I was presented with many alternatives, but underlying their imposition on me was the oddly regressive idea that the things I liked, the principles I valued, the parts of myself I was proud of were not permitted of women. My whole life I got smacked with the background radiation that I couldn't like being strong because women aren't allowed to be stronger than men. I couldn't like being loud and boistrous because women aren't allowed to take up space. I couldn't be a math geek because women aren't smart. It was all deeply regressive misogyny from day one, but I started getting hit with it slathered in a fresh coat of paint - all those assumptions still held to be true, but now there was the out that I could do all those things if I just wasn't a woman.

Concluding that the underlying bioessentialist premise was wrong was very important. Absolutely none of those statements were true, and were only ever maintained by cultural saturation, goalpost-readjustment when they were actively disproven, and the occasional bout of lying with statistics to pretend they weren't just Shit All The Way Down. The core premise that certain things were only permitted of or possible for men was bullshit, and I didn't need to surrender the gender I liked best in order to play in the spaces I wanted to. I could simply exist the way I was already existing. I didn't need anything else.

The misinterpretation is the assumption that this being true of me means this is everybody's relationship with gender. I turned out to be cis, so for me, feeling that holding onto my assigned gender wasn't allowed was distressing - just another invocation of the same bioessentialist bullshit I'd been dealing with since the preschool playground. This is because misgendering is fundamentally denying that a person has the right to express themself the way they want. When aimed at me, it says I'm not performing traditional femininity well enough to deserve my pronouns. The same disrespect is the root of misgendering when aimed at trans people. "Perform your gender to my satisfaction or I will confiscate it."

The problem is, bioessentialism is 100% ingrained into the terf playbook, which is why, for instance, all their shitty talking points about trans athletes eventually boil down to "no woman can ever defeat a man in any contest because we are simply naturally weak and stupid and there is nothing we can do about it" and quite frankly nothing disgusts me more than the defeatist acceptance of the very lie that feminism is dedicated to overcoming. Instead of accepting that the paradigm of bioessentialism is a false dichotomy right from the jump, they embrace and weaponize it against the people whose existence proves the dichotomy is a lie. If gender essentialism is fundamentally false, then it is nobody's fucking business what anybody does with their gender. If the lines don't exist, nobody needs to enforce them. And yet there the terfs go, hunting down people whose lives are none of their business and trying to argue that they represent some great and terrible evil, some downfall of society made flesh, something that makes it totally correct and normal for them to spend so much time thinking about strangers' genitalia. They want this to be a noble crusade so badly they won't even examine what flag they're flying.

I love and support the trans people in my life and will always, always stand on the side of your right to exist, but alongside that, terf rhetoric especially disgusts and infuriates me because it is, at its heart, utter cowardice. The world told them they were weak and stupid and inferior and they fucking believed it. And now they think Fighting The Good Fight For Women means turning around and using the same paradigmatic weapon that hurt them to hurt the people whose existence outside the binary proves the weapon is a lie. They're the same shithead schoolyard bullies who made me believe my entire existence was foundationally wrong for years of my life and I will never, ever side with them or the shitty, cowardly rhetoric that contributed to the loneliest years of my life.

Figure out who you are and do it on purpose. Find the real source of the misery in your life and try fighting that instead of the other crabs in the bucket. Trans rights.

#asks #not aurora

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fredswrite · 17 days ago

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A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY PEEPAW HAYDEN!! Omg he’s turning 44 can’t believe it. So this is part 1 of this little fics I’m making for his bday. Part 1 is cute fluff and part 2 is slightttt smut.

WC: 1.2k

SUMMARY: Celebrating your husband birthday with a surprise party was something your daughter loved doing. // Reader is in her 30’s and for the sake of it the daughter doesn’t have a name.

MLST // PART2

BIRTHDAY PARTY

Hayden was always a "Birthdays aren’t important" guy. So when your 8-year-old daughter told you she wanted to do something for her father, who could have told her no?

It started with subtitles question now and then coming from the two most important women in his life.

"What is your favorite color?"

"What is your favorite sport?"

"Chocolate or Vanilla?"

You figured out how to get the answer by the giggle of your daughter. And as the little spy that she was, she got everything noted down in the notebook you gave her a few months ago.

So when Hayden was out to buy farm groceries, she sat down on your lap and began reciting all the important details she wanted to put on the party.

"Daddy likes blue, hockey and vanilla!" She explained with excitement.

"Do you know what hockey team? We could buy him a hat if you’d like?" You already knew the answer, your husband only ever had one team on his mind, the one he grew up in.

"Maple leaf!" She said all smiling. "Can we go now?"

"He’s going to come back soon. We can go buy everything tomorrow after school if you’d like." You chuckled, softly drawing patterns in her hair.

She quickly agreed and ranted about her days and the work she had to do. From the math homework to her friend breaking an arm, you looked at her face, the same one you fell in love with.

When the door opened, she shushed her voice and ran to the entryway, waiting for her father.

"Daddy!" She exclaimed and jumped in a hug. Hayden let the bags down to catch her up.

Her smaller arms wrapped around his chest while he supported her waist, she wasn’t 3 anymore and he wasn’t 20 either.

"Hey love, how was your day?" He groaned softly as he pulled her down again. He smiled softly at you in the living room when he spotted you.

"It was good, work was great."

He walked to the chair you were sitting on, enveloping your lips in a tender kiss as you raised your head toward him.

"I bought food for the pigs and fertilizer." Hayden added, going after the bags he left in front of the door. He then took them to the garage that lead outside.

Once he came back, you were already getting the ingredients out for a home taco night. Tortillas, minced steak, cheese, tomato, lettuce, pepper and onion.

He wrapped his hand from behind you, resting his head in the crook of your neck, giving you gentle kisses.

"You might need to help her, I don’t think her math assignments are gonna do themselves alone."

He let out one of his usual deep chuckles; "Yeah, I’ll do that."

So here you two where, going from one shop to another to get him the best gifts. To make sure you didn’t forget anything, you had a list with everything you were planning to buy.

• A Toronto Maple Leaf cap.

• A big blue cake written on it "Happy Birthday Daddy."

• Different types of spices for meat seasoning.

• A gift card for his favorite golf shop.

• A new watch.

• Blue and white balloon.

• Bright coloring pen mostly for your daughter

(And a red lingerie set you wouldn’t buy with her around.)

After what seemed like hours of research, you both found everything you wanted. Lucky you, Hayden was out for a Comicon in the state, which gave you two days to prepare before he came back.

Your child had it all planned, you would hide when you heard the sound of the door opening and scream "Surprise!" when he walked inside the living room with the gifts displayed and the balloon holding onto it.

"Not this one mom! This one!" She pointed to another shade of blue as she drew the card for Hayden. A truly beautiful drawing of the house they lived in with leaves in the bottom.

"See now the sky is different than from the lake." She smiled proudly at her work, she was quite talented for an eight-year-old.

"I see honey." A grain displayed on your face as you wrapped different gifts in a again blue and gray paper wrapper.

"Do you want to sign too?" She questioned, raising the handmade card to your face. Her little eyes sparkled with joy and excitement.

You opened the letter and wrote a little sentence under her lovely paragraph. "Another year of love with you, couldn’t be more grateful. Happy birthday, I love you Hay xx."

You let go of the gifts when you heard your phone ringing with a notification. Taking it out of your pocket, you noticed it came from the man himself.

Hey love, how are you two doing?

You smiled as you read. You could never get rid of his sweet gesture.

Doing great, missing you though :)

Three small dots appeared as you waited for his text.

I’ll be back soon xx

"Mom, what are you doing?" A little voice stirred you back to reality. You showed her the text before asking playfully;

"Do you want to send Daddy a pic? Make a grimace."

You both stuck your tongues out, before laughing at the result. Clicking on the sent button in the bottom corner, It wasn’t long before you could read at the bottom of the screen that he saved it to his phone and replied with a smiling emoji.

Two days later, a cake was in the living room, gifts and balloons were all over the place, and all that was missing was your husband. You couldn’t deny it; you were just as excited as your child was.

She was jumping all over the house, stumbling on her feet as she waited for Hayden to cross the door. Every five minutes, she would ask you when was he getting there.

"Be patient honey, you don’t wanna ruin the surprise before he even gets here." You giggled, and she responded with a groan.

Barely fifty minutes later, you heard his car pull up in the entry. It was your cue to go to your hiding spot. Step by step, he got closer to you, until he reached the door and opened it gently. He knew you were in since the door was unlocked.

"I’m home!" He said, hoping to hear the familiar voices he loved, but he heard nothing.

"Someone’s here?" He questioned again, no responses. He would lie if he said he wasn't worried.

But all the worries of the world disappeared when he saw the blue decorations and heard both of your voices yell surprise in unison.

"Happy birthday Daddy!" As usual, she ran to his arms with the brightest smile on her face. She hugged him hard enough to make up for the two days he spent without her.

Once he let go of her, you made your way to him, enveloping him in your warm embrace.

"Happy birthday honey."

He kissed you, his hand rubbing gently at your cheeks. "Thank you love." He mumbled in your ear.

Your loving moment was stopped by a hand gripping your two hands apart. "Dad! Come open your presents, mine first!!"

And with that, he opened the cards followed by the maple leaf cap you bought in her name. He smiled before putting it on.

"Wow, that’s so cool. But you know you’re my best birthday present." He gently tapped on her nose with a grin.

And your heart melted at the sight of the two most beautiful people in your world.

#hayden christensen #anakin skywalker #fredswrite #anakin skywalker x reader #hayden christensen x reader #anakin x reader #fred’s one shot #stephen glass #sam monroe #james kelly #hayden christensen fluff #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker fluff

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ivys-garden · 5 months ago

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Another season, a new winner, another card flipped over.

It is that time again, blessed listeners, to assign a winner a new Tarot Card.

For those joining us are previous cards in the Tarot Symbolism are:

Grian: “The Sun”

Scott: “The Star”

Pearl: “The Moon”

Martyn: “The Tower”

Scar: “Wheel Of Fortune”

Cleo: “King Of Swords” (liable to change if there's not another special one off event)

And so, what is the card of Joel? Why, it could only be...

THE CHARIOT

In tarot The Chariot represents confidence, willpower and ambition, both if which Joel has had throughout the series. But it also represents balance between forces, much like how Joel has to balance his eagerness to win and his aggression with making friends and supporting allies in order to win, as in previous seasons where he lacked balance and was aggressive all the time, he lost.

The Chariot represents moving forward and forging new paths for yourself, such as with Joel forging his path with iron strong bonds instead of the bloody vengeance he's used in previous seasons. A new path for a new man.

When used in terms of relationship readings, The Chariot reversed means to take things slow, much like how Joel had to take things slow and not mindlessly attack people to win. Reacting instead of acting.

The Chariot represents trust and acceptance that we can't do things alone, fitting with Joel being so close with his team to consider them family. As opposed to previous seasons where he was more of a wildcard or lone wolf type

When The Chariot is reversed in normal readings it means aggression, impulsiveness, lack of control, indecision and inevitable defeat, which was Joel's experience for the series up until now. But now he has revered the card, becoming the opposite of these negative traits.

Oh also if we use The Chariot then his stupid bloody car can be on the card art.

So there you have it, Joel “Toretto” Smallishbeans is The Chariot

15 cards remain.

(To be clear I didn't mess up my math, The Fool is reserved for when Jimmy wins. That's why it's 15 left and not 16)

#life series #traffic life series #traffic life #traffic life smp #life series smp #tarot card symbolism #trafficblr #wild life smp #wild life series #joel smallishbeans #smallishbeans

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perksofbeingpoet · 4 months ago

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and how lucky is todd, how lucky to have found a home in other people's hearts.

knox comes in without knocking, two t-shirts thrown over one of his arms like a waiter in a posh restaurant, the seams soft and worn. "you said you like this colour", he smiles, sitting down on todd's bed because it's no big deal, because he's comfortable enough, "and i think we have the same size."

they're sitting over a trig assignment, the tips of their hair brushing as they lean in close over the paper. meeks is frowning, exhaustion and frustration pulling at his eyebrows. "maybe it's- it-", todd starts, but the words clump in his throat and he's not that good at maths anyway. meeks smiles, a reassuring warmth in his eyes like dawn fog in summer. "no, go on."

charlie is laughing, laughing in a very big way because that's the only sort of laughter he's capable of - clutching his sides and doubling over, blindly grabbing at a street lamp for support. "you know", he says finally, wiping his eyes, his words slurred from drunken laughter, "you're way funnier than you give yourself credit for."

cameron drags his shirt over his head, already running, and todd is trying to catch up. warm, peagreen grass tickles his feet as he races down the short stretch of hill, throwing his shirt on top of cameron's which is already crumpled up by the peer. cameron yells "first!" and sputters lake water when todd jumps in after him, laughing, wet-haired.

"c'mon, one more sip." todd shuts his eyes and shakes his head, his exasperated chuckle doing nothing to hide the heat in his cheeks. "this is silly, you don't have to do this." pitts rolls his eyes and waves the spoon like a weapon until todd nods and lets pitts feed him another sip. "if this is the only way we'll get some food into you when you're sick, i'm ready to commit. now come on, there's still half a bowl of soup left."

#I LOVE THEM OKAY #I LOVE THEM SO MUCH #also uhh i've only ever read one (1) poly!poets fic and it's still stuck in my head #dead poets december #dead poets society #dps fanfiction #dps boys #dps #dps fandom #dps headcanons #dead poets fandom #todd anderson #charlie dalton #knox overstreet #stephen meeks #gerard pitts #richard cameron #dead poets society fanfic

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goldfades · 5 months ago

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friday night lights | JOE BURROW⁹ [010]

free palestine carrd 🇵🇸 decolonize palestine site 🇵🇸 how you can help palestine it's crucial that we stand in solidarity with those who need our support. right now, the people of palestine are facing unimaginable hardship, and it's up to all of us to do what we can to help. whether it's raising awareness, donating to relief organizations, or supporting calls for justice and peace, every action counts. we can amplify their voices, shed light on their struggles, and work towards a future where every individual can live with dignity and freedom. your support can make a difference! FREE PALESTINE!

MASTERLIST

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 4.6k

⟢ ┈ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | requested -> how joe and reader met? we know they met in high school, sophomore year but id (and i’m sure everyone else😅) would love a little flashback chapter!

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | descriptions of partying, underage drinking, kinda slowburn? shy girl x football player trope, maisie being protective, nothing else!

The first time you met Joe Burrow, he wasn’t Joe Burrow, not yet. He was just a tall, lanky sophomore quarterback with an arm everyone talked about and a quietness that made him feel like a walking question mark. Athens High was small enough that everyone knew everyone—names, faces, family stories that spread like wildfire—but Joe? He wasn’t loud enough to grab the attention of half the school, not until football season started.

You were sitting on the bleachers during a pep rally, Maisie beside you, her commentary on everything from the band’s uneven tempo to the cheerleaders’ synchronized high kicks keeping you thoroughly entertained. The players were being introduced one by one, each jogging onto the gym floor to varying levels of applause. When they called Joe’s name, the cheer was louder, a steady roar that vibrated through the walls, and you found yourself craning to see what the fuss was about.

There he was. Light blond hair a little messy, a shy smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, hands tucked into the pockets of his letterman jacket. He didn’t wave or puff out his chest like the others; he just gave the crowd a small nod before retreating to the back of the lineup. Something about him—his quiet confidence, maybe—caught your attention, and you didn’t quite know why.

“You’re staring,” Maisie muttered, not looking up from the doodle she was adding to the corner of her math notebook.

“I’m not,” you whispered back, even as your gaze lingered a second too long.

That was the beginning.

It wasn’t until a few weeks later, at a biology lab you’d been forced to pair up in, that he really spoke to you. Joe wasn’t your usual seatmate, but he slid into the stool beside you with a polite nod, his long legs awkwardly folding beneath the too-short lab table. The two of you were tasked with dissecting something unreasonably gross—a frog, maybe? You couldn’t remember now. What you did remember was Joe, his steady hands cutting through the assignment with precision, and the way he chuckled softly when you accidentally dropped a scalpel.

“You’re not a fan of this, huh?” he asked, his voice low but teasing.

You wrinkled your nose. “Not all of us dream of gutting things for a living.”

“I’m not gutting anything for a living.” He smirked, a tiny flash of mischief in his otherwise calm demeanor. “I throw footballs.”

It wasn’t the smoothest line, but it was enough to make you laugh, and that laugh seemed to encourage him.

From then on, he started showing up more. A quick wave in the hallway, a quiet “Hey” as he passed you in class, and the occasional comment during shared group projects. It was nothing monumental, just small moments that began to stack, like bricks in a wall you couldn’t stop building.

“Don’t get your hopes up,” Maisie warned one afternoon as the two of you sat on the steps outside the school. “Guys like him don’t date girls like us. They go for easy cheerleaders, not girls who can barely talk during a book report.”

“I can talk during a book report,” you shot back, even though it wasn’t entirely true.

Maisie raised a brow, clearly unimpressed. “I’m just saying, keep it realistic. He’s an athlete. You’re… you.”

You knew Maisie didn't mean to be discouraging, she was always the realistic one between the two of you. You watched rom-com's, and was a hopeless romantic—and Maisie, well... she wasn't the romantic type. She meant well, she just didn't want to see her best friend get her heart shattered by a stupid (her words, not yours) blonde quarterback.

But despite her skepticism, you couldn’t stop yourself. Each time Joe said your name or offered a lopsided grin in passing, the crush rooted itself deeper. It was innocent, for now, a quiet hope you kept tucked away like a secret note in your locker.

And then one day, Joe did something that changed everything. Something so small, so simple, that it left you reeling. He stopped you in the hallway between classes, his book bag slung over one shoulder, his blue eyes holding yours for just a beat too long.

“You going to the game Friday?” he asked.

You blinked, startled. “Uh… maybe?”

“You should.” He shrugged, shifting on his feet. “It’s gonna be a good one.”

And with that, he was gone, leaving you standing there, your heart thudding in your chest like a drumline warming up before a halftime show.

The walk to Maisie’s car after school was peppered with her usual commentary about the injustices of teenage life. Something about how the cafeteria's pizza was an actual health violation, how Mr. Harper’s pop quizzes were a form of psychological torture, and how group projects should be banned by law.

You let her vent, only half-listening, your mind replaying Joe’s voice: “You should.” It wasn’t like he’d asked you on a date or anything, but it was the first time he’d gone out of his way to talk to you outside of class. The possibility of seeing him again on Friday made your chest buzz, but Maisie? Convincing her was another story entirely.

“So,” you began casually as you slid into the passenger seat, trying to find the right approach. “Are you going to the game Friday?”

Maisie turned the key in the ignition, her ancient Honda sputtering to life with a groan. She shot you a sidelong glance. “Why? Are you going?”

“Maybe,” you said, a little too quickly.

Her eyebrows rose as she backed out of the parking spot. “What’s this about? You hate football. You called it ‘organized concussion practice’ last month.”

You shrugged, fiddling with the hem of your sleeve. “I don’t hate it. And it’s not like I’m going for the game. I just thought it might be fun, you know? Something different.”

Maisie narrowed her eyes, the car bouncing slightly as it hit a pothole. “Different like sitting in the freezing cold with half the school, pretending to care about a sport we don’t understand?”

“You don’t have to pretend to care.” You grinned, nudging her arm. “You can sit there and make fun of people like you always do. It’ll be fun. Besides, you never know, you might actually enjoy it.”

She snorted. “The only thing I’d enjoy is the halftime show. And even that’s debatable.”

“Come on,” you said, dragging out the words in a way you knew would get under her skin. “We haven’t gone to a single game this year. Don’t you think it’s time to show a little school spirit?”

“I have plenty of spirit,” Maisie deadpanned. “It’s just not for sports. My spirit is reserved for things that matter, like protests and pizza Fridays.”

You groaned, leaning your head back against the seat. “Maisie, please. Just this once?”

She glanced at you, her expression softening ever so slightly. Maisie might’ve been a certified cynic, but she wasn’t immune to the rare moments when you genuinely wanted something.

“Why are you so set on this?” she asked finally, her tone skeptical but not dismissive.

You hesitated, the truth bubbling at the edge of your lips. “I don’t know. It just… feels like something I should do.”

Her eyes flicked to you briefly before returning to the road. She let out a dramatic sigh, her grip tightening on the steering wheel. “Fine. I’ll go. But if anyone spills nacho cheese on me or tries to talk to me about touchdowns, I’m leaving.”

“Deal.” You grinned, relief flooding through you.

Maisie muttered something under her breath about friendship being a burden, but there was a glint of amusement in her eyes. You knew she’d show up in her usual no-nonsense way, probably armed with a thermos of hot cocoa and a thousand sarcastic comments, but she’d be there.

And as the two of you drove home, her complaining fading into the background, you couldn’t help but feel a spark of hope. Maybe, just maybe, Friday night would be more than you’d ever expected.

┈┈┈

The bleachers were packed, the air alive with the buzz of small-town Friday night energy. The faint smell of concession stand hot dogs wafted through the air, mingling with the sharp chill of early autumn. You tugged your jacket tighter around you, glancing at Maisie, who sat next to you with an impressive scowl already forming on her face.

“See?” she said, motioning to the field where the players were warming up. “Organized concussion practice. Case in point.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled despite yourself. “You promised you’d keep the snark to a minimum.”

Maisie held up her hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. I’ll behave. But if someone tries to start a chant near me, all bets are off.”

The two of you settled in with a group from your biology class—a group you hadn’t hung out with outside of school before but were surprisingly easy to be around. They handed out popcorn, passed around a bag of Sour Patch Kids, and made corny jokes that Maisie laughed at more than she’d ever admit. Even you found yourself relaxing, letting the game wash over you as something fun instead of a chore.

“Okay, what’s happening now?” Maisie leaned over to whisper as the players jogged off the field and the marching band took their place.

“Halftime,” you explained. “This is the part you said you might like.”

She raised an eyebrow, watching as the band launched into a spirited rendition of some pop song from two summers ago. “Well,” she said slowly, “it’s not bad. Kind of catchy.”

You grinned, nudging her. “See? Told you this wouldn’t be so terrible.”

“Don’t get cocky,” she warned, but there was no venom in her tone.

By the fourth quarter, even Maisie seemed invested, clapping lightly when your school scored and muttering curses when the refs made questionable calls. You didn’t know what surprised you more—that Maisie was actually having fun or that you were, too.

But as the clock ticked down to the final minutes, you couldn’t help but scan the sidelines, searching for the number nine jersey. Joe had been on fire all night, his throws sharp and precise, his presence commanding even from this far up in the stands.

When the buzzer sounded, signaling your school’s victory, the bleachers erupted in cheers. Maisie rolled her eyes at the whooping and hollering but clapped politely.

“Alright,” she said, standing and stretching. “You got your football experience. Can we go now?”

“Just a sec,” you said, your gaze locked on the field.

You spotted Joe near the fifty-yard line, surrounded by teammates and fans congratulating him. But it wasn’t the crowd that caught your attention—it was her.

A girl with shiny brown hair and a bright smile leaned in close to Joe, saying something you couldn’t hear from this distance. She had that effortless kind of prettiness that made you feel frumpy in comparison, and the familiarity with which she touched his arm sent a pang through your chest.

Then he hugged her.

It wasn’t a quick, congratulatory pat on the back, either. It was one of those hugs that lingered, the kind that looked like it belonged in a rom-com montage.

Your stomach dropped.

“Hey,” Maisie said, nudging you. “You good?”

You forced yourself to nod, blinking rapidly against the sting in your eyes. “Yeah, I’m fine. Let’s go.”

Maisie frowned, clearly unconvinced, but she didn’t push. As the two of you made your way down the bleachers, you couldn’t help but glance back one last time. Joe was still standing there, his arm slung casually around the girl’s shoulders, his grin easy and warm.

It shouldn’t hurt this much, you told yourself. He wasn’t yours. Not really.

But as Maisie led you out of the stadium, chattering about the game, you couldn’t shake the ache in your chest—the kind of ache that only comes when you realize you care about someone more than they care about you.

The girls from your biology class caught up with you just as you and Maisie were about to leave the parking lot. They were breathless and giggling, their faces flushed from the cool night air and the excitement of the game.

“Hey!” one of them called, waving you down. “There’s a party at Megan’s house—like, right now. You guys should totally come!”

Maisie raised an eyebrow, already halfway in the car. “A party? At Megan’s? Isn’t she the one who turned the chem lab into a glitter bomb last year?”

“That was iconic,” one of the girls said with a laugh. “Come on, it’ll be fun! You can’t just go home after a game like that.”

You hesitated. Parties weren’t really your thing, and you could already see Maisie gearing up for a sarcastic excuse to say no. But something in you—the part still stinging from seeing Joe hug that girl—felt like rebelling. Like shaking off the evening’s disappointment and pretending, for a little while, that you weren’t someone who usually played it safe.

“Why the hell not?” you said, surprising even yourself.

Maisie froze, her hand on the car door. “Excuse me, what?”

“Come on,” you said, grabbing her arm. “Let’s go. It’ll be fun!”

Maisie groaned but let you pull her along. “You owe me for this.”

Megan’s house was already packed by the time you arrived, music thumping loud enough to shake the front porch. The air was thick with the smell of beer and cheap perfume, and the living room was crowded with people laughing, dancing, and shouting over each other.

It started with a drink—just one, you told yourself, to loosen up. But one turned into two, and before you knew it, the edges of the world felt softer, the music louder, and your inhibitions practically nonexistent.

You danced in the middle of the living room, your arms thrown around the girls from your biology class, laughing so hard your sides ached. Maisie watched from the couch, shaking her head but smiling faintly at your antics.

The party had only grown wilder as the night went on. The living room was now packed shoulder-to-shoulder, the music loud enough to make the floor vibrate under your feet. You were too buzzed to care about the sweaty press of bodies or the occasional elbow that jabbed you in the side.

Maisie was still parked in her corner, sipping from a plastic cup and looking suspiciously at anyone who came too close. Your biology classmates were dancing near the kitchen, laughing so loudly you could hear them over the music.

And then you saw him.

Joe stood by the far wall with a cluster of his teammates, their broad shoulders and easy grins making them look like they owned the room. He was in the middle of laughing at something, his head tilted back and eyes crinkled in that stupidly charming way. You should’ve looked away, walked the other direction, anything.

But you didn’t.

You blinked hard, trying to ignore the ache in your chest, and did the only thing that made sense in the moment—you grabbed another shot from a passing tray and threw it back. The burn of the alcohol made you wince, but it dulled the edges of your hurt just enough to push you back into the safety of your friends.

Hours later, the party had become a blur. Your legs felt like jelly, the walls swayed slightly every time you moved, and even Maisie’s sharp voice sounded muffled through the haze.

“I think I need the bathroom,” you slurred to no one in particular, pushing off the couch and wobbling on unsteady feet.

“You need to sit down,” Maisie snapped, grabbing your arm.

“I’ll be fine,” you mumbled, waving her off. “Just… the bathroom.”

You stumbled into the hallway, squinting at the doors as if one of them might magically open and guide you inside. Instead, you bumped into something solid—someone, actually.

“Oh, crap, sorry—”

It was Joe.

His hands caught your arms gently to steady you, his expression shifting from surprise to concern the moment he got a good look at you. “Y/N? Are you okay?”

You yanked your arm away, wobbling but determined to keep your balance. “I’m fine,” you muttered, glaring up at him.

Joe frowned, his eyebrows knitting together. “You don’t look fine. What’s going on?”

“Nothing that’s any of your business,” you snapped, stumbling past him.

But instead of letting you go, he followed, his concern overriding any annoyance he might have felt at your tone. “You’re drunk,” he said plainly, his voice quieter now. “Where are you trying to go?”

You paused, the fog in your brain making it hard to come up with a snappy reply. “Bathroom,” you finally said, crossing your arms.

Joe nodded, stepping ahead of you. “Come on, I’ll help you find it.”

You wanted to argue, to push him away and tell him you didn’t need his help, but your legs were too wobbly, and the spinning hallway wasn’t exactly making things easier.

He walked a few paces ahead, glancing back every so often to make sure you were following. When you stumbled again, he sighed and offered his arm.

“Just take it,” he said, not unkindly. “You’re gonna fall on your face if you don’t.”

Grudgingly, you grabbed his arm, leaning into his steady warmth as he led you toward the bathroom door.

“Why are you being nice to me?” you muttered, refusing to meet his eyes.

Joe paused, his hand hovering over the doorknob. “Because I care about you, even when you’re mad at me for no reason,” he said softly.

You didn’t have a reply for that. Instead, you pushed the door open and stumbled inside, closing it behind you before he could say anything else.

And for the first time all night, you let yourself breathe.

The bathroom was a blur of fluorescent light and tiled walls, and you were grateful for the brief reprieve from the chaotic party outside. Splashing cold water on your face helped a little, but the dizziness still lingered, and standing upright felt like a Herculean effort.

You took a deep breath, steadied yourself, and opened the door, stepping out with as much dignity as you could muster—which, unfortunately, wasn’t much. Your foot caught the edge of the rug, and before you could even process what was happening, gravity had its way.

But you didn’t hit the ground.

Joe caught you, his hands firm on your arms as he steadied you. “Whoa, easy,” he said, his voice low and calm. “I told you you’d fall if you weren’t careful.”

You glared up at him, more out of stubbornness than actual anger. “I’m fine.”

“Sure you are.” He didn’t let go right away, his eyes scanning your face like he was checking for signs of serious damage. “Come on, you need to drink some water.”

“I don’t need anything,” you shot back, trying to pull away.

Joe’s grip loosened, but he didn’t back down. Instead, he reached for a nearby table and grabbed a half-full bottle of water, holding it out to you. “Just drink it. Please.”

You crossed your arms, teetering slightly on your feet. “I said I’m fine.”

“Y/N.” His tone was firmer now, his brow furrowing in that way that made him look unfairly mature for a high schooler. “You’re going to feel worse if you don’t drink this.”

You stared at the bottle like it was some kind of enemy, but the dizziness was getting worse, and deep down, you knew he was right. With a heavy sigh, you snatched it from his hand.

“Fine,” you muttered, unscrewing the cap and taking a sip.

“More than that,” Joe said, crossing his arms as he watched you.

You gave him an exaggerated eye roll but obliged, taking a few bigger gulps. “Happy now?”

“Ecstatic,” he replied dryly, though there was a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

Before you could respond with another sarcastic remark, a familiar voice cut through the noise.

“There you are!” Maisie appeared, her expression a mix of relief and exasperation. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

“I’m fine,” you said, though the wobble in your step betrayed you as you tried to stand straighter.

Maisie’s eyes narrowed as she glanced between you and Joe. “We’re leaving. Now.”

Joe nodded, stepping back slightly but keeping his gaze on you. “Good. She needs to get home.”

“Don’t tell me what I already know, Burrow,” Maisie snapped, looping her arm around yours to steady you.

Joe ignored her jab, his focus still on you. “Get home safe, okay?”

You hesitated, the mix of hurt and exhaustion making your chest tighten. But something in his tone softened the edges of your frustration.

“Thanks,” you murmured quietly, avoiding his eyes.

Maisie tugged you toward the door, muttering something under her breath about quarterbacks and their egos. And as the two of you stepped out into the cool night air, you couldn’t help but glance back once, catching Joe’s silhouette in the doorway before Maisie pulled you forward, back into the safety of the night.

The weekend had come and gone, leaving behind a swirl of emotions and half-remembered moments that made your stomach twist uncomfortably. Every time you thought about the party—about Joe, specifically—you felt a warm flush crawl up your neck, a mixture of embarrassment and residual irritation.

By Monday morning, you were determined to put it behind you. High school wasn’t exactly forgiving, and you didn’t need rumors or awkwardness to complicate things further. But as you moved through the crowded hallways, your resolve was tested.

“Hey, Y/N.”

That voice was unmistakable, and it froze you in your tracks. You turned to see Joe, casually leaning against a locker like he hadn’t caused your entire weekend to spiral into emotional chaos.

“What do you want?” you asked, crossing your arms defensively.

Joe blinked, surprised by the sharpness in your tone, but he quickly recovered, his calm demeanor intact. “Nothing. Just saying hi. How was your weekend?”

You stared at him, incredulous. “Are you serious?”

He tilted his head slightly, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “Yeah… why wouldn’t I be?”

It was the last straw. The memory of him laughing with that girl at the game—hugging her—flashed in your mind, and before you could stop yourself, the words spilled out.

“Why don’t you ask your girl instead?” Your voice was biting, louder than you intended, and a couple of students walking by glanced over curiously.

Joe straightened, his brows knitting together in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“The girl from the game,” you snapped. “You were all over her. Maybe you should talk to her instead of bothering me.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, the hallway noise fading into the background. Then, to your utter disbelief, his lips curved into a slight smirk.

“That?” he said, his tone dripping with casual dismissal. “That wasn’t anything. My teammates set it up, said she wanted to meet me. It was awkward as hell.”

You blinked, thrown off balance. “Oh.”

His smirk deepened, and his eyebrows raised ever so slightly. “You got all worked up over that, huh?”

“I wasn’t—” you started, but the words died on your tongue. You couldn’t think of a single thing to say, and your silence only seemed to amuse him more.

Joe leaned in just a fraction, his voice low and teasing. “You’re kind of cute when you’re jealous, you know that?”

“I wasn’t jealous,” you muttered, your face heating up.

“Sure you weren’t.”

Before you could respond, the bell rang, signaling the start of class. Joe didn’t wait for you to gather your dignity; he just fell into step beside you as if nothing had happened, launching into some story about his weekend. You were too flustered to do anything but follow along, grateful he wasn’t pressing the issue further.

By the time you slid into your seat in class, the embarrassment had settled into a dull thrum, manageable but still present. Unfortunately for you, Joe wasn’t done.

“Hey,” he said, leaning over slightly so only you could hear. “Do you have a crush on me or something?”

The question was delivered so casually, with that same damn smirk, that it took a second to register. Your head snapped toward him, your eyes wide. “What? No!”

“Uh-huh,” he said, clearly unconvinced. “You’re blushing.”

“I am not,” you hissed, your face feeling hotter by the second.

Joe chuckled, leaning back in his chair with an air of victory. “Whatever you say.”

You glared at him, but he just winked, turning his attention to the teacher as if he hadn’t just completely unraveled you.

For the rest of the class, you couldn’t focus on a single thing except the stupid, smug boy sitting next to you. And, much to your chagrin, the smallest part of you couldn’t help but feel a little flattered.

After that Monday, things shifted. Slowly, but surely, you and Joe began spending more time together. It started with small things—casual conversations during passing periods, shared laughs in class, and stolen moments after school. Joe had this way of sneaking past your walls, of making you laugh when you wanted to roll your eyes. And you couldn’t deny how easy it was to be around him, even when Maisie shot you knowing looks, muttering, "Don’t get your hopes up.”

By the end of the football season, it felt natural to meet him after games, even if it was just to say a quick hello or give him a high-five. But one game—toward the end of the season—was different. You could tell something was on his mind, the way he fidgeted and avoided eye contact as you approached him on the field, your jacket pulled tight against the November chill.

“Hey,” he said, his voice unusually soft.

“Hey, good game,” you replied, smiling up at him.

“Thanks.” He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck in that way he did when he was nervous. “Uh… I wanted to ask you something.”

Your heart did a little flip. “What is it?”

He took a deep breath, his eyes locking with yours. “Would you… uh, do you want to be my girlfriend?”

You blinked, stunned for a moment, before a wide smile spread across your face. “Yes.”

Joe’s face lit up like you’d just handed him a championship trophy. Without warning, he grabbed you by the waist and lifted you off the ground, spinning you in a circle as you laughed, your hands gripping his shoulders for balance. When he set you down, he was grinning like an idiot.

“Really?” he asked, still holding onto you.

“Really,” you said, laughing at his excitement.

From that moment on, you were inseparable.

High school with Joe was a whirlwind of late-night drives, studying together at the library (where he mostly distracted you), and cheering him on from the stands. He became your biggest supporter, whether it was at your own events or just encouraging you through tough classes.

Maisie, of course, remained skeptical of Joe for a while, but even she had to admit he wasn’t the worst when he went out of his way to make sure you were happy.

High school was full of memories like that—Joe getting overly competitive during group projects, Maisie rolling her eyes at his antics, and the three of you becoming an unlikely trio. But the sweetest moments were the quiet ones: Joe waiting by your locker with his easy smile, the two of you walking hand-in-hand through the halls, and the way he always made you feel like you were the most important person in the world.

By the time graduation rolled around, you couldn’t imagine your life without him. And from the way he looked at you as you crossed the stage, you knew he felt the same.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

#joe burrow bengals #joe burrow x reader #cincinnati bengals #joeyb #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow smut #joe burrow imagine #nfl fic #nfl football #nfl imagine

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foreingersgod · 1 year ago

Text

You’re Everything . CC

pairing: caitlin clark x reader

synopsis: caitlin clark is the best basketball player in the media right now and you can’t help but feel like you’re no good for her.

y’all i don’t even write (so sorry if this is actual ass), but the cc content on here is almost non existent lol. so i hope you all enjoy :)

my masterlist: here

college is extremely hard, and unfortunately for you, it has pushed you to your breaking point.

unlike your girlfriend, caitlin, you’ve never been the athletic type. typically confined to your textbooks and essays rather than on the court or out in the field. Your studies were incredibly important to you and you were GOOD at school, but by no means were you as talented as the caitlin clark.

you’re so proud of caitlin, truly. she’s come some far in her athletic career. she deserves all the praise and all of the awards and all of the support. but regardless all the praise and admiration you showered her with, you couldn’t help but feel like you weren’t enough.

books littered the covers of your bed, chemistry worksheets and math textbooks seemed to stack up to the ceiling. your fingers dug into your scalp, lightly pulling at your hair. you had midterms coming up and you were starting to panic. last semester, midterms and finals flew by like a breeze and you were able to hold a very high gpa, but unfortunately this semester you’re crashing and burning. you were falling behind on assignments, forgetting due dates, and failing exams no matter how hard you studied. caitlin constantly reassured you that you were doing amazing regardless of how different your grades were last semester, but it’s really easy to say that when you’re passing every class and making history in basketball at the same time.

tears threatened to spill from your eyes and it felt like you were going to faint from all this stress. as you were sloppily scribbling down equations and flipping through flash cards, you failed to hear constant knocking and the lock of your front door turning. heavy footsteps echoed up to your room and you knew all too well who they belonged to. trying to get everything in order before your girlfriend reached your room, you quickly wiped your tears away and fixed your hair.

“YN i’ve been texting you like crazy, did you not-” she began. “hey hey hey what’s the matter, baby”

caitlin immediately seemed panicked at your distressed state, rushing over to you and sitting next to you on the bed. her arms instinctively wrapped around you as you nuzzled your head into her neck to hide your tears.

“it’s nothing, i swear, im just stressed for my chem exam” you lied. “you caught me at a bad time i guess” you attempted laugh it off, pulling a fake smile into the side of neck.

she pulled away from you, hands moving from you shoulders to your face, forcing you to look at her. she seemed to be looking at you for hours, studying the pain on your face and the dullness of your eyes.

“baby this is obviously not ‘nothing’…i’ve never seen you like this. over anything”

it didn’t take long for you to start tearing up again. “caitlin, i…i really don’t know…”

you can’t even get the words out. it felt like your sentences were building up in your throat and suffocating you. a small whimper managed to work its way out of you before you broke down in tears. again, caitlin was all over you, confused and hurt because she doesn’t know how to help you.

“YN please, please talk to me i need to know what’s going on, you’re scaring me” she said, pushing loose stands of hair out of your face and wiping your tears with the sleeve of her sweatshirt.

“i just-” you began, hiccuping from your sobs “i just feel like a failure!”

and that started it all. before caitlin could even protest such as absurd statement, all of your feelings and insecurities came spewing out.

“caitlin i’m extremely proud of you, please know that. i’ve never been so astonished by someone’s talent than yours” you sounded hysteric, you were sure. “but i cant help but feel like i’m a failure compared to all the amazing things you’ve done. you’ve broken records and changed people’s lives…you’ve won the awards and the adoring fans…and again, i can’t even begin with how proud of you i am…but looking back at all the things i’ve done…i’m nothing. for fucks sake i can’t even pass a god damn chemistry exam or a math quiz without losing my fucking mind. i don’t leave the house cause i’m too busy studying and i don’t have time to hang out with our friends or hang out with your team. i can barely pass my classes this semester and i just feel like such a burnout.”

it felt like it all came out in seconds. “you deserve so much better than someone like me. i’m nothing”

the silence that filled the room was heavy and haunting. you worked up enough courage to finally look at caitlin, scared that she’d realized you were right and confirm your worst fears. but to your surprise, she was crying too.

“you’re everything” her voice cracked, barely managing to get the words out. “baby you’re everything.”

“what?”

“is this how you’ve really felt? like you’re nothing?” you avoided her gaze “YN i couldn’t even begin to tell you how amazed i am by you. forget me, look at you!”

“cait.”

“no, i’m serious. you work your ass off every single day. you study you do your homework you go to work, and you still find the time to shower me with so much love and attention. you pour your soul into everything that you do and of course it’s hard, but please do not sit here and tell me i deserve more than you because i need you more than i need air, YN”

it felt like you had no more tears to shed, overwhelmed with feelings. so instead you took your girlfriends face into your hands, forcing your lips upon hers. you could feel her hands meander to the back of your head, toying with the hairs at the nape of your neck as she pulled you into a much deeper kiss.

eventually pulling away for air, you rest your forehead against hers while she whispers gentle “i love you”s . you finally feel relieved for the first time in a while.

#caitlin clark x reader #caitlin clark #wcbb #women’s basketball #iowa wbb

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celli-ohs · 7 months ago

Text

and scene!

A seven-part written series taking place at EN High School, featuring Enhypen, with supporting roles from Tomorrow x Together, &Team, BoyNextDoor, Le Sserafim, and Illit. Loosely based off of Enhypen's official series En-Drama.

Author's Note: this is going to be a rollercoaster folks! I wanted to basically make a crack/fluff version of En-Drama. I thought the stereotypes they put the members in were cute and fitting of them, but was like "what if I made them all losers lol" and that's how this series was born! disclaimer, the plots for my works are not the same as En-Drama, this is all just for shits and giggles! btw, everything is connected, so stay tuned for each member! lmk who you're most excited to read!!

Status: ongoing

ATTENTION: reply/comment for taglist

and scene! masterlist

I Can't, I Have Rehearsal

socially awkward!park sunghoon x reader; high school au; crack, comedy, fluff

What happens when you get seated right next to the most handsome boy in your entire grade? Well you thought it'd be a great excuse to get to know him better, but the guy won't even talk to you! After a mishap in the science lab, you come to find out that Park Sunghoon, the cold-hearted prince of EN High, isn't in fact rude, he's just afraid of women.

Show Must Go On

secret softie!park jongseong x reader; high school au; crack, comedy, fluff

When you told the waitress to give your compliments to the chef, you didn't expect the chef to come out and thank you personally, and you really didn't expect the chef to be your classmate Park Jongseong. Realizing how bad this could be, he has you keep it a secret. That shouldn't be too hard for you to do he thinks, but you're full of surprises- and slip ups.

Lights, Curtains, Action!

popular!sim jaeyun x reader; high school au; crack, comedy, fluff

You weren't a very sociable person. Sure you had some friends, but you preferred to stay home on your days off. Your family has other plans though, and you're forced to explore the great outdoors during summer break. On your adventure, you never thought you'd find rowdy Sim Jaeyun, otherwise known as Jake, sitting patiently at the docks waiting for a single fish to bite his line. You also never thought he'd reel in your missing shoe before an actual fish.

All the World's a Stage

younger!kim sunoo x reader; high school au; crack, comedy, fluff

You've known Kim Sunoo since middle school when your friend Jaeyun introduced him to you as his 'little brother'. He was a sweet and funny boy. But over the summer, something changed with Sunoo and suddenly you feel your heart skipping a beat every time he looks your way. You'd think he's finally grown up and matured, but there he goes again, quoting some random romcom and you're reminded he'll never see you the way you do him. Or does he?

Tough Act to Follow

loser!lee heeseung x reader; high school au; crack, comedy, fluff

This had to be a mistake. It couldn't be true, how could you end up being seatmates with the biggest loser in school, Lee Heeseung?! You can feel your social status plummeting with every word he speaks to you. But on a late walk from the convenience store, you witness something that changes your view of Heeseung drastically. And maybe he's right, the Sonic the Hedgehog movie is actually kinda good.

Break a Leg

tease!nishimura riki x reader; high school au; crack, comedy, fluff

Nishimura Riki was the bane of your existence. You can't tell where your hatred for him begins and ends. Every day is a constant battle of teasing between the two of you, and you have had it. One day after an accident, Riki shows his true colors and now his insults start to make your heart race, and it's not because you're angry. Surely you've caught something, right?

No Business Like Show Business

student body president!yang jungwon x reader; high school au; crack, comedy, fluff

When you flunked that math test, you didn't think it was that serious- until your teacher assigned you a tutor: Yang Jungwon, student body president. Honestly, you didn't really know the guy, he seemed like the type to be strict and responsible. Except he isn't, Jungwon is just some guy. You'd argue he's even worse at math than you. His friends thought it'd be funny to elect him as president when the poor boy fell asleep during class. So now you're wondering if you should get a tutor for both of you.

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tammyu-2 · 25 days ago

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tmnt 2012! donnie, mikey and raph (seperately) x gn! reader headcanons pretty pls! the reader is super smart which led them to skip a couple grades and is in college (still the turtles' ages tho) and is in a band where they play electric guitar (and secretly write songs about their boyfriend)!! 🎀

This sounds very cute!!

2012 TMNT DONNIE, MIKEY, AND RAPH WITH A SMART BAND GEEK S/O

Swearing, I wrote this half asleep, quick drabble,not proofread read, Usage of They/them pronouns, half rushed.

We are clocking in and we are locking in

DONNIE

You were busy studying in your dorm when you decided to go for a 3am coffee run at the near by Cafe that was next to Campus. It would make sure you finished your assignment with the little power you were working on. So when you walked over to the cafe you saw it was closed due to maintenance with made you groan.

On your way back to your dorm you can't wind of someone staring at you. You reached for your pepper spray in your bag to only realize you had forgotten it on your desk. So when you were caught helpless in an alleyway with a clearly drunk man threatening you, you had been trying to calculate the perfect way out. However your tain of though was cut short by a humanoid turtle swooping in and kicking his ass.

Eventually you and Donnie got quite acquainted with as friends (although Donnie did have a massive crush on you). He would on and on about the smart chick he met that was studying in a real collage that he could only dream of doing. Donnie knew you were smart but not exactly better than Donnie smart.

"I can't seem to figure out what's wrong with my formula! The equation looks alright but the answer is all wrong and is making my gadget bug!"

"I can help..?"

"Oh no. I don't think this level of...engineering is something you'd um...fully understand."

This boy did not- oh my days he did.

"Let me look at your formula anyway."

You said looking at the whiteboard infront of his and examining the equation. Before taking his marker and correcting it.

"You see here you forgot to divide with the 0.42 because in this side equation you square rooted it to 2 but didn't put it under the 5 that you left alone. So that should be correct"

I don't do math so apologies if this makes no sense

Donnie boy was speechless and he tried to stutter out a sentence but kept failing leading him to give up on words completely. He fixed his machine using the method you corrected and you actually fixed it! He turned to you with flustered expression. No one has ever actually understood him but you did in more ways than one. Including when it came to having smarts.

Ever since then you guys have little study dates where you show him human studies that he oh-so wants to be apart of. And in return he gives you free range of his lab whenever you need to make something. He trusts you enough because he knows now your far from being stupid enough to mess it up.

He started respecting you much more and that was the thing that pushed him to confess to you and you two were a genius power couple. You guys were finishing each other's sandwiches (or sentences or whatever)

"WOW your so cool. What else have you been hiding from me? I'm sure there's nothing h-hotter- or um c-cuter than you being as smart as me."

"So about that..."

You explain that you recently started a band and it was making it to bigger and bigger gigs than before.

"YOUR IN A BAND!? MY GOSH HOW COOLER CAN YOU GET!?"

"I play the electric guitar...?"

Donnie.exe has stopped working.

When you get more comfortable with each other you sometimes have dates where you two are alone cuddling up on Donnie's bed as you strum your guitar testing the notes out lazily. You two being full of pizza and slowly drifting off in each other's side....with an electric guitar inbetween.

Whenever you have a concert he always comes to watch you in the shadows or disguised just to support you by showing interest in your growing career. Cause he really adored you.

MIKEY

He had met you at a abandoned skate park. You two immediately hit it off and He was ofcourse extremely clingy to you. He bragged on and on about you to the ninjas. You were a cute duo

"Is butter a carb?"

"Yes it technically is."

"Whats a carb?"

"So basically a carb stands for carbohydrates and what it is is a-"

You always explain things to him that he never remembers. It didn't matter you liked explaing stuff to him and he liked the way your energy spiked whenever explaining something.

He doesn't really think about you being smart that much when in comes to your relationship. Cause he litrally has a brother that is as smart but more rude and sassy about it.

On the day Mikey confessed to you, you were about to go out and get snacks for a movie night for your new boyfriend. However you phone rand interrupting your planning of your date. It had been one of your band members- wait shit! You were late to practice.

"I'm so sorry! But I'm running late for band practice.."

"YOUR IN A BAND-"

The next time you two met up you explained your band to him and Mikey had stars in his eyes. He kept on loudly saying how sick it is to be in a band! Not to mention a guitar. A ELECTRIC GUITAR

If you allow him to hold you guitar he will be jumping up and down excitedly. Like man is not sitting still at all! If you even teach him how to play he is basically on cloud nine. Oh my gosh how did he meet you!?

He takes every chance he gets to brag about you to not only the ninjas but also the bad guys. Like he's over here swooning of the thought of you while a kraang is being beat up by him.

"UGH I miss my s/o they are so amazing. Do you know they guitar AAANDDD THE GUITAR! Which is extremely dope in my opinion. "

He sighs softly, kicking another kraang that was charging at them. Knocking it over.

"The one that is known as s/o is not in the database that the ones known as kraang had mad."

"*sigh* they also had a name..."

"MIKEY OH MY GOD HELP US!?"

RAPH

He met you only after he had a mental break down and needed to release his tension by beating up things. Preferably bad guys but Raph wasn't picky. So when he found you in an allway he took the chance not caring about his looks.

You were a bit freaked out when a giant turtle appeared out of no where and started flirting with you. And after you got to know him and his brothers you two started dating.

I won't lie I think he likes that your smart and everything but if go full on Donnie mode and explain stuff to him as if he didn't know how to walk on his own two feet– then he will be pissed at you. He is the type to roll his eyes and look away bit the minute you stop rambling he will ask you why you stopped.

So now the elctric guitar situation. The one day you were watching Raph train you got sent a picture from your drummer of your band. They had gone away for the weekend and was returning him. You smiled at you phone and told Raph wich made him pause.

"YOU PLAY THE ELECTRIC GUITAR!?"

"Yes I do!"

"...holy shit your so hot.."

He wants to be serenaded but her will never tell you that. He knows about the songs you wrote for him because he found on of them when he visited you at your dorm. He thought it was cute and left it alone in hopes that you would sing it to him one day.

But I swear if any found out about his mushyness, especially you, then his reputation with be damaged for the rest of his life and he will have to runaway and change his name.

I HOPE YOU ENJOYED ITTTTTTT

I will get t you request tomorrow I am planning on posting three things tomorrow!!

But yeah hope you enjoyed- I'm falling asleep as I'm typing this so sorry for the spelling mistakes.

~Tammy<3

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