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purifiedclitoris69 · 1 year ago

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Spiders Dance

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Supersoldier!Reader

HIII!! super rough and unedited but I wanted to get it out. I am new to writing smut so bare with me lol. I've had this in my drafts for a min so figured I get it out! Hope you enjoy ;)

Warnings: Smut, Bottom!Nat, Top!Reader, Violence, IDK JUST PLEASE MDI

Summary: Natasha was a flirt, it was easy and entertaining, but she took a keen interest in flirting with you; Toying with you on a mission however, may not have been the best idea, or was it?

"Morning soldier," Nat greeted, causing you to blush immediately as you finished rinsing your fruits.

"Hey, Nat, want any fruit," you offered. The girl made you extremely flustered when it came to her comments, but besides that you had real friendship with the her

"No, thank you, but you could hand me a bowl," doing as she said you opened the cabinet above you handing Nat her request, "Thanks," she said taking the bowl letting your fingers touch and running her other hand across your broad shoulders as she passed you.

You flushed quickly, turning around clumsily your elbow hit the cabinet you had left open and your bowl of fruit drop straight to the floor.

Those in the kitchen laughed at the regular interaction as Wilson mumbled out a teasing, "nice one, y/l/n," as you rubbed the back of your neck and stared at the spilled fruit and empty Tupperware on the floor.

"yeah, yeah whatever," you grumbled out picking up your fruit as Wanda helped you giving you a pity smile and Nat smirked amused in the corner.

"You ever gonna give the girl a break," Clint asked walking up beside Nat as the two watched you wash your fruit again and get another bowl leaving the kitchen.

"Absolutely not," Nat said making her bowl of oatmeal, "the day's just begun, and we have training soon."

You had headed back to your room to save yourself any more embarrassment. You didn't mind the flirting by Nat, it boosted your ego and you were head over heals for the woman. She was perfect in your eyes, which was terrifying. She was brave, very skilled in her job, very stubborn, a little pridefull, but she was genuinely kind, understanding, and absolutely stunning. That's why she had so much power over you. You did everything she asked of you and practically dropped to your knees whenever she batted her eyelashes; everyone knew it.

You have yet to figure out her true intentions with her comments, but you knew they were too detailed and persistent for it not to mean anything. Whether it was just lust or whether she became the love of your life, it didn't matter to you yet, you just wanted her… and maybe a little payback for all the times she's embarrassed you. You spent a little time in your room finishing up mission reports but inevitably headed down to the main gym early. It was team training today which means more rosy cheeks and school girl butterflies are coming your way. You decided it’d be safe to work up a little sweat so you could at least attempt to excuse the blush on your face.

“Hey,” Steve greeted as he approached the treadmill you were stretching next to, “you beat me, here."

“don’t be shocked rogers, I am suppose to be the better model,” you teased

“i think people prefer the original,” he returned, as he began his stretches as well.

The two of you ended up running for about 45 minutes; you reaching 33 miles, Steve 31.

“people can prefer you more, but numbers don’t lie,” you spoke as the two of you walked over to the waters with a light sweat.

Steve was ready to reply when the gym doors opened with Wilson, Bucky, and the Maximoff’s entering and greeting you.

You announced to all of them how you beat Steve and began a discussion about who’s the best super soldier as Nat and Clint entered.

Natasha’s eyes landed on you immediately and that glowing sheen of sweat. Nat practically went feral whenever she caught you training or even in the field, basically anytime your muscles were pumped and you were showing off your strength, which is why she loveddd training with you.

As the team did their separate warm-ups, they eventually made it to the big mat to run scenarios on Vision, who made a reasonable subject as he was made of the strongest metal on Earth. Each of them took their turns and contributing pointers.

“Hey soldier,” Nat greeted joining your side and looking up at you.

“Tasha,” you smiled warmly, “no distractions this session please,” you breathed jokingly

“what me? you do your own share of distracting,” she spoke alluringly.

You raised you eyebrows in question

she smirked touching your bicep lightly as you looked down at your tight black compression tee, “your training shirts don’t leave much to imagine.” Your jaw clenched hard enough to shatter your teeth as your face lit up once more leaving you unable to respond besides a small laugh, “don’t worry soldier,” she stood on her tippy toes as you leaned your ear towards her and she whispered, “I really don’t mind.”

“y/l/n,” Sam shouted, “why don’t you and Steve spar so we can decide who’s really the better model."

You forced a smile still caught up in what Nat said, “winner goes against Buck,” you proposed as Steve and Bucky immediately engaged in banter. You looked back to Nat who was already walking away with that dumb sway in her hips.

“Ahem,” Steve cleared his throat waiting in the middle.

“Let the soldier gawk for a min,” Bucky laughed as everyone was already giggling.

Walking to the middle of the mat your jaw clenched with the tension Nat at fueled, “Ready, kid,” Steve smiled extending his hand, you shook off your thoughts and accepted his hand.

You began with light jabs and blocks, both of them moving with an easy grace. Steve feinted to the left, then quickly punched you right in the face falling away from the punch as you gave a small laugh.

You responded with a quick, kick aimed at Steve's shin, eyes sparkling as you got back up quickly and made brief eye contact with Nat going straight back in for another punch; Steve dodged it impressively giving your hair a playful ruffle, receiving a feigned glare. You then get caught off guard once more by the red head over Steve’s shoulder this time getting tooo lost in her and allowing Steve to attempt a mock take down, you struggled briefly but slipped out of it twisting and landing an instinctual sharp kick to his ribs.

Steve dropped to his knees immediately and held a hand up clutching his rib as he gasped for air, his own being completely knocked out of him. he declared a dramatic surrender, “I concede,” he choked, “tad too hard for training kid.”

“shit, sorry,” you breathed sliding down to help him stand.

“all good just was not prepared for all that air to get knocked out,” he breathed out a laugh.

You and Sam let out a laugh as you both went to help him up.

"Yeah, if we're gonna spar can we get Romanoff to leave the room," Bucky joked receiving a smack from Wanda beside him.

"Shut it, Barnes," you said rolling your eyes, "you can just say you're scared." The team laughed at this but deep down you were a little sick of it. You could've genuinely hurt Steve.

The rest of training went pretty smoothly, you stayed as far away as you could from Nat and decided on sparring with Vision for safety.

On the way back to your room your mind was only on her. You spent the rest of the night thinking about her. You craved her in so many ways and you've never experienced the attention of such a beautiful woman, whether it was genuine or not it made you weak; weak in many ways that could lead to dangerous outcomes.

A knock pulled you out of your thoughts, you were sat on your bed freshly out the shower, in only a sports bra and shorts.

"Yeah, just a minute!"

"Hey, y/n, it's Steve," he announced from the other side of the door, "I've got a mission for you, I need you in conference room 6 for a breifing."

"Got it!" you answered opening the door dressed to see him heading in that direction," What's the job," you asked at the door only to see Nat and Maria inside.

--------------------------------------

The mission was simple get in get out. HYDRA's latest threat: a hidden base in Siberia working on a new generation of enhanced using stolen S.H.I.E.L.D. technology. The mission involved only gathering intelligence, sabotaging the facility's operations, and ensuring the destruction of any cruel new serum, simple enough, hopefully.

Your mind wasn't completely in it, it was still caught up in your mission partner, and the lack of control you experienced around her. You knew this mission could be dangerous as well, HYDRA's experiments usually are, you, Bucky, and the twins are proof of that.

"Hey you alright," Nat pulled you out of your thoughts as she stood in front of you.

"Yeah," you gave a soft smile getting up and walking past her towards your locker.

"you sure, y/n," she walked towards you again, "it's okay if you're not, I know a mission like this can bring up things," she said trying to comfort you. You looked at her catching the genuineness in her eyes, stirring up those school girl butterflies.

"Yeah, I'm all good," you answered grabbing your usual knives and gadgets, "just a little nervous."

"I get it," she said going to her own locker beside you, "I wouldn't worry, we're in this together." You smiled at her cheesiness but deep down it did help lift you a little. This was the kindness you were talking about, she could be so understanding, and sweet; the great black widow, all sweet to you in private. Maybe it wasn't weakness she brought out of you.

"Destination, in ten minutes," FRIDAY announced.

"I'll land us," you said walking past Nat and into the cockpit.

The perimeter had already been infiltrated by another SHIELD unit, and a map of the facilities layout was processed with key points of interest highlighted. Natasha and you made your way up to the roof so she could access the security measures.

"Watch it," you pulled Nat back by the arm nodding down to a pressure alarm, "don't be so distracted," you commented off handedly.

"excuse me," she scoffed, "let's not talk about what happened in training today," she teased.

Ouch. You dropped her arm,rolled your eyes and looked away shameful…stubborn and prideful, "just cut the alarms already," you whispered. Natasha smirked going to the panel and connecting a small screen (another SHIELD you don't really know about), she's able to disable the security systems and time your guys entry perfectly.

"Okay check comms," Nat said quietly, checking the comms this is where the two of you split up. Natasha is to the control room to download and wipe the data, while you make it down to the labs to destroy the serum and plant the bombs.

"How's it going," you check in less than 2 minutes later. You've always gotten anxious on missions with the team, fearing any mistakes, fearing losing control; Hydra taking you again. With Nat it was ten times worse.

"Don't worry bout me, soldier," she laughed softly with a teasing tone, "focus on your mission, we'll be out soon."

"Yes, ma'am," you anxiously laughed, Nat on the other end flushing at the title.

In the control room Natasha watched the data download with only thoughts of you, it was getting bad. The flirting had started because of a physical attraction to you, your frame, your style, then it was your humor, your kindness, your awkward laugh, your belly laugh, that stupid smile, everything. Nat's daydreaming was cut off by rushed footsteps in the hall. Looking at the camera she had set up at the door she saw a squad of Hydra agents marching towards the room.

"Shit," she mumbled," Y/n, we have a -."

"Are you okay," you cut her off.

"Just get done fast, I have a squad advancing on me" she stated.

"I'm all done here, I'm--," you were cut off by the door to the labs being kicked down and flying across the room.

"What was that, are you okay," Nat asked as she finished up her task and deleting the files.

"Made contact with the enhanced," you said getting into a fighting position, as alarms began to sound.

"It'll be okay," Nat said, "we'll meet at the emergency randevu."

The enhanced made eye contact with you moving mechanically towards you like a brute, "Let's see which model's better now," you mumbled walking towards the danger.

The Prototype charged first, moving with surprising speed for its size. You dodged to the side, narrowly avoiding a crushing blow that dented the metal floor. You countered with a swift punch to the Prototype's ribs, but it barely flinched, retaliating with a backhand that sent you sprawling. The two super-soldiers exchanged a flurry of blows, each strike resonating with power, but the Prototype’s resilience and raw power were relentless. It landed a solid punch to your side, sending you crashing into a lab table. Shattered glass and spilled chemicals hissed around you as you struggled to your feet.

Why the fuck was the model so strong. The Prototype loomed over you, ready to deliver a finishing blow. Summoning all your strength, You caught the descending fist in your own, muscles straining against the force. With a roar, you twisted the Prototype's arm, using its momentum to flip it over your shoulder and into a bank of computers. The impact shattered the screens and sent sparks flying as you pulled out a knife and stabbed the prototype only feeling it cut into metal. This thing wasn't a person anymore.

The Prototype snarled, grabbing your arm and pulling you into a headbutt. Stars exploded in your vision, but you fought through the pain, kicking the Prototype’s knee again, this time hearing a satisfying crunch. Breathing heavily, you didn’t let up. You charged at the downed Prototype, delivering a series of rapid punches to its torso and face.

The Prototype faltered, its movements becoming more erratic. You saw your opening, grabbed a heavy metal rod from the debris and swung it with all you might, connecting with the side of the Prototype's head. The force of the blow sent it crashing to the ground, where it laid, unconscious.

Standing admist the wreckage trying to catch your breath, you heard an "Ahem," making you jump.

"Shit," You breathed looking at Nat in the door way, "you said meet at the randevu point" you stated.

"sorry," she smiled walking over to you and cupping your face scanning you for any damage, only to see a cut lip and you clutching your rib "looking good soldier," she teased as she scanned back up to your face catching you staring, straight back at her and glancing down to her lips, you immediately flushed, backing away.

The roof further collapsed behind you, “we have to go, I've already planted the bombs” you said grabbing her arm and pulling her towards the exit. Making it towards the facilities garage waves of Hydra operatives began to emerge.

"Shit," Nat mumbled pulling you guys back behind a wall and coming face to face, smiling at the proximity.

"Stop it," you said stepping back, "you can't keep distracting me like this."

"I don't know what your talking about," Nat smirked teasing as Hydra agents were frantically looking all around for you.

"I'm not doing this here," you stated firmly, "what do you even get out of it,” you question furthered almost exhausted. Nat pitied you in this moment, she hadn’t realized how mad she was driving you, her face softened.

"They're over here," your head's both shot to down the halls were the Hydra operatives began rushing in.

"let’s go," Natasha said grabbing your hand and booked it the other way.

Making it to the garage and pushing a crate in front of the door, Natasha had time to hijack a Hydra truck right before the doors flew open, "GO!" you shouted slamming the driver side shut and kicking a hydra agent across the room.

"Wait!" Nat shouted trying to open the door again as you pushed it shut once more.

"Just go! I'll meet you at the jet," you yelled taking out another knife.

Natasha forced herself to slam on the gas leaving you to hold off the agents. With them being unenhanced hydra cockroaches it wasn't too bad they’re was just so many of them, it’d been awhile since you’ve seen this many agents in one place. As you were throwing them and slamming them to the floor, the bombs you had planted went off in the lab went off, the building shook and flames set. The explosion allowed three agents the time to make off on motorcycles straight in Nat’s directions.

“No,” you muttered under your breath, hurling one last agent to the ground, as more of the building began to collapse, you launched into a full sprint across the Siberian snow. Your breath crystallized in the frigid air as you dodged through the trees, eyes locked on motorcycles speeding ahead. Spotting a fallen log, you seized the opportunity, using it as a makeshift ramp to propel yourself through the air. You crashed into one of the riders, sending him tumbling into the snow and commandeering his bike in one fluid motion.

Accelerating hard, you leaned low over the handlebars, feeling the icy wind whip against your face. The roar of the engine drowned out the chaos behind you as you closed in on the next target. With a quick flick of your wrist, you deployed a zip-line hook from your gauntlet, the steel cable slicing through the air and embedding itself in the frame of the bike ahead.

You toggled the slack, your muscles coiling with anticipation. At just the right moment, you yanked hard, the sudden tension in the line allowed you to throw the motorcycle and its rider careening off course. They collided with the other bike in a spectacular crash, the two vehicles intertwining and skidding across the snow in a shower of sparks and shrapnel.

Glancing over your shoulder, you saw the base in the distance, its structure collapsing floor by floor in a series of detonations. The ground trembled beneath you, the sound of destruction echoing in the frozen wilderness. You didn't slow down. There was no time to celebrate. You didn’t know if they were going to follow or not and you had to get Nat out of there.

Unbeknownst to you Natasha had witnessed the whole thing and was absolutely craving you at this point. She knew she needed you. She arrived at the Quinn jet shortly before you, jumping out the car, and immediately going to check on you.

“Are you okay,” she asked urgently grabbing your shoulders and trying to scan for any injuries before you gently pushed her hands off of you

“Let’s just get in the air,” you spoke grabbing her wrist and pulling her into the jet. You walked straight to the pilot seat and got you guys in the air. Setting it on auto pilot, Nat could sense the frustration radiating off of you. You walked right past her and into the medical area.

“Do you need any help?” She asked, as you turned your back to her and took of your mission gear leaving you in a white beater.

“No, I’m just bruised,” you said flatly as blood bled through your shirt revealing a long gash as well, “shit,” you mumbled.

“that’s not just a bruise,” she joked trying to lighten your mood

“i can see that can you just give me some space,” you snapped at her.

“okay, what’s the problem,” Nat asked walking up to you with a purpose and pulling your shoulder to make you face her

“just back off,” you said shrugging her hand off you and walking past her. You took your beater off completely and walked towards the bandages.

“it’s gonna need sti..”

“it’s not,” you cut her off, “i heal fast remember,” you opened up the sterile wipes cleaning the wound and flushing it with one of the sterile saline solutions. You gritted your teeth with pain from the wound and felt her eyes bore into your every move; it made you nervous. You reached for sterile pads to quickly knocking over a trey and hissing in pain.

“Sit down,” she said sternly. Rolling your eyes you did what was told, sitting down you raised your arm up allowing her access to pat dry the wound with sterile pads and get fresh bandages. She watched your abs flex and adjust with every move, every breath. You watched closely what her hands were doing avoiding looking at her face, “there,” she smoothed the bandage over letting out a breath.

“thanks,” you mumbled walking toward your locker for a loose jacket.

“y/n,” she called out softly walking up to you as you ignored her, "can you stop being so childish."

"Me? Childish?" you scoffed at her and rolled your eyes, "you're the one who makes all these slutty comments and feels me up at every opportunity."

"Are you serious," her volume go louder, "your upset over me flirting with you."

"Natasha, we were on a mission, a dangerous one," you shouted, "and you still, took every chance you got. I mean seriously are you in heat or something!?"

Her face flushed, "wow I didn't know your ego could get this big, I'll give you credit," she scoffed

“this isn’t an ego thing, it’s obvious you want me to fuck you, you don’t have to deny it, dont even try to,” you seethed stepping forward with practically every word, “i don’t give a fuck about you constantly flirting with me like the slut you are, no matter how much I embarrass myself, I really don’t fucking care, because I know you..you really just can’t help it” your voice dropped back to a civil level still carried with a stern sense of frustration, “I am upset because your distractions today could’ve genuinely cost us,” you stood up straight, “cost me.”

You were staring down right at her, your breaths brushed one another’s face, “what,” she whispered, “cost you what,” Nat pushed wanting to hear you say it.

“you know what,” you whispered back looking to her lips and wetting your own.

“say it, y/n” she stared at your own lips.

“cost me you Nat,” you confirmed, your gaze going back to her eyes.

"I'm sorry," Nat whispered looking up at you. You broke the gaze dropping your head and closing your eyes taking a deep breath in.

"Do you even like me," you asked barely audible.

"What?" Nat laughed shocked.

"can you just answer the question, Natasha," you said looking back into her eyes, “do you even like me, or I just something you desire.”

She could tell she was hurting you at this point, that you were genuinely upset. "Yeah," she mumbled dropping her gaze to her, hands she looked small, "I do."

You cupped her face, bring her gaze back to you, your eyes scanning over every little feature, "but you just want me to fuck you too," you whispered staring at her lips, "don't you."

"I do," she answered as your lips inched closer and closer.

"say it," you said over her lips, "tell me what you want, Natasha."

Her hands went to yours," I want.." she whispered getting closer to your lips, "I want you to fuck me, y/n" She looked up into your eyes, "please," A shit-eating grin came upon your face as one hand moved to loosely wrap around her neck and your lips finally slammed together. You roughly pushed Natasha against the other lockers causing her to let out the most wanton pornographic moan ever, fueling the pit in your stomach. Breaking apart, your hands dropped to her hips keeping her in her place as she chased after your lips for more," please, y/n, don't tease."

You laughed looking down at her already swollen lips and licking your own, "Please, Nat," you said getting closer to her lips again, "I'm going to do whatever I want after all this shit you've pulled." Your lips went to the column of her neck, resulting in more of her pretty sounds and her hands in your hair. Your hands dropped lower towards the back of her thighs giving a light pull, she immediately jumped to wrap them around you. Your lips moved back to hers, kissing passionately, you swiped your tongue across her bottom lip, her own tongue pushing into your mouth as her hips moved in search of friction. You pulled the two of you away from the wall and carried her with ease to the medical bed not once breaking the kiss.

You placed her gently on her back, crawling over her, and moving your lips back to her neck. You bit marks into what was finally yours, as your hand moved to pull down the zipper on the front of her suit, "is this okay," you asked.

Nat smiled as her hips lifted towards you and her hands went further into your hair, "more than okay," she breathed, "I'm yours," she whispered across your lips, "and I want you to do whatever you want to me," she looked into your eyes pupils completely blown. Your lips locked in another passionate kiss, this time brief. Each touch caused shivers through Nat, her breath hitching in anticipation as you pulled the zipper down further and pulled the suit from her body, exposing her skin inch by inch.

"You're so beautiful," you murmured, sitting up and taking in her disheveled look as she lay in her bra and underwear.

"Take this off," she unzipped your jacket and pushed it off your shoulders. Hands scratching over your abs and back to your hair as she pulled you back into another kiss. Both breathing heavy and desperate your lips moved back to trail down Natasha's neck, leaving a path of more marks. When you finally reached Natasha's chest, your hand wrapped around to unclip her bra, your mouth immediately latching onto her nipple earning a gasp from Nat, "Y/n please," she whimpered, hands tugging in your hair to pull you closer. With a growl of need, you continued your descent, your mouth leaving a burning trail down Natasha's stomach. Kissing lightly above her underwear, you locked eye for further permission at which Nat nodded eagerly too, hooking your fingers in her underwear, Natasha's eyes fluttered shut, her hips lifting urging you to move faster.

Pulling her underwear off, Nat's core glistened with need. You couldn't help but smirk and kiss around the place she needed you most. You spread her legs wider, hands gripping her thighs firmly, as you littered love bits all over them, "Please, Y/n, I'm begging you," she moaned as you ghosted over her clit again.

The great Black Widow begging. You didn't waste another second, your mouth latched on to her core, tongue flicking out to taste what was finally yours. Natasha cried out, her back arching off the bed, causing you to moan into her core, and her to thrash more. You forced her hips down with more strength bound to leave bruises after. Your tongue moved expertly, alternating between teasing flicks and deep rough strokes. Natasha's moans gre louder, her hands pulling desperately at your hair. "Oh god, Y/n," she gasped, her body trembling.

Your grip tightened on Natasha's thighs, holding her in place further as you increased your pace. Tongue delving deeper, your mouth worked Natasha closer and closer to the edge. Natasha's moans turned into invoherent cries from the stimulation, her body writhing beneath you.

"Go ahead," you mumbled, " come for me, pretty girl," the vibrations sent Natasha over the edge as she screamed your name, her body convulsing as waves of pleasure crashed over her.

You didn't stop, your mouth continuing to work Natasha through her orgasm until she was a trembling, breathless mess. Only then did you pull back, lips glistening with Natasha's arousal. You crawled back up her body, capturing her lips in a searing kiss.

"your mine," you whispered against her lips, "as I am yours."

Natasha nodded weakly, giving a blissful smile, her eyes glazed with satisfaction. "Always," she answered, hand still tangled in your hair.

#enhanced!reader #marvel fanfic #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x reader #marvel #bottom!nat #super soldier #black widow x y/n #natasha x y/n #natasha romanov

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pellucid-constellations · 2 years ago

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Are You Bored Yet?

Pairing: College!Bucky x Tutor!Reader

Summary: God, you hated Bucky. Bucky probably hated you, too. Maybe. It was hard to tell when he was drunk and calling you pretty at a party you shouldn't have gone to.

Word count: 8k

Warnings: Alcohol, annoyance to lovers, a bit of angst, a scary man in a parking lot, frat!bucky c:

a/n: I am so excited to finally post something!! It only took me four months 😅 If you enjoy it please please let me know ❤️❤️

Masterlist

12:59 pm.

The birchwood table nestled in the back of the library was long but otherwise empty, the only thing occupying it being your laptop and quite a few books. He wasn’t late. Yet. You weren’t going to hold onto that hope, however.

Tutoring Bucky Barnes was not what you had in mind when you volunteered for the peer assistance program at your university. It was true you were only using the club to boost your resume, but you had assumed the only people reaching out for help would be those that actually wanted it. Unfortunately, that was not the case.

Sure, Bucky wanted help. Just not with anything that actually warranted the word. He wanted help sweet talking the cops so they wouldn't shut down his parties. He wanted help recruiting girls to show up to his parties. And—the one thing you could actually do—he wanted help passing his classes with the minimum GPA required to not get kicked out of his frat. So he could continue to throw parties.

Everything in his life revolved around his fraternity, which made you very important to him. When he wanted you to be.

With your apparently astounding knowledge of biology (you took notes during lectures), you became the star in Bucky’s life every Monday and Wednesday from 1:00 pm (give or take ten minutes) to 2:00 pm. He was also very attentive during the thirty minute phone calls he initiated prior to tests, and always looked happy to see you when he passed you devouring a bagel at the crack of dawn in the dining hall.

Every situation in which you had come in contact with Bucky was isolated and purposeful (minus the bagel). You didn’t hang out or invite each other places, and you were almost positive that if you were to see him in his natural habitat, you would want to tutor him even less than you did now, and that was saying something. So you were important to Bucky during the times you were supposed to be important, and he was important to you in the sense that he was a job.

But as your laptop blinked the numbers 1:22 pm back at your unimpressed expression, Bucky became much less important today. You took in a long, tortured breath before sending your gaze up to the ceiling, giving it another three minutes before you truly gave up on him for the day.

One minute.

Two minutes.

The library really needed new ceiling tiles.

1:25 pm and you snapped your laptop shut. Your fingers itched to send yet another complaint about this whole ordeal Natasha’s way, but you stopped yourself. She had already heard plenty about Barnes at this point, plus she always gave you a weird look every time you came stomping into the apartment, grumbling about something else he had done.

You hated her weird looks, all raised eyebrows and stiff lips.

With your backpack heaved onto the table and your things slowly funneling in, you figured a nap was the best reward for sitting in the library for an unnecessary twenty-five minutes. Your last prickle of irritation was stifled at the prospect of a warm bed as you stood, only to find that irritation had returned to you tenfold. In the form of Bucky Barnes.

“You going somewhere?” he seemed to taunt, his bag slung casually over one shoulder.

Your jaw ticked. “Home.”

His mouth turned up at one side, an expression you had learned meant he found you amusing. He never seemed to outright laugh at your annoyance, but apparently, it was hard to tamp down all of the joy he got out of it. Bucky took two long strides to meet the table you were attempting to abandon.

“But I still got about—” he checked his watch “—thirty-three minutes? And an arsenal of questions about amino acids. Help a guy out.”

“And I still got—” you checked the nonexistent watch on your wrist “—no patience for this today. You’re over twenty minutes late, Barnes. Use that watch to set an alarm on Wednesday and I’ll tell you everything you’ll inevitably forget about amino acids then.”

He groaned, rounding the table to set firm hands on your shoulders as he hovered behind you. “Sit. I’ll buy you a coffee and I promise I won’t be late on Wednesday, okay? I was dealing with something before this and lost track of time.”

“Were you dealing with another sorority girl in your bed? Who was it last week? Amber? No, Michelle?”

“It’s a Monday, y/n. Cut me some slack.”

“You came to me on a Wednesday with a hangover,” you deadpanned.

Bucky grimaced, the expression visible to you as he managed to guide you back into your chair. “Oat milk, right? A double?”

You grumbled, crossing your arms over your chest as he tossed his bag by your feet and jogged over to the coffee cart just outside the library. He fumbled with his wallet when he went to pay, and you watched him point to the carton of oat milk the barista had yet to reach for. His greek letters were printed on the gray hoodie he had haphazardly thrown over his shoulders, and you held the reprimand on your tongue when you saw the matching sweatpants he donned.

The last time he had shown up in his pajamas—late—you’d had some choice words for him. Bucky turned around with your coffee then, poking the straw through the lid and sending you a sheepish smile through the window.

He was lucky you accepted bribes.

“Please,” the boy across from you continued to beg, a pen held loosely between pliant fingers. “Just ask her, that’s all I want. You can even come too.”

“Oh, wow, the great frat president letting me come to his stupid toga party? How could I ever thank you enough?”

It was Wednesday now, and Bucky was surprisingly on time to the tutoring session. You’d gotten through about half of the last bio lecture before he started asking you ridiculous questions that had nothing to do with the content. Today, he was dead set on getting your lab partner from chemistry to go to his party this weekend.

“Okay, yeah, you could come to whatever party you want, you know? I put you on the list—but this one will be even better if you’d just do this one thing for me.”

You finally tore your eyes from your laptop, glancing lazily at him. “And what would make this one so—wait, what list?”

He waved you off. “The one at the door. Did it like… the second week we started this? Anyways, Wanda?”

You let this new information settle and tried to ignore whatever implications came with being on some frat list thanks to Bucky. He had never explicitly invited you to any of his parties over the past few months and you had never asked to come. Apparently, you could have shown up whenever you wanted to and had a grand old time.

Not that that sounded the least bit grand.

Bucky was looking at you still, all pleading features and a soft, infuriating smile on his lips. When he wasn’t talking to random girls in the library or taking annoying phone calls in the middle of your sessions, he was sort of endearing. In a terrible, awful sense.

You groaned, throwing yourself back against your chair in begrudging defeat. “I don’t even talk to her outside of chem. Don’t you think it’d be a little weird to invite her to a party that I’m not even going to?”

“So come,” he answered simply, as if that was in the realm of possibilities.

“Yeah,” you scoffed. “Sure, I’ll come to your party, Barnes.”

“Great,” he grinned. “Vision’s gonna be so hyped.”

You watched as he pulled his phone from his pocket and kept your lie to yourself. He wouldn’t notice that you didn’t show up on Friday, and likely wouldn’t even bring it up the following Monday. He always had such vibrant, headache-inducing stories that you were sure your absence would be nothing more than a fleeting footnote.

“You have a toga, right?” he mumbled, face still screwed up in concentration as he continued his text.

“Isn’t it just a sheet all twisted up?” you asked, shutting your computer. Tutoring was obviously over.

Bucky pocketed his phone again, brows raised in amusement. “Depends on your motives for the night.”

“And my motives wouldn’t be to… wear a toga?”

He chuckled and huffed out your name, resting an arm along the back of the chair to his right—your chair. “Other motives. Like if you’re trying to get someone’s attention.”

You blinked at the warmth along your back. “Oh, of course. Then I would twist up a pillowcase instead, right?”

“Something like that.”

He smelled like coconut. Like a day at the beach but afterwards, when the sunscreen still lingered in the air but fresh clothes covered skin that had been warmed by the sun. You could usually ignore whatever expensive combination he had on his skin, but when he got close like this it was almost impossible.

Part of you always wanted to chuck his arm away when he leaned over you, but another part of you liked that he kept it there. It was a strange part of you, the same one that relished the looks you got from sorority girls in the library and harbored a sense of pride each time he made a blatant attempt to touch you.

You had spent fleeting moments analyzing these emotions and chalked them up to some internalized desire for validation. Nothing else. Bucky was a hot guy and everyone knew that, so having his attention—in any capacity—felt nice. Sometimes. Meaning right now it was nice that he was looking at you with his arm practically glued to your back, but next week when he showed up late with a hangover and tried to steal the jacket off your body it would be not so nice.

The duality of man.

It helped your partial insanity that Bucky would never actually be interested in you. You weren’t in a sorority or interested to his parent’s money, and, worst of all, you didn’t know how to maneuver a sheet into a toga. When he put his arm around you or moved your hair from your eyes as you leaned over a book, it was probably out of habit. It felt nice, but you knew reality. This was a passing phase, and by the summer you wouldn’t even speak to him anymore.

“I’ll text you more info about everything,” Bucky called, pulling you from your thoughts. “You can come early and I’ll help you with that pillowcase.”

You froze, the book you were shoving into your bag pausing in your hands. “Uh, maybe.”

“No, seriously, it’d be better if you came early. I was kidding about the pillowcase but if you come on time it’ll be too crazy for me to show you around.”

“You don’t have to show me around, Bucky. I’ve been to a house party before.”

“Y/n, are you not coming to this thing?” Bucky accused, swiping the book from your hands and softly tossing it on the table. It still made a loud thud that had a few bitter looks thrown your way.

“Dude!” you whispered, meeting each mean gaze with your apologetic one. “Why does it matter if I come? You just wanted Wanda anyway.”

He knocked your hand away when you went to reach for the book again, encircling your wrist with his fingers. “You just lied to me. Straight to my face. You said you’d come and now you gotta.”

You gave his fingers an experimental tug, but he was unrelenting in his soft grip. You glared at him through your lashes, meeting his uncharacteristically stern gaze that contrasted the humor on his lips.

“You ever hear of sarcasm?” you whispered with a half-hearted bite.

“Unfortunately, that’s about all I hear outta you,” he smirked back.

You rolled your eyes, finally yanking hard enough to free yourself from him. “Then you should have known I wasn’t going to come. No matter what ‘list’ you put me on.”

“What else could you possibly have going on on a Friday night?”

Ouch. You felt your brows furrow even though you didn’t will them to, and even worse, you felt a rash defensiveness lodge itself in your throat. You hated the heat that now prickled along the skin of your neck, and you hated even more how it extinguished all of the good warmth you had felt from him earlier.

This was humiliation, surely—the kind that only came from feeling small.

“You don’t have to be a dick,” you seethed, snapping up the remainder of your belongings. “Just because I don’t want to go to your stupid frat doesn't mean I have nothing to do. I don’t spend all of my time hoping to get invited to ridiculous parties.”

Bucky shifted up in his seat, eyes blown just a fraction wider. “Whoa, I didn’t mean—hey, stop a sec, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Whatever, Bucky,” you droned, as a new temperature seeped into the skin of your palms and made them clammy. Any semblance of delusion you’d fallen into earlier was long gone now, but you knew to expect that. He wasn’t interested in you and you weren’t interested in him. But embarrassment wasn’t a good feeling, regardless of a multitude of reality checks.

Bucky got up when you did, his clothes looking creased and lived in. “We still have time in our session,” he defended, arm jutting out to the table. “C’mon, I didn’t mean you don’t have friends.”

Your glare sharpened. “Great, another insinuation.”

Bucky sputtered out incoherent words as you continued your trek outside, resorting to grabbing your wrist again, this time with more urgency. You felt the heat in you simmer down to a dull throb as he made contact, mostly out of respect for your future self. If you made this a huge deal it would only embarrass you more.

“Look, it doesn’t even matter, okay?” you huffed, but he just tugged you forward. It was then that you realized you were in the doorway of the library, effectively blocking it off from anyone trying to leave. Bucky pulled you close enough to his chest that you weren’t in the way anymore. His cologne was back with a vengeance, your nose just inches from his collar.

You took a steadying breath, blinking away the remnants of shame. “It doesn’t matter, I overreacted.”

He clicked his tongue. “I’m still apologizing. I didn’t mean any of that stuff you were talking about.”

Of course he did. You were sure he thought it all the time. He just didn’t mean to say it out loud.

“It’s fine,” you rushed. “I have to go, anyway. Office hours.”

“Okay,” he nodded, soft and low, like he just remembered he was in a library. “You’ll still come this weekend, right? Even if Wanda can’t?”

“You have some kind of girl quota you need to meet?” you pressed.

Bucky smiled, still so close to you that you could feel the small breath that accompanied the expression. “And she’s back.”

You left without promising anything, and Bucky left feeling like you had.

Sometime between Wednesday and Friday, your detestment for frat parties had snowballed into determination. You were going to go and you were going to look like you were having so much fun it was ridiculous. Then, on Monday, when Bucky would usually poke and prod about what you’d gotten up to over the past few days, you were going to pretend that it was nothing for you. That you did that every weekend.

Of course, you didn’t. Your weekends typically consisted of calm nights with friends or dinners near campus. You’d been to a party before, sure, but you didn’t exactly frequent those kinds of scenes.

Bucky had continued to make it clear that you were invited. He had texted you a few times, prompting you to come and thanking you for getting Wanda to agree. The messages looked strange under the plethora of biology related questions, but that just spurred you further into action. You weren’t just a tutor with no social life, and Bucky was going to see that tonight. You couldn’t remember doing something out of pure spite before, but you figured having fun to prove a point wasn’t the worst thing.

Wanda pulled you out of your thoughts as the Uber rounded the last dark corner and revealed an overcrowded house with too many lights on. She rambled on about some guy she couldn’t wait to see and confirmed that she would likely be spending the night. You expected as much; it hadn’t taken much convincing to get her to come. If this night resulted in anything good it was apparently the blossoming relationship between your new friend and a man you’d never met.

Wanda continued to chat as she yanked you out of the car and past the yard littered with sparse grass. The music was loud already—the type of loud that you needed to be at least a little drunk to enjoy. And that was the plan.

“Okay, if I start dancing on a table you pull me down. And if you start dancing on a table I support you, right?” Wanda giggled, her voice now raised as you walked past the threshold of the house.

“Exactly,” you yelled back. A guy nodded to you as he leaned against the front door, his eyes glancing up from his phone and then returning. It seemed Bucky’s ‘list’ was a page on some guy’s notes app. How luxurious. “Let’s drink.”

The next hour was a blur. You tried your hardest to get as drunk as possible and Wanda tried her hardest to find the British man she was enamored with. You hadn’t seen Bucky, but you figured he wasn’t looking for you too hard since you hadn’t responded to any of his texts. Not out of anger, but because you didn’t know what to say. Somehow, with alcohol warming your blood and music vibrating your skin, none of that mattered anymore.

You: Your house is soooo dirty

Your phone jostled in your grip, people bumping into you from every side. When he didn’t answer in the thirty seconds you spent staring at the screen, you locked it and continued on with your mission.

After a few too many shots of hard liquor, you switched to beer. Gross, but decidedly less likely to make you pass out on the staircase of this house. Because you weren’t lying in your text—it was slightly disgusting. You figured you should clarify that with Bucky. You reached for your phone once again, knocking your head against the wall in the process and giggling to yourself. You had no idea where Wanda went.

The device was snatched from your hands just as quickly as the screen had lit up your face.

“You ever answer this thing?” an accusing voice called out. “Or do you just insult people and put it on do not disturb?”

The look on Bucky’s face would have made you roll your eyes in any other circumstance. Right now, however, it had a startled laugh bursting past your lips. You clutched at your stomach as the laugh grew and you found yourself tipping forward until your forehead met his chest. You felt delirious, almost silly. A hand came around to rest on the back of your neck.

“Alright, alright.” Bucky’s words rumbled against your face. “I get it, this is hilarious.”

“Your… your face,” you breathed out, catching your breath enough to part from him. “It was all—” you mimicked the straight line of his eyebrows, voice raising in a mocking tone. “—You don’t ever answer your phone. You’re so boring, y/n, answer your phone.”

“I didn’t call you boring. Hey—hey,” Bucky stressed, reaching for you as you leaned too far to the side, a smile still lingering on your face. “Jesus, y/n, how much did you have to drink?”

You went to mock him again, but his fingers on your jaw stopped you. He tilted your head up and to the left, and although he was much more composed than you were, you could still smell the alcohol on his breath. You scrunched up your nose as he continued his inspection.

“Why’re you being so uptight?” you slurred, trying and failing to push away from him. “I thought you were all like, ‘I’m Bucky and I party and get drunk and have sex with girls.’”

Bucky pulled you forward as you laughed at your impression of him, his shaking head making you blink away a bout of dizziness. You toppled over a set of stairs as he threaded his fingers through yours, and then you stumbled through a doorway and onto carpeted floors. Being pressed into an uncomfortable chair was the most jarring action, the world still spinning as you sat.

“You’re even more mean when you're drunk,” you heard Bucky mumble. You couldn’t quite catch him as he moved around whatever room you were in. “And I don’t talk like that.”

You let out a careless sigh and leaned back. “You soooo talk like that.”

Something cold pressed to your hand, followed by another touch to the back of your neck. You gazed down at the water bottle being guided up to your lips and couldn’t find it in you to fight against it, despite the small spark of defiance on the tip of your tongue. After about four large swallows, Bucky was satisfied.

He asked again how much you’d had to drink.

You answered that you didn’t know—that it didn’t matter because he wasn’t your dad and you were having fun like you always did. He bit the inside of his cheek and didn’t say anything for the next few moments.

And then, “Thought you weren’t gonna come tonight.”

You hummed, rolling your head against the chair to look up at his standing form. “Of course I was going to come. I love parties. Love drinking alcohol.”

His expression twisted into something you couldn’t recognize. “God, you’re so drunk.”

“M’not even that drunk!”

“You’re willingly in my room right now. You’re plastered.”

“Maybe I want to be in your room.”

“We both know that’s not true.”

You chuckled breathily, closing your eyes so you wouldn’t have to see the pretty flush of Bucky’s face. “You think you know everything, don’t you? Don’t know much about me though. Or biology.”

Bucky kneeled down to the height of the chair. “And what do I not know about you?”

“So much.”

“How much?”

You bit into your lip and cracked an eye open, catching the amusement that had slipped past the strange mask of his emotions. With blissful ignorance, you heaved yourself forward on the chair, your nose a few inches from Bucky’s. His eyes didn’t waver from yours as you swayed.

“You don’t know that I’m the most interesting person on Earth,” you boasted, fingers gripping the upholstery of your seat.

“That right?” Bucky probed, his voice a melodic hum.

“Yup, I’m always really busy and even though you think I’m some boring biology tutor I’m actually super cool and, like, go to raves and stuff.”

His brow twitched but his mouth stayed soft. “I’ve never said you were boring. And I don’t think you’ve ever been to a rave.”

You groaned loudly and flopped against the backrest of the chair. “See! I’m telling you I do all this cool stuff and I’m so drunk my fingers are buzzing and you still don’t believe me.”

You crossed your arms with a huff, a small pout forming on your lips. In any other context, this behavior would probably embarrass you to no end. In the dim light of Bucky’s room where you felt the feeling leave your fingers and the care leave your mind, you were just disgruntled, not embarrassed. If you remembered this tomorrow the latter would surely catch up to you.

Bucky stared at you from his spot on the ground, his gaze a bit foggy and unfocused. He was clearly intoxicated, as you deduced earlier, and it made him look more wild. Mused hair and pink cheeks, he looked like he’d been having plenty of fun before he found you. It was distracting. He was distracting you from proving that you were having a blast.

“What?” you snapped, the tone a testament to the drunken fit you were throwing.

“You’re so fucking pretty.”

He must be really, really drunk. Despite your clouded mind, you knew that, but the words affected you just the same. Your lips parted as a new lightness both lit up and compressed your chest, and Bucky watched the movement.

“Yeah,” you scoffed, but it was hardly a scoff. “Sure, Bucky. How much did you have to drink—”

“I’m not lying. I’ve thought about you in my room for weeks and now you’re here and you’re so pretty. Even when you’re yelling at me.”

“You’ve… thought about me in your room?”

Bucky shuffled forward and you subconsciously parted your legs to allow the space for him. “I think about you everywhere.”

This was crazy. It was certifiably insane. A voice in the back of your head—Natasha’s voice, it sounded like—was screaming at you to stop and think about the situation at hand. He was drunk, you were even more drunk, and he was far too close to you. He had ushered you in here with good intentions and had sobered you up a fraction, but things had taken a turn and this was a sensitive situation. The kind of sensitive that altered your reality and his and probably a bunch of other people’s you’d never met.

Or it could be nothing and you were over exaggerating.

But then Bucky’s hand was warming your thigh. You’d felt the press of it on your back and your shoulder and your head before, but it had never been on your thigh. It felt heavy there, hot. His other hand moved to touch your face and he propped himself up on one knee. His thumb brushed your cheek. Words tumbled from your mouth before you registered that you were speaking.

“Are you going to kiss me?”

Why would you ask that? Who asks Bucky Barnes if he’s going to kiss them?

“Would you let me?” he responds.

“Yes.”

He didn’t waste any time, his mouth hot against yours. He tasted like mint and vodka and his lips moved so slowly it ached. You had expected a fervor behind his lips, but instead you got a build up, an orchestra reaching its crescendo. He was kissing you like you were important, like this wasn’t some random hookup in his bedroom at 1 o’clock in the morning, and you had to catch your breath when he parted from you.

But he moved back in so quickly after your brief respite, and you were eager to give him more. This was crazy, insane. This was the best kiss you’d ever have and also the worst. This was months of staring at his stupid lips when he tried explaining concepts back to you, but this was also weeks of feeling small in his presence. Bucky slid his hand back to press against your hair and you didn’t feel small anymore.

A loud thud from the hallway interrupted the silence you’d created, and Bucky pulled back, keeping his hands on you as he craned his neck around to stare at the door. He waited a beat, and then two, and then he turned back to you. The moment was gone, but he was still touching you. You weren’t sure what you wanted—if you wanted him to kiss you again or run out the door—but when he slid his hands from your body and rubbed them down his jeans, it became clear that was not what you wanted.

A knot formed in your stomach when he met your gaze again, and you tried blinking the feeling away. It didn’t work.

“Um,” Bucky began, his voice sounding more clear, his tone not holding the weight it had.

Your plan had backfired. Severely. This was a mess and you needed to save yourself before you ended this night even more humiliated.

You were still drunk. Pretend you were still plastered.

You giggled airily, the sound burning your throat. “That was loud.”

Bucky blinked at you in what you assumed was disbelief. “Probably just someone trying to find the bathroom,” he clarified.

You shrugged, nudging him back with your knee as you stood from the chair. “I’m bored now.” You took fast steps to the door, your words foreign to you. “Thanks for the water,” you all but gritted out.

You expected him to get up. Not to run after you or proclaim his love or even say anything. But you expected him to get up.

He didn’t, and you couldn’t understand how the knot in your stomach had moved to your throat. Or how it made tears spring to your eyes when your feet hit the sidewalk outside. Your Uber came and you couldn’t understand how you felt hot and cold at the same time. How it was freezing outside but you were sweating.

You couldn’t understand why you were crying over a boy that so often infuriated you, or why he kissed you in his bedroom. The reasonable side of you sent gentle reminders that he was in a frat and kissing people is just what he did. All the time. But the unreasonable side of you won out tonight, and it was telling you that this felt different.

That you should be different, somehow.

Bucky: You’re here???

Bucky: Where are you?

Bucky: Y/n answer your damn phone

Bucky: This place is fucking packed tonight I thought you weren’t coming

You stared at the text messages you hadn’t read last night, the bright light of your phone burning into your retinas. You had a brutal hangover, and the memory of the disaster in Bucky’s room felt like an even bigger one.

You’d gone through a myriad of emotions the night before, tossing around excuses and speeches in your head until you were so exhausted you let the alcohol in your system lull you to sleep. With all of that delirious thinking, you’d landed on blacking out. You were going to tell Bucky you blacked out last night and couldn’t remember a thing. He obviously wouldn’t care and would probably appreciate it.

Saturday was slow-moving. Reruns of television shows and bags of popcorn and overthinking. Natasha was at her parent’s house in the city, so you had no one to bounce your racing thoughts off of. You certainly weren’t going to text her about it.

When the evening finally rolled around and your attempts at distracting yourself with mind-numbing movies failed, you checked your email. You always tried not to on the weekends, but doing anything else sounded much less appealing.

Unfortunately, you didn’t get past the first one.

From: University Peer Assistance Program

Dear Y/n Y/l/n,

This is an automated message from the campus peer assistance program. We thank you for your continued devotion to the betterment of students at this school. At this time, your tutoring placement with James Barnes has ended. We will search for a new placement to fill your current hours.

Thank you,

University Peer Assistance

You blinked at the email, then blinked again. The breath left your chest and the muscles on your face twitched, but you were otherwise frozen.

This was what you wanted, wasn’t it? To be free from the haughty frat boy that didn’t even listen to you when you tried to help him raise his grades. You wanted someone nice, someone that had the same goals as you and appreciated the color-coded notes you took for them. Bucky only tried to get a rise out of you. He sat too close and made fun of you and put you on lists you didn’t ask to be on.

But he had kissed you. He had kissed you and then tutor-dumped you.

You knew you weren’t his type, but were you really that bad? Was the kiss so terrible?

Every inferiority complex you had developed exploded. You over-analyzed things that had already happened, things you had said. Not just at the party, but in the library, the coffee shops, the lecture halls.

Was he really willing to risk his position in the frat just to avoid you?

The strangle tickle of tears itched to be released from your eyes again, but you pressed it down. No, this wasn’t on you. He had kissed you. He had dragged you into his room and stumbled on pretty words. If he didn’t want you to tutor him anymore because of his stupid mistake, fine.

His mistake.

That word felt wrong.

You tossed your phone on the couch with vigor. The clock above the television read out 10 pm, but that meant little to you as you slid on your shoes at the front door. You were wearing sweatpants and a jacket that was far too big on you, sadness and frustration and raw confusion propelling you down your apartment stairs.

Ice cream would fix this.

The only place open at this time was the gas station at the edge of campus. It wasn’t university affiliated and was usually overrun with belligerent greek life trying to buy alcohol, but the decision-making part of your brain was currently shut off.

Ice cream, anger, probably watching tiktoks until your eyes were too heavy to keep open—those were the only things rattling in your head.

You yanked open the gas station door after your short walk, the glass smudged and fogged from the cold night. The fluorescent lights aggravated the headache you’d been sporting all day and the floor made sticking noises with each step you took. To add insult to injury, there were only three cartons of ice cream left, and they weren’t even the good flavors. Grabbing the least offensive one, you made your way to the small line of people by the register.

“Nice outfit.”

Too enthralled by the disappointing ingredient list on the side of your ice cream, you had missed the tall man now looming at your shoulder. You whipped your head around with a start, taking a step back, smelling menthol and asphalt and nothing good.

“Thanks,” you quietly replied.

He waited until you turned back around to continue. “You go to school over here?”

You kept your gaze forward. “Um, yeah.”

“Nice. I graduated a few years back. Marketing.”

“Cool,” you replied. What had compelled you to leave your phone on the couch? This night sucked.

You found reprieve in the line moving, the employee calling you over to check out. As soon as you paid—a few dollar bills funneled out of your pocket with shaky hands—you booked it. Your ice cream burned in your palm but you didn’t care, feet carrying you out the door and into the dimly lit parking lot. You fisted your keys in your fingers; pointless, you knew, but a small comfort.

The man’s voice returned with the chime of the bell over the gas station door. “Wait! Wait, I’m Beck. I own a business nearby.”

You should have kept walking, but one of your fatal flaws was, apparently, people pleasing. You turned to him. He smiled at you but it made your stomach twist.

“Oh, nice,” you responded, rocking back on your heels.

“We should connect. Maybe go for coffee or something?” He took a step forward. You fought the urge to take one back. His beard was unkempt and he held a six pack in his white-knuckled grip.

“Um, I don’t know. I’m pretty busy with finals coming up. Plus, I’m not really in the business field.”

“Not for business then,” he smiled again, teeth dull in the streetlight.

Just agree. If you agreed you could block him soon after and everything would be fine.

You took too long to answer. He took the final step forward to arrive in your space and wrapped his fingers around your bicep. “C’mon, I’m not asking you to marry me or anything.”

Frozen by fear, you let out a weak laugh. The pint in your hand was sticking to your skin now in a way that would be painful when you tried to let go of it later. Your breath rattled in your chest when you laughed again.

“Sure, okay.” But he didn’t let go of your arm, instead sliding it down to the bone of your wrist.

“What about now?” he posed. “You don’t look too busy. I can make you something at my place.”

He was at least ten years older than you. You attempted to pull yourself from his grasp to no avail. Maybe reasoning would work.

“My roommate's waiting for me,” you lied. “Could you let go? I sprained my wrist at the gym last week,” you lied again.

He refused with a shake of his head. You took a panicked glance inside the gas station to your right. No one was looking.

“Please let go of me.”

The call of your name from the other side of the parking lot initially sent more unbearable fear down your spine. But then the owner of that voice registered in your brain, and although it had been the cause of your recent internal strife, you couldn't be more grateful to hear it.

He said your name again, closer now and questioning. Bucky jogged up to the pair of you, saw your wrist and the man holding it hostage, and looked back up at you with confused, wild eyes.

“You know this guy?” he asked, jutting his thumb out at Beck.

“No,” you whispered. The word was short but the syllable still trembled.

Bucky didn’t look confused anymore. He looked pissed. “Wanna take your fucking hands off her?”

Beck was tall, but Bucky was taller. And angry. Beck released your wrist and raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Whoa, man, no need for the theatrics. I’m guessing you’re here to stock up for a party? I used to be in Sigma Nu.”

When Bucky’s silent glare failed to dampen, Beck continued with, “We were just planning a night at my place, right?”

His nod in your direction made your breath catch. Bucky took his piercing gaze off of Beck and softened it as it fell on you. You wanted to respond, but words were gone. They were impossible. Your ice cream was melting.

“Yeah, I think we’re done here,” Bucky scoffed, placing his arm around your shoulder. He guided you past the wall of a man, making sure to drive his shoulder into his chest as he went. Beck went to say more, to protest or whine, but Bucky shot him such a scathing look it almost made you wither.

The smell of coconut and spices and a hint of whisky met your nose, and it was familiar. It was safe. You fumbled with the keys in your hands as your feet guided you wherever Bucky was going, and then you fumbled even more, soft jingling disrupting the softness of footfall. God, why wouldn’t you stop shaking?

A hand fell atop yours, crunching the keys to a halt. You stared down at them, unsteady breath hitting the tanned fingers that served as your current anchor.

“Look at me, y/n.”

You couldn’t. You couldn’t do anything.

“Sweetheart, eyes up. All you gotta do.” Bucky’s voice was as soft as it was last night. That was the only reason you were able to follow his request. “There she is,” he hummed.

He removed his arm from your shoulders and shifted in front of you, placing his hand on your cheek. You ignored that it felt the same as it had last night. You ignored that you wanted it to feel the same for him, too.

“You okay?” he asked, tilting his neck down to better see your face. His thumb brushed under your eye. “He hurt you?”

You shook your head, whispering no, whispering that you were fine.

Bucky nodded to himself, eyes tracking down to your toes and then back up again. He must have mistaken your shaking for coldness because the next thing he did was guide you into the car behind him. You didn’t know it was his.

He blasted the heat the second he got in. He had shuffled you into your seat with his hands before that, smoothed your hair down and closed the door after you were settled and not shaking as hard. The heat dried out your eyes. It distracted you enough to let words form.

“Thank you,” you said. “He wouldn’t leave me alone. I didn’t bring my phone with me. I should’ve.”

“Of course.”

There was a beat of silence. The relief you had felt earlier had been muddled down to an awkward pit in your stomach, and you weren’t sure if Bucky felt it too or if he was still riding a testosterone-fueled adrenaline high.

You wanted to go home now; this was uncomfortable and you had felt Bucky’s lips on yours less than twenty-four hours ago with no closure. He obviously didn’t want to be around you. This was probably a responsibility thing for him.

“I can… I can walk home now. The guy left. I’m just a quarter mile away and you probably have to stock up or whatever.”

He looked at you with a pinched expression. “I’m not letting you walk home after that. You kiddin’ me?”

“I’ll be fine, really. I walk over here all the time.”

“You get harassed all the time too?”

“No…”

“Exactly. So you’re not walking home.”

“Bucky—”

“Look I’m not gonna kiss you again, alright? So you don’t have to turn down a ride because of that.”

Your ice cream was soup at this point. You let it roll into your lap as you clamped your mouth shut just to open it again. Bucky ran a rough hand through his hair before dropping it on the steering wheel, clutching at it with no place to go.

“I’m not following,” you finally relented.

A loud sigh released from his nose. “You don’t have to worry about me kissing you again. I just want to make sure you get home safe and then I’ll leave you alone.”

“Worry about—you’re the one trying to avoid me,” you snapped, frozen fingers pointing to your chest. “You tutor-dumped me.”

“Tutor-dumped? How do you…” he trailed off.

“I get an email when you make a change request, Bucky.”

He stared at you for a moment, lips parted and unmoving. He clenched his jaw a moment later, a red tint adorning his cheeks.

“Well, you—you—look, I know you don’t like me, y/n. You’ve made that clear,” he stuttered, words getting louder as he moved his hands around with each one. “But I like you. I like when you get mad at me and when you yell at me for not listening and when you get all embarrassed when I play with your hair. And I’ve been trying to get you to come to one of my parties since we started this whole thing, but every time I talk about them you seem to like me even less.

“If I had known insulting you would get your attention, I woulda done that week one,” he exasperated. You sat up in your seat but he continued. “I didn’t mean any of that shit you thought I did. You’re not boring. And I didn’t mean to kiss you, but you looked—well, I already told you.”

“So you don’t want me to be your tutor anymore because you like me?” You spoke slowly, each word careful.

“No,” he sighed, frustrated. “I can’t be around you because I kissed you and you didn’t care. Because I’ll want to kiss you all the time and you didn’t even wanna kiss me once. I know we were drunk, I get that, but I’ve wanted that for a long time and I need to move on. It’s nothing against your… tutoring skills. If that’s what you’re worried about”

“But you talk about hooking up with other girls all the time, Bucky. To me.”

“You ever hear of lying?”

“Why would you—”

“You really gonna make me live out all of my failures with you?”

You’d read so many things wrong. Taken so many things the wrong way. You figured the email earlier was the final nail in the coffin, but this was something else entirely. This was Bucky, sitting next to you in his car looking distressed and frazzled with his hair six different directions, telling you that he’s been trying to get your attention since he met you. That you weren’t small or insignificant or boring.

It was probably a terrible idea to follow through with your next thought. You’d probably get hurt in the long run. But you did it anyway.

“I wanted you to kiss me.” Bucky’s head whipped towards you. You bit the inside of your cheek and said, “I want you to kiss me all the time.”

He whispered your name. It sounded like the air had left every corner of his body. But he didn’t move, and you needed to rectify that.

“You’re infuriating,” you began. Bucky cringed, but you needed to explain as he had. “You’re like the antithesis of everything I want out of college. You don’t care about classes. You’re always late. You talk too loud in the library.”

You took a deep breath, fiddling with the loose thread of your pants. You couldn’t make eye contact with anything but the ground.

“But then you know my coffee order when I’ve never told it to you. You save me from losers in parking lots and make sure I’m not drunk out of my mind at your obscene party. You make me feel… you make me feel stupid sometimes. And I thought it was because you’re everything I’m not, but I really think it’s because you’re everything I told myself I should stay away from. But I don’t want to.

“I wanted you to kiss me at that party and I want you to kiss me now.”

“Then get over here. I’m not kissing you over some bullshit center console.”

You twisted to follow his directions, gasping as his hands clasped around your waist to tug you into his lap. It wasn’t seamless—there was laughing and your head briefly connected with the roof of the car—but Bucky’s touch was everywhere, soothing the uncertainty and fear and slight headache.

His forehead connected with yours when you felt secure in his arms. His fingers slid down from your waist over the material of your sweatpants and when he spoke next you felt the words on your own lips.

“You’re wearing sweatpants. You get so mad when I wear sweatpants.”

You laughed. “I get mad because it usually means you just rolled out of bed, and you’re usually. late.”

“I got a secret,” he whispered, nudging his nose against yours. “I’m never late. And I only wear those sweatpants around you. You get cute when you’re pissed at me.”

“Well, I’m about to be really cute—”

He kissed you. You’d have plenty of time to argue later.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #college!bucky #bucky barnes reader insert #bucky barnes #college AU #frat!bucky #marvel imagine

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gguk-n · 8 months ago

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Hey so i was listening to boyfriend by Johnny orlando - and i was wondering if you could do a plot where lando just kept the reader around because he likes the idea of her because she is so giving and understanding and like she worships him but he doesn’t find her the most beautiful woman so he is easily distracted and kind of embarrassed to take her out in public and the reader understands it but in a negative way as if she is not enough for him and she leave him but when she does lando understands her importance and he wants to make it right

With a happy ending?! Am i asking too much

You can totally ignore it if you dont like the idea . Much love ♥️

Thanks for the request!! I might've taken some liberties with the request but I've tried to stay as true to it as I could. A lot of angst.

TW- Separation anxiety, panic attack

Girlfriend

The first time Lando met Y/N was at a club, he was celebrating one of Max's wins. The club was crowded and packed to the brim, he had had a couple shots and was nursing a glass of whiskey, he wasn't sure how he ended up with when a girl approached him. She was average, but he didn't mean it in a bad way since he was probably average to most people. She tapped his shoulder to get his attention; "I know this isn't the place people ask people out on a date but will you go out with me?" she asked loudly. Lando was amused by her confidence, "I don't even know your name, sweetheart" he whispered in her ear. A shiver ran down Y/N's back, "I'm Y/N. You're hot and I don't think I would approach you if I was completely sober" she giggled. "Why not?" Lando asked puzzled, ""Sober me isn't this confident" she beamed. "hmm...I think I would like to get to know drunk and sober you" Lando said making the girl smile. She fumbled around in her purse and pulled out her business card which had her name, phone number and email with the company she worked at, at the back. "Here. Call me or text me" she said placing the card in his palm and winking before she left.

Lando thought about it for a couple days, he liked her confidence. So, he texted her. That's how they had started dating. Initially, Y/N didn't know who Lando was; even though Lando had thought she was someone who knew who he was and asked him out. Initially, Lando planned on dating her for a while just because no one had asked him out before. But as days turned into weeks and weeks into months; Lando started to grow dependent on her. Even though Y/N didn't know about Lando's career in the beginning; she knew about Formula One more than most drivers or the FIA combined. She read up on all the races and all the teams and all the drivers. She wanted to make a good impression on all the people who surrounded Lando.

To her, Lando was a beacon of light in dark times. He needed her just like she needed him, at least that's what she thought. Y/N always had separation anxiety and since she started dating Lando, it had grown exponentially and the thought of losing Lando would send her on a downward spiral. Lando had no idea how dependent Y/N had grown to him. To Lando, she was someone he started dating because she asked him out but eventually grew used to having around. He liked the ego boost she gave him, she wouldn't get tired of singing praises about him or bragging about how great Lando was in the 2 years that they had been dating. Lando loved the commodity that came with having a girlfriend that was at your beck and call.

Lando wasn't a very outwardly affectionate person towards Y/N, ever. So, Y/N chalked it up to everyone is different and some people don't like PDA. Sometimes, it irked her. Because, she would notice him being affectionate with his friends but holding her hand was foreign to him. He never went public with her, leaving the people to speculate what was going on between them. Sometimes, the voices in her head would get louder and tell her Lando didn't really love her but he always said he loved her, so those voices were wrong, she told herself.

It was at a McLaren work event, there were a lot of sponsors present. She saw Lando interact with people, her eyes never leaving him or dimming down as they sparkled watching him talk to people. One of the sponsors, a woman a few years older than Lando, left a sour taste in her mouth. Her hands lingered on his for an uncomfortable amount of time but she pushed those thoughts aside and placed herself in between them to ease the tension.

Then at a race weekend, she had decided to ask Carlos to make her some coffee since his coffee always helped with her headache. Carlos was currently talking to Lando near the Ferrari hospitality. She didn't mean to eves drop but she happened to hear the conversation between them; "I mean, she's great and all but some of the models that approach me or some of the celebrities that come to the races, they are gorgeous. Y/N , she's okay. She works a 9 to 5, I don't expect her to be Anne Hathaway or anything" Lando told Carlos. The pounding in Y/N's head had gotten louder, she turned around and headed back to Lando's driver's room.

The way back felt tortuous, her breathing had gotten uneven. She felt it, the last time she had a panic attack was so long ago. Lando gave her so much comfort, she felt so loved always but right now, she felt like nothing made sense. As she closed the door, her breathing was ragged, she had fallen down on the floor on her knees, tears streaming as every voice in her head started chanting; you're not special, look he's bored of you, you're not pretty, who would want you? you're too much, you're too clingy, Lando doesn't love you. Y/N buried her nails in her palms as she tried to shut the voices down. Her head was pounding and her vision had blurred with all the tears running down her face. She crawled up to find a paper and pen. She wiped her tears off and just like she would try to get over her panic attacks before, she started writing on the paper in capital letters. LANDO LOVES ME. LANDO NORRIS LOVES ME. She found herself chanting that as she tried to even out her breathing. After a couple of minutes, the ringing in her ears and the pounding in her head had subsided. The papers lay sprawled on the floor. She pushed herself up on the sofa in the room. It took a while but she was back.

Lando had noticed his girlfriend's absence. Y/N knew she wouldn't be able to sit here for long. She told one of Lando's mechanic's before leaving, not having the heart to face Lando. A few minutes after she boarded a taxi, Lando texted her to get some sleep and that he'd be back after free practice.

Y/N couldn't help but think about all the times Lando wouldn't tell people about her or conveniently forget to introduce her. All those times stuck out to her like a sour thumb. She felt so many emotions and the biggest of them all was anxiety that Lando didn't truly love her. Y/N shut down that day, like she always did whenever things got too difficult. She didn't talk to Lando, saying that she wasn't well or go to the races the entire weekend.

They flew back home together, Y/N was too quite the whole time making Lando uncomfortable with the silence. Back home, she quietly started to clean up the house, trying mustering up courage to talk to Lando about how she had been feeling. But she couldn't really muster up enough courage. Lando could sense something was wrong but whenever he would try to bring it up, she would just brush him off.

A few days of silent treatment on her part and Lando was going mad. "Baby, Y/N, is everything okay?" Lando asked his girlfriend who was sat reading a book. "Yeah" she nodded not even looking up. "You've been acting strange since we came back" he pointed out. Y/N placed the book down and looked at Lando with tears in her eyes, "What happened?" Lando asked cupping her cheeks. "I think we should take a break" she whispered. "Why?" he asked. "I just...I need time. I...I feel like..." she stuttured, "too dependent on you. My separation anxiety is at an all time high, I can't lose you, I'm scared I'll lose you, so, it's better to distance ourselves" she thought but no words left her house. "I need time. I don't think we're right for each other" she finally mustered out. Lando's hands dropped to her side. "You don't mean that?" he stuttured. "Yes I do" she breathed out. "I think I'll leave" she said getting up. "To where?" he asked. "I think I need time for myself Lando" she mumbled as she left to pack her stuff.

Her brain was on autopilot, she packed up her stuff even though she didn't want to. "Bye Lando" she said walking towards the door, "I've always loved you, I don't think I'll ever stop" she thought as she shut the door. Lando was stood there shocked at what had just transpired.

The days after Y/N left, things at Lando's house or for Lando were different. He was quick to feel her absence from the moment he woke up to the moment he fell asleep. Every little thing he did or thought about doing was plagued by Y/N and how she would do it for him.

The next race weekend, Lando couldn't focus. Everyone saw, from the fans to the engineers; everyone saw how Y/N's absence was affecting Lando. It was his dad who sat him down after the race and decided to talk to him, "What's up Lando?" he asked. "Nothing dad" he forced a smile. "I know Y/N not being here is affecting you. Did you two fight?" he prodded. Lando sighed, "Kind of, she said she wants a break" Lando said. "oh, what about you? What do you want?" he questioned. "I....I" he breathed in, "I want her" he told his dad finally. "Than tell her. Talk it out, if you two can't see eye to eye than their's nothing left. But don't regret never having tried" his dad advised. Lando perked up at his dad's words.

Lando was able to contact Y/N soon since she hadn't blocked him anywhere. They planned to meet up at a local cafe, after a lot of insistence on Lando's part.

The day they were gonna meet came, Lando dressed up. He got there early and waited for Y/N to walk in to the cafe. When she did, he couldn't help but smile. But when he tried to hug her, she cut him off. She took the seat opposite to him.

"Hey" Lando broke the silence. Y/N was sat playing with her hands and without looking up, "hi" she replied slowly. "Y/N, can you look at me? I just...I miss you. Please can we talk about this?" he said, "About us" he spoke pointing in between them. She finally looked up, her eyes were teary. "I miss you too" she mumbled. "Than come back. I love you baby" Lando stated. "I don't know Lando. I just feel like maybe we aren't meant to be" she muttered while picking at her skin. "Bullshit, you're the only person who was ever meant for me" Lando stated. "All these days away from you made me realise that. I love you not just because of having you around but because it's you. I need you in my life" Lando explained. "But you could have anyone. Any model, any pretty girl. I just... Lan" she broke down, "I feel like I'm not good enough for you. I've seen you with people and how affectionate you are and than when it comes to me, you're the completely opposite. I feel like I'm not important to you" she sobbed. "No, baby, you are the most important person to me. I'm sorry, I never tried to show it. I was stupid, please give me another chance. Let me show you how much I love you. Please" Lando begged holding on to her hands. "Lando, I'm scared of losing you. I can't always live with the thought of losing you" she explained pulling her hands away. "Let me show you. I'll do better I promise." Lando said determined. "Give me one chance. I won't disappoint you" Lando pleaded. Y/N thought about it; she still loved Lando and she couldn't let him go just yet. So, she nodded. "Thank you. I love you Y/N. I'll do everything to show you how important and loved you are" Lando stated with a big smile and got up from his chair and leaned in to peck her lips. "I love you" he reiterated pulling away. "I love you too" Y/N said finally looking Lando in the eyes.

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zosin-ya · 10 months ago

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Topic 8 - [ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ɪɴᴅᴇx]

Summary: Surviving on instant noodles, you order takeout in the middle of exam prep—what you didn’t expect was your delivery guy to be a ridiculously hot, tattooed biker. Even more surprising? He’s a fellow med student at your university. As good as it sounded, he had a complicated past with an obsessive Ex who starts to target you.

tags.: One Piece, Law x Reader, SFW & NSFW, slow burn romance, Modern AU, Penguin and Shachi as flatmates, fashion-designer uncle Corazon, Laws parents, Laws crazy Ex, Strawhats as your friends (+ Bonney), protective Law, mentioned of his dead sister, also mentions of Laws trauma

a.n.: I pulled this story out of my ass and it’s rather spontaneous how I write the story. If you have ideas, I’m open to them 🖤

status: [ongoing] last updated June 13th 2025

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 1 - ʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴅᴇʟɪᴠᴇʀʏ

An awkward encounter with the handsome delivery guy, who hardly speaks to you, yet somehow makes your heart skip a beat with his pretty face.

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 2 - ɪᴄᴇ ʙʀᴇᴀᴋᴇʀ

Law was at your door once again, this time out of breath and visibly stressed. You offer him something to drink, which sparks a conversation that eventually leads to an exchange of numbers.

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 3 - ꜱᴛᴜᴅʏ ᴅᴀᴛᴇ

At the café, you met up for a study date and saw a more relaxed, yet still exhausted, side of Law. Penguin showed up, clearly curious as to why Law was hanging out with someone from his university—especially since he rarely spent time with those people.

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 4 - ʙᴏʏ ᴛᴀʟᴋ

Penguin couldn't keep his mouth shut about Law meeting you, which led him and Shachi to bombard him with questions. It was just a study date, right? No big deal. His flatmates quickly realized how oblivious he was. Or was he just denying any meaning, trying to protect himself from another crazy relationship.

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 5 - ʟᴀᴛᴇ ɴɪɢʜᴛ ꜰᴜɴ

Law invites you to a party, and after a few drinks, the two of you start to loosen up around each other. So much that the bathroom becomes a short lived make out spot.

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 6 - ʟᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ ʟᴏᴏꜱᴇ (n.sfw)

After you forgot your keys at home and had no where to stay, Law casually offers his apartment for the night without any second intentions. Though the heat from the make out session still lingering in the air.

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 7 - ᴡᴏʀᴛʜ ɪᴛ (n.sfw)

You meet Laws kind-hearted uncle, Rosinante, and learn more about his complex family history. What was supposed to be a casual, cozy game night with Law quickly takes an unexpected and more intimate turn.

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 8 - ᴅᴀɴɢᴇʀᴏᴜꜱ ᴇɴᴄᴏᴜɴᴛᴇʀᴍᴇɴᴛ

A girl you've never met before, starts a chit chat with you during an uni event, you being immediately drawn in by her friendly, outgoing nature. Before you knew it, she invited you to a small party where she hinted you could make some valuable connections. Little did you realize, networking with a biker gang wasn’t exactly what you had in mind for boosting your CV.

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 9 - ᴄʜᴀᴏᴛɪᴄ ɢᴀɴɢ

You dearly needed a girl's night with your friends after all what had happened. Law came to pick you up, yet got dragged into the chaos of a spontaneous party with your friends. Someone save this guy.

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 10 - ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴀʀᴇ ᴡᴇ? n.sfw)

This day should have been special, with you and Law celebrating your academic milestone together with friends and family. Yet, Laws private and closed off personality shots back at him, causing you to break down.

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 11 - ʙᴜʀᴅᴇɴ

It had been weeks since you had talked to Law, feeling drained from the past events. You needed time to figure the relationship out, which caused you to run away from talking completely and be confronted with a storm, none of you were ready to face.

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 12 - ɴᴇᴡ ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴꜱ (n.sfw)

Trying to mend the damage he had caused, Law makes an effort to open up to you this time. He shared pieces of his past, including hobbies he’d long buried. He never anticipated that attending Zoro’s Kendo tournament with you would reignite an old spark within him—or that it would stir a newfound desire to impress you.

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 13 - ᴇɴᴇᴍɪᴇꜱ ᴏʀ ᴀʟʟɪᴇꜱ

Two unexpected intruders—familiar faces no less—show up at your door, shocked to find you inside. Hired to break into what turned out to be the wrong apartment, Kid and Killer aren’t prepared for your defiance. Mustering all the courage you have, you scare them off and waste no time alerting Law, who doesn’t take kindly to their mistake and pays them a visit.

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 14 - ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴏʟ (n.sfw)

You call an emergency meeting with your friends to figure out how to deal with Law’s unhinged ex—who crossed the line by sending two punks to break into your home. The discussion quickly turns chaotic, with no real solution in sight. But amidst the frustration and tension, something shifts. The situation brings out a side of you that no one, not even you, had fully realized before.

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 15 - ꜰʟᴇᴠᴀɴᴄᴇ

It was long overdue for you to properly meet his parents. Nerves were gnawing at you — the last time you’d seen them hadn’t ended well. Now was the time to make amends and finally get to know Law’s hometown.

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onyourhyuck · 1 year ago

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EXCHANGE LESSONS | L.MK

Pairing: mark lee x fem!oc

Summary: You’re the top student in every subject and your classmate!mark asks for your help in science and you offer the unprecedented exchange lessons that leave him off guard.

genre: smut, tutoring, classmates, inexperienced female oc, the concept of virginity being taken (it’s a social construct but you get it) and dominant!mark. minor groping, pussy eating and penetrating sex. Releasing on stomach, unprotected sex (please use a condom irl)

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You’re at the top of the food chain in every subject. Your desolated heart and effortless mind astounds the entire community around you. Since you’re such a smart and passionate individual, people doubt you have any flaws.

But that’s not so true. You do suck at one subject; Sex. Your body and mind leave your soul every moment you tried doing the most remote action like making out — you suck at it.

Perhaps it’s because you’re not comfortable enough with the person? Or maybe the idea of being sexually active is a new concept to you. This puts you at a frustrating disadvantage. You want to experience what it is like to be held by another person, to be worshipped and loved by every curve you have. You really want to experience intimacy. Someone’s hands holding your waist with fingers scrolling circles on your bare skin. Dancing out in heavy rain? Angry makeouts. Jealousy. You want to experience those rollercoasters of emotions. But you can’t because you’re missing the second person. This was no way a one man action.

That was until an opportunity arises. The boy in your class that wasn’t so good at any of his classes, barely scraping by. He had a thick foreign accent - and he never stops boosting about how he’s from Canada. He was visibly attractive. Most girls in your class fancy him.

Mark never really spent his day alone. Ever. There will always be people surrounding him. It’s like this was his world and we’re all just living in it you know?

“Hey Y/n,” A voice strikes up from behind. The boy standing only few inches from your height with a beige cap on backwards. It gave him a real bandboyish look today.

Your eyes dart to him. At first you look visibly confused but you manage to respond with a very soft greet. “Hey what’s up?”

You guys barely talk so this was all very new. The most talks you ever did was a simple ‘good morning’ to each other and never speak again. In fact this felt very awkward on your end.

Mark’s eyes look on the very left end of the lockers. The built tone body wearing these very baggy clothing press up on the metallic doors. Voice trailing off in an obvious direction. “Uhh, you know nothin’ much. The usual you know how it is.”

‘Yikes why does he look suddenly so guilty and suspicious?’ You question in your own mind. What was this strange feeling in your stomach? Like a hollow pit about to explode.

You mumbles quietly. “Right…”

Turning around your locker slams shut. The stuff you needed was carried by your arms. You thought this conversation had ended considering Mark wasn’t spitting out anything he wanted to say but the moment your back had turned on him, the boy quickly leaps in front of your path.

“Wait!” Mark stops you with two hands urgently.

You stop now with a small shock spread on your eyebrows and a visible streak of annoyance in your eyes.

“Tutor me! I want you to tutor me,” Mark said with a little pant to those syllables he stressed out with a stretch. Those hands come down and it really looks like for a moment he was embarrassed to ask. As if he had no idea how to ask you.

That’s all he wanted from you. It was a tutoring lesson so he could boost his grade up. Because lord knows he needs a good number. Otherwise he is finished with this class.

Your eyes line themselves on the boy. “You want me to tutor you?” You repeated back, Mark gave a simple nod. “Why me? You could have asked someone else.”

He furrows those eyebrows. “You seem- cool enough.” Mark then paused and panicked. Your expression seems unhappy by that anticlimactic response. “I mean! Your notes are cool and easy to understand. You explain things well.”

Well that came out wrong, what he wanted to say is you’re cool enough and you’re the smartest in the class. He doesn’t think he ever saw you get a bad grade.

Deep in your heart you couldn’t say no. Mark seems to be desperate for your help and you technically had an alternative motive. As bad as that sounds you can actually imagine losing your first deed to Mark. He was handsome, without a doubt you maybe fantasised getting off to him before. You don’t want to admit it but you did it more than once.

He was the new boy, wild and bright. Radiant and sweet. He was respectful, popular with everyone he hardly has any enemies. No one could hate a guy like Mark. He was a foreign exchange student from Canada and what more, he was an amazing soccer player last year. He won for your school club a trophy. He’s done pretty remarkable things.

Except his classes, which he severely needs your help with.

Sitting down in your bedroom, you constantly glance over to Mark who was sitting on the other end of your bed writing down on his notebook. To which your mind was at a war between asking him if he wants to do something else or if you should leave your stupid idea behind.

You are lost on how to approach the idea to him. You can’t just say ‘Hey let’s sleep together!’ And look like a sane person. Because that’s the opposite of normal. You barely know the guy too.

Your body lifts up your sweater and you nervously laugh it off. “Ahh it’s so hot, right? I should take this off.” Your hands pull off the warm fabric off your limbs and Mark looks up from his notes to glance at you. He looks at you for good three seconds.

The good look on your visible black tank top and cleavage exposing caught his eye but not enough for him to grasp your intentions. Instead Mark continues his work like the champ he was. Unbothered and gullible.

“Yeah? I feel normal.” Mark relies obliviously. You furrow your eyebrows and feel your stomach clench. Why was it so hard to ask Mark to have sex with you? It’s like the most difficult question for you.

And you never struggled with math questions before. You can’t believe it. Why was a simple risky move harder than school work.

He went back to doing his work. Thankfully you’re an amazing tutor so far your explanations did wonders for Mark. But you’re sat there staring at him with your eyes gawking.

You’re like an eagle pouncing, but you’re hesitant at the same time.

The boy did take notice of your stares and very acknowledged presence. But he didn’t know why and he doesn’t quite want to ask you, because what if that makes you pressured and embarrassed? Mark felt however very watched. Every movement of his pen. Every step of his breathing he makes on the same bed you’re sitting with him on.

It felt discomforting almost?

You clear your voice. “Mark have you ever had…” you pause because you’re suddenly getting to know how intrusive you are being. The boy’s head lifts up and he waits for you to finish.

“Have you ever had sex?” You begin again. You bite on your inner cheek which starts to make Mark flustered. From such a smart and disciplined girl you really have a way of starting conversations.

Mark nodded. “Yeah. Did you?”

Even if it was an inappropriate comment, Mark didn’t lie about it and he answered you truthfully. The boy didn’t know what to say at first. But what’s the harm in saying yes?

You don’t reply and you move a little closer to Mark holding your knees against your chest. Wearing shorts came in handy because Mark can see a full outline of your beautiful legs.

“What was your first time like?” You ask without answering him. Mark raised up his eyebrow thinking to himself. “Uhh,” he sits up on the mattress.

Mark brushed the pen down on the notebook. “I think it was with my girlfriend at the time.” You fully expected him to say some chick at the party but knowing his ex girlfriend was his first time, made this somehow really sweet and romantic.

Mark mumbles. “But what was your like?”

Your lips fell in a thin line. In an embarrassing way you turn away your gaze when your reply hits the taller quick.

“Mark I am a virgin,” You said it with a moment of clarity. He wasn’t sure why you’re still a virgin when you’re decently attractive and hella smart.

It somehow doesn’t make any sense.

Mark’s mouth drops like an umbrella sheet. “No way.” And you nod to show its the truth. Mark laughs a bit not in a mocking way but in a sense of disbelief to lighten up your mood.

He could tell you’re almost ashamed but he didn’t think that’s anything to be ashamed of. In any case he wonders if that’s a positive more than a con.

“Hey Y/n that’s not a bad thing you know that right?” He nudges your arms with his elbow with a smile.

You sigh a little. “I know but I want to experience it. I don’t really care about my virginity that much.”

“So how come you’re still a virgin? You’re pretty and smart.” Mark chuckles, he didn’t quite understand it. If you wanted to lose your virginity card so badly how come you still have it?

Your eyes look at him, your chance to tell him how clueless you are when it comes to sex arises. A part of you don’t want to tell him you’re bad at sex because that’s really embarrassingly stupid. Or the fact that you have no idea how to do anything. You can’t even figure out how kissing goddamn works!

You swallow down your own emotions. “I have no idea how to have sex.”

Moments later your eyes have glued together in what seems to be a staring competition. Mark didn’t think you’d be completely clueless. It came so naturally to him when he was about to do it for the first time. To you this was like a big deal.

Mark comes forward mumbling nervously. “You don’t know how to kiss either?” You shake your head a no.

The boy was silent until his eyes fell down to your lips. They look pretty, they seem very red and plum. He couldn’t grasp it but the guts clench in a sudden contraction.

“Do you want me to teach you?” Mark starts to ask you. Your face fell to the ground or it rather feels like it. He read your mind.

He was so nervous about it, he didn’t want to come off like a freaking creep to you. Little does he know you were begging for this offer.

He trails. “You know — like exchange lessons? You helped me with science and I can help with sex lessons.”

That doesn’t sound too bad to you. The deal was appealing. Your eyes sparkle up and come forward to kiss his lips. When you did the first gesture this said a lot to the boy before you. You were agreeing. You didn’t back away, your eyes were glowing at the idea of him teaching you what to do during sexual encounters. And thus, he opens his mouth slipping in slowly his tongue. Caressing your soft untouched mouth was like a dream come true. You were like melting ice the moment your mouth felt the warmth of the salivas mixing in as one. The kiss was slow at the beginning but occasionally you got the hang of the pace and Mark decided to spice it up.

He had to spice it up for you. Mark wanted to show you how it really is. What it really awaits you. The kiss springs from the bottom, a sudden piercing movement shocks you causing your moans to fall off.

Did he just bite your bottom lip? He smirks at your reaction and pulls you down on the bed. Hovering above your lean shoulders those grabby hands touch on your waist to position you a little downwards to his liking.

Mark kissed your neck, your jawline, down the side to your ears and your shoulders once your top slips off leaving you in your bra.

Your bra was a pretty blue colour. Mark smiles at your chest in slight adoration. Your eyes took a glimpse of his eyes and his lips have small kisses to your chest, to the cleavage. In between your breasts he brushed his face into the softness of your pillows.

“You know I’m surprised you’re a virgin.” He begins quietly, travelling his mouth down to your stomach till your navel touches.

Your feet curl up. This was somehow nerve wrecking but it feels good? But it’s so slow and it’s like he’s bringing you to rest.

“Why?” You ask out quietly.

Mark mumbles when his fingers reach the very entrance of your panty lining. He stops at your abdomen monitoring the shorts he took off. Your panty matches the colour to your lovely bra. You feel so warm between the flat stomach, his fingers slip your panties down to your legs half way.

Eyes look up to see your face. “You strike me as someone who knows everything.” He might be right. You come across as reliable person.

But you don’t know everything unfortunately, you’re only human and you doubt that Mark knows absolutely everything too. You smile shyly and close your thighs together.

This was embarrassing. You never really went further than kissing someone badly before. He could see everything but the moment your legs shut him off Mark gave a small nudge with his hands to pull your thighs apart gently.

“No hiding Y/n come on? Open up for me.”

Your hands cover your face as your legs open up like two doors. Mark smiles in awe but you couldn’t see that. The boy kissed your entrance, like a peck to the lips until those same lips kiss the inner thighs. He loved seeing your legs trembling from nothing but nervousness.

You really are a small ball of wreck.

He quietly says. “You’re pretty down there why are you so worried?”

He didn’t quite understand what was making you this anxious and you shudder when his tongue does kitten lick motions to your pussy. You’re unable to make any sense of what just happened, but all you know is that this feels too good to stop.

Tongue traps at your nub flicking his motions in left and right directions: your pelvis subtly lifts off the bed to roll back. Mark hums against your entrance, he was devouring you as if it’s his first time too. It feels too good for you and that’s what’s making him get off the whole idea: You feeling good.

His tongue went inside your small hole giving it a few thrusts of his tongue. His nose pressed right against your clit. Your burning hot skin flushes his face and your thighs squeeze when your stomach clenches so tightly. Without a warning you slip into oblivion.

Mumbling out highly. “Fuckfuckfuck m’gonna cum.”

Striving to give you the best orgasm of your life, Mark feverishly sucks on your edging pearl, your clit was practically swollen and this pushed you right off the edge just as he wanted you to. He was watching up at you from down there seeing your spine arch and your moans hit the back of your throat, so hoarse and sore. The way your eyes shut and your hands grip at anything nearby: the bed sheets, your breasts, his thick hair.

Pulling out of your wet slimey pussy from all the coating of saliva. You take a deep breath, Mark positions him above you he saw your bright reddish cheeks and your sparkling wet eyes. You look beautiful like this.

He whispers. “Do you still want to continue?”

Your mind was a fog but you never hesitated to reply to your classmate. “Yes, please.”

It’s definitely a sight to see. You’re being so adamant about it. Mark leans down and pulls down his rock solid crotch out. Those jeans slipped off and it leaves an ugly feeling when you’re hard in jeans.

It feels like a big weight lifted from him when it comes off. The boy sits back and gave you a glance as if he is telling you to come forward.

“Do you want to take the boxers off?” You heard him ask you. Your eyes light up and with your small hands pulling off his boxers. Mark gave you a dark gaze when his large cock springs up against his stomach. Your mouth waters just looking at it.

Your stomach made a small butterfly clutch too. You look at him in panic. “Whoa wait, will that fit?” You sound so dumbfounded. But Mark grinned and he rubs your thighs reassuringly.

“It can, it will. Trust me on this I’m the teacher here.”

He was right he was the teacher here and you’re just a mere helpless virgin. You lay down on the bed sheets when Mark moves on top of you his hard tip had to do a few teasing streaks on your entrance. You were anticipating him to just ram it in — but he wasn’t.

You were just impatient and Mark was a very patient guy who didn’t want to rush a process like this. At least for now he doesn’t have anywhere to be, what’s the rush right?

The tip was pushed out and back in, it was like a car reverse and driving forward. Your entrance was locked tight so Mark wants to stretch you out with just the tip. He had a feeling he might have to use two fingers before anything else is to happen. The boy pressed his thumb and rubs your clit. You mumble out a whine, and then his singular finger goes inside you just to do a little stretch here and there. The second finger was when it starts to feel too good for you. Your eyes shut and your voice starts to feel good.

He made his hand shake a little and then come out. Only for his tip to slip in fully in you and then gradually expand his shaft inside your pussy. You feel good, Mark was addicted to the feeling of his cock buried in your velvety new walls.

He grunts, his breath shaking. “Ah fuck Y/n, you feel better than i thought you would.”

It took every ounce of his body not to rut against you like a wild fucking beast, Mark moves up against your stomach. Your hands tremble upwards to hold his forearms.

“Mh! Fuck, it kind of hurts.” Your voice murmurs and the boy had his attention all on you. He was watching only your face when his body did the moving thing. When you told him it kind of hurts, Mark had a feeling the pain will turn to pleasure soon for you. All he could do was give a small ‘shh’ and a kiss on the forehead for you.

You’re kind of glad Mark is your first. He seems to be gentle and loving enough for this. If it was anyone else you don’t think they would be as supportive as he was to you.

A simple kiss on the forehead made your worries disappear. And you let him rut against your pussy that squelches on his shape, taking every single inch of his cock until he was balls deep.

He was right, the pain did turn to pleasure real soon.

He brushed some of your hair back from your face as his thrusts connect to his pivoting muscles and hips. Mark admires your honesty expressions too, he couldn’t help himself. You were pretty even in this state.

The boy brushed down your jawline, he leans to capture a kiss on your lips. Your voice slips off like a breathy breeze. “Mark — feels too good.”

He smiles down at you. “I know,”

Your thighs wrap themselves on his waist and that brought him deeper in a whole new position when he is pushing in your loving arms. And then you feel a strong urge in the stomach, something that’s about to explode.

Your eyebrow ends connect, furrowing. “M’think I’m gonna cum…”

You didn’t exactly know but the feeling was so intense it overlaps your hearing and your brain goes back moments later after the surging sensation washes over you.

Mark feels you cumming right on his cock, he grits his teeth together jawline attached with his remaining strength.

“Me too, I’m close, hold on.” He mumbles lowly until he fucks himself just enough to pull out of you and then flick his wrist down the shaft to paint you of his cum on your bare stomach.

Deeply breathing the boy pulls back on the bed, you achingly sit up with a small groan. You never felt your body become this sore.

Your eyes watch Mark as the boy brushed back his hair with his hand. You both look like visible messes. Sweating and panting.

Your lips curve into a small smile. “So, do you need help with anything else in your classes?”

Mark gave a visible chuckle somehow it feels like you’re going to be more of a distraction when you’re going to tutor him than he likes to believe.

“Uhh, let’s see.” He replies, looking at the studying materials you guys left unattended on the floor. Scattered is the right word more like.

“I think I prefer to Exchange Lessons.” He admits, causing you to chuckle.

Mark thinks you do too, considering you’re not disagreeing.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

@onyourhyuck please refer from translating copyrighting and plagiarising my work thank you!! Follow my blog for more and reblog it helps a girl out<3 ily

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nemisuki · 3 months ago

Text

𐔌 ✧.* ʜᴀʟꜰ ᴛɪᴍᴇ .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ || You're only allowed to wear his shirts during the games!

᧔o᧓ || katsuki bakugo x f!reader, she/her pronouns, pure fluff, no smut or angst, oneshot, third years, crush au, flustered reader, jealous bkg, sports romance, acts of service, he’s just a lil guy, 817 word count

Her body instinctively tenses up as Bakugo does a double take — already seeming to notice her shirt of choice — a jersey with bright bold letters and their school logo.

Only spelling out a name that wasn't his — the familiar number of his teammate on her back — symbols that had him completely dumbfounded.

In a matter of seconds, the blonde walks up beside her — jaw clenched and piercing eyes glaring down at her smaller frame — both at her and the taunting words on the jersey.

He tries shrugging off her curious stare, choosing to act aloof, hesitantly grabbing the plastic bottle from her hands.

Twisting it open and bringing the beverage to his lips, the words exiting his mouth before he could think.

"why the fuck are you wearing that?"

He didn't even attempt to hide the distaste in his tone.

Chugging the cold water while looking around the court — distracting himself from the bubbling rage coursing through his veins — trying to steer his attention on the game.

Yeah the game... totally not restraining himself from walking towards his teammate to give him a piece of his mind.

Totally calm.

"Ah— this? My shirt got ruined earlier so he let me borrow a spare jersey of his..."

She mumbles awkwardly, hesitantly looking at his side profile — obviously noticing his sudden bad mood — but choosing not to comment on it.

It’s been quite some time since she became the manager of their team.

And to be fair, the blonde was notorious for his grumpy demeanor, yet she couldn’t understand the current frown on his face.

They're team is winning after all, he would usually be more overconfident and positive right about now.

"Tch, so you asked for his help and not mine?"

Her eyes slightly widened, the emphasis on those two words making her thoughts jumble up with many possibilities.

But only one made sense to her — the realization making her cheeks warm up, pulse skyrocketing at the conclusion — a glimmer of hope beginning to form in the pit of her stomach.

He seems to understand the underlying meaning behind his words — the unspoken confession of jealousy and something more — causing his ears to flush, a sight that makes her expression match his.

It was hard to avoid the idea of her standing with another guy's clothes.

His jaw ticks as he gives her another once over.

"So fucking annoying..."

The blonde is quick to open his bag, searching around for something — and likely to avoid eye contact — before tossing it at her, y/n fumbling to grab the mysterious item.

Only to catch a shirt in her hands or more specifically… one of his jerseys.

"what is—"

"Take that shit off, mine is better anyways... dumbass."

She fidgets with the soft fabric beneath her fingers — the smell of his cologne filling her nostrils — warmth filling both her body and heart.

Nodding silently as she prepares to leave for the bathroom — wanting to hide her flustered self — but pausing when he grasps her hand.

The feeling is unfamiliar yet... she could relish it in.

She turns her head.

His stern gaze meets hers as he grumbles — in the midst of the deafening gymnasium — though she could still hear it, as if her mind could only focus on one thing.

"And next time, just ask me okay? Psh... what? You think those extras are better than me or something?!"

Katsuki gives her a challenging look, to which she quickly shakes her head to deny such thoughts.

"What— no! not at all!"

He continues staring at her for a few seconds — analyzing her words, and finding nothing but honesty — and that seems to earn his approval.

Or perhaps boost his ego.

"Hmph, that's what I thought."

A moment of silence passes by until a shy smile breaks out on her face, his brows slightly furrowing in response — trying to ignore his quickening pulse from the sight — scoffing as she holds his jersey closer to her chest.

Seriously this girl...

"What is it now, idiot?"

"N-Nothing... I was just wondering— well—"

"Well?"

"Um Bakugo… are you—”

The way she avoids staring at him, was telling to say the least, his eye twitching as she squirms around anxiously.

"Just spit it out, damn it!"

"Are you... gonna let go or...?"

His eyes widened at the realization, quickly retracting his hand from hers — cursing himself as he felt heat rise to his cheeks — trying to keep it impassive while clearing his throat.

Trying to hide the way his body tenses with embarrassment as she bursts out giggling.

It's safe to say the opposing team had a real shock when they saw the infamous blonde return to the court all red faced, only to end the game in a matter of minutes in a frenzy and new found determination.

And the reason behind it?

Seeing her in the stands with his jersey, cheering him on.

✦ ⎯⎯⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨ masterlist || taglist || intro || socials ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⎯⎯ ✦

ᴀ/ɴ ||| this is actually so embarrassing bc the fic accidentally posted at 6 instead of 8 (my regular posting time) but thankfully i took it down before lots of ppl read it... awkward #epicfail #imforevergonnabeparanoid #sendhelp ɴᴇxᴛ ꜰɪᴄ ||| katsuki bakugo x f!reader (fluff, smut [?]) ᴛᴀɢꜱ ||| @leleyro @zaiban2989 @qyuin ໒꒰ྀི ´๑ ̫๑` ꒱ྀིა

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qqueenofhades · 1 year ago

Note

I think the Aaron Sorkin fic people are writing about the convention to be extremely silly. It's going to be Biden. And if Biden's health takes a downturn and he feels the need to step down its going tk be Harris. This fantasy where we skip over her to whip up two random white guys(or like maaaybe Witmer) and somehow cruise to victory instead of fragmenting the party months before the election is simply not going to happen.

Look, I'm just saying, I got an email from the Biden campaign this morning where they seemed pretty darn happy with the actual (i.e. not-bloviating media) results of the debate: $38 million raised in 4 days ($30 million from individual small-dollar donors), 10K new volunteers in a week, 3x surge in campaign volunteers for battleground states, essentially no change or even a modest boost in the polls. So I think at this point, we can cautiously conclude the following things:

The debate looked bad for Biden, perhaps, but doesn't seem to have hurt him nearly as much the incredibly bad-faith BIDEN NEEDS TO STEP DOWN NOW takes being pumped out by the NYT and its other compatriots would suggest. Especially when these same media outlets have been gleefully sabotaging Biden at every turn for years already and whose fake-sanctimonious hand-wringing "for the good of the nation" pieces honestly should get them dropped into Superhell for Bad Journalists;

Biden went to Raleigh NC right after the debate and gave a fiery rally speech that was very well received. Now, I don't know why we didn't have that Biden at the debate, but it was the same night and there clearly was not any "cOgnItiVe dEcLinE" happening there (also Biden has a stutter and has for literally his entire life, and had a cold on debate night, so it was just an unfortunate confluence of factors)

There are very few actually undecided voters in this election (once again: HOW???) and those who tuned into the debate were largely already convinced of which candidate they were voting for and this didn't do much to change their minds. Just like, you know, pretty much every other debate in the history of presidential elections.

Ordinary voters, and not mainstream media outlets with BIDEN IZ BAD goggles clamped over their eyes, were able to see Trump's insane Gish gallops, lies, and full-blown dementia; this isn't going to get any better for him when he's already lost 20%-25% of GOP voters in every state primary and still is going to be sentenced in his criminal trial;

The D.C. political elite screaming about how Biden should step down (FOUR MONTHS BEFORE THE ELECTION) and leave the Democrats to start from scratch with some Star Chamber-selected candidate with no money and no incumbency record and no organization apparatus and a divided party are either fucking weapons grade morons or working secretly for Trump, because that IS in fact the best way to lose the election;

Such speculation seems to fall chiefly on Gavin Newsom, who (to his credit) has shut down any and all suggestion that he should try to step in and take the place of an incumbent who has won every state primary with 90% or more, because he's remotely sane and understands that this year is too important to fuck around with;

I've somehow never seen any suggestion that Biden should step aside for the duly elected (brown, female) Vice President, because everyone seems to think some Young Miraculous White Guy is coming and/or should step in;

All this while SCOTUS is clearly so confident of Trump getting back in that it's willing to grant him Absolute God King status pre- and post-emptively;

Yes, Biden needs to up his game before the next debate (though that's on Fox News iirc, blargh), but I think it's far enough post-debate that we can say it was bad but did not sink him, and if anything, reinforced the fact to many ordinary, non-brainwormed voters that Biden is old (which has been the number one chief theme of news coverage for four years and is no surprise to anyone) but is a decent and principled man doing a good job, while Trump is an absolute gibbering insane orange shitmonger fascist. I don't think he did himself any favors in that regard.

....anyway. The point is, do not be fucking insane people, Biden is not going to step down and frankly shouldn't, don't read the NYT (as noted, they've openly admitted to sabotaging him for personal ego reasons so I don't know why the hell anyone would listen to what they have to say about him), this is still an eminently winnable election, and let's go get those motherfucking fascists. I want Trump in jail and all of SCOTUS and the MAGAGOP fucking crying over it because they fucking suck. Let's go.

#anonymous #ask #politics for ts #vote and get off my lawn

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rezitio · 6 months ago

Text

"𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐍'𝐓 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐘𝐀𝐋𝐄" gojo satoru

smut. series masterlist

leak: You find yourself in Gojo's bed again

genre: post-high school series, college sex, plaything, smart!rr, realistic college fuckboy (You're just a plaything), messy org, p in v, dacryphillia, gojo is high, sweet talk

artist: gojo satoru

━━━━━━

All your senses are dulled; that smart brain that was always at work, either running that sharp mouth or your honour roll grades, has gone blank.

But you're not spaced out either. You wish you could be, but each thrust brings you right back to the present. The pleasure you’re feeling down there won’t allow you to even dream of being anywhere other than the reality of Gojo Satoru’s bed being pounded into.

But who are you to complain? You called for this. Blowing up his phone with shit like ‘I need you’ when his other girl is right next to him. He was so close to blocking your number if you kept flooding his DMs.

But all it took was one nude to get this man to blow off the other girl and invite you over. You’re lucky, you tell yourself.

So lucky that fuckboy Gojo has a liking for your body. The boy who all he does is lead and everyone cheers.

He’s calling you to his bed of all places. For all his other hoes, it's either their house or another room in his mega mansion; the university calls a dorm. You’d like to think it makes you special. You’re not.

He’s digging you deep into the mattress with each thrust. Your eyes dart across the room; it's all you can do other than yell. The room was dark; the only light around was the blue LED strips hidden by the ceiling designs, matching his eyes.

The whites in his eyes had turned a light red. Contrast to your sober ones. That should have been your first sign, but from ignoring red eyes to red flags, warnings have never been your strong suit.

Your clothes and his mixed on the floor, the purple liquid on the nightstand that got knocked down somewhere in between the time you still had energy to squirm around was still dripping onto the expensive carpet.

Gojo didn’t care; he had enough money to buy another one. Right next to the cup of lean was his firearm. You don't know what happened to him during his teen years that made him turn out like this, but those who knew him when he was in his senior years all say it was inevitable for him and his group.

The lights were all so pretty. Illuminating behind the design of the ceiling. You wanted to get a better look at it, gently raising your head to look up, only for it to roughly be pushed back down.

Just like that, you were brought back to the reality of things: how deep he was in you, how loudly you were screaming. His dick was ravaging you at a constant rhythm. It was hitting that spot repeatedly with each thrust. And his dick wouldn’t even leave your warmth for a second, keeping you filled up.

A drop of salty water finds a way to your mouth. That's when you notice a pool of wet cloth around your face. You had been crying for a while now, although you’re now noticing it Gojo’s been staring at it for a while, but he didn’t care to slow down. In fact, it gave him an ego boost.

You’re crying yet at the same time begging him not to stop; how pathetic could you be? Tired of the noise, his digits find a way into your mouth. You know what he wants you to do; you suck on them, muffling your sounds. In other words, you shut up.

It was working for a while. He could deal with the vibrations on his fingers masking your loud moans until he felt himself getting close. He could care less about the progress he was making and quickened his pace chasing the release.

Trying to keep your sound in, you bite down on his fingers. He didn't mind; all his other sensations dulled down and focused on his cock. He could feel his body teasing him, electric currents rushing from his sacks through to his length, then dancing at his tip as more electricity piles on his tip.

God, he loved your body so much. It was like it was in perfect sync with his. Your lower body started shaking on his dick; the screams were slipping out; you were also close.

Your fingers reached for the hand binding them, digging your nails into his skin. “Toru…” You yelped out, but he already knew; a little bit of your white liquid was already running down his thigh. You were doing such a bad job of holding your orgasm.

“Cum on me, baby.” He commanded his hand, left your hands, and began to work on your clit as you released. All his self-confidence decimated as he felt his own orgasm rushing out and had no control over it. He was no better than you.

He pulled out, and your cream blew over his thigh; he didn't have time to mind it, though. His finger in your mouth pulled your head back quickly, rushing to release in your mouth. But he barely had control over the pleasure you made him feel.

The little squirter almost missed your mouth, causing part of his walls and the side of your face to be painted in the same liquid that was now rushing down your throat. He sandwiched your head between the mattress and his dick, enjoying the vibration of your gags and gurgles.

“Sh... struggle with me...” He lowly whispered as if he wasn't suffocating you. God, he hated how messy you were and how messy and stimulated you made him.

im currently writing a nanami fiction, so buckle up for that 😛

kodaswrld for banner

#꒰꒰ : REZITIOWORKS #jjk #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #Spotify #jujutsu high #song smut #smut inspired by song #yale ken carson

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urhoneycombwitch · 1 year ago

Text

just thinking of artist!eddie x muse!reader meet cute. cw reader dresses femme in this

“um… excuse me? pardon me. you can’t be touching that.”

Eddie spins to see someone walking across the room towards him (a very hot someone. in clicky heels and a tight black skirt that shows off a gorgeous slip of thigh.)

holding a clipboard against one waist, you point at him with your work-supplied ballpoint pen, sounding lightly flustered but firm all the same- “sorry, it’s just- you can’t touch the art. I know there’s no red rope around here, but not touching the artwork at a gallery, that’s kinda… just courtesy.”

Eddie takes his hand from the now-straightened framed photograph, then spreads his hands in a placating gesture, sheepish and charming smile fixed on you. “sorry-“ his eyes flick down to your name badge, and he says your name in that husky voice, “-must’ve gotten mixed up, thought this was the petting zoo area.”

You snort, intending to let him off the hook with just a warning. then you tap your pen against your clipboard, trying to maintain a professional composure without drooling.

flicking up and down his frame, you take in the tight black ripped jeans, black vine tattoos curling out from a cut-off tank, over the milky expanse of his broad shoulders, alongside the veins running up and down his forearms. smattered with hair.

Eddie’s looking at you the same way. like he’s hungry. the attention calls to you, makes your spine perk up, a little flare of excitement kicking at your heart rate.

you take the bait. turn to the wall of art, point at one of the other frames just to fill the charged silence. “so! um. do you like this body of work? I think it’s the best in the series so far.”

Eddie crosses his arms, gives you a look that you can’t quite decipher- amusement? suspicion? hard to say. you’re tracing the ridge of his ear with your gaze, sunlight streaming through the main entrance windows glinting off the multitude of rings nestled there.

under your attention, Eddie’s preening, and also hoping you keep talking to him as long as possible so he can memorize the way your tits look in that blouse and paint ‘em from memory (😵‍💫) “fancy yourself an art critic? go on, sweetheart- I’d love to hear your take.”

and those doey eyes almost drive you to distraction !!! but you give a very genuine review of Eddie’s newest work (having no idea you’re flattering the artist in person), and he’s smiling by the end of your impassioned response.

“wow. sounds like you really like this artist.”

“I really do!”

“…and if this artist asked you for your number, you’d say yes, right? ‘cuz you like him so much?”

and he’s got that same sweet and silly smile from earlier, eyebrows raised. and when you realize, you’re mortified. bringing up the clipboard in front of your face to hide like “oh my god. you’re Eddie Munson. the artist. and I yelled at you for touching your own art!! why did you let me do that!!”

he laughs, hand over his heart, earnest- “no, don’t apologize! it was a huge ego boost for me, didn’t know they’d have such a beautiful personal bodyguard for my stuff. you gotta let me take you out for a drink as thanks for your service.”

and he does this dorky off balance bow low to the ground and you’re looking over the top of your board giggling. his humor is just your type and you fall for each other before round two of drinks after your shift that night (and fall into each others BEDS. ayooooo.)

#idk what this is #too high to function 😇#Eddie Munson #eddie munson x reader #artist!eddie munson #artist!eddie #Eddie Munson x you #tw weed

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p1eceandharmon1 · 2 months ago

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second chances ┊ soul (p1harmony)

warnings: none ┊ fluff! ┊ gn!reader ┊ word count: 1567

ੈ♡˳ - requested! how you met and got together

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Back in high school, it was rare that you got less than an A in your exams, and you were known as the person everyone could turn to for academic help. You didn’t mind giving a hand at all, and everyone admired you not only for your intelligence but also for your kindness. You could say you had a really good friendship with the majority of your classmates — they were always so grateful when their grades improved thanks to your help. But there was one boy who hadn’t spoken to you not even once, even though his grades weren’t the best. Shota was a quiet guy, very shy when he wasn’t around his friends but really chatty when he was comfortable, as you had noticed. You knew he was a prodigy when it came to dancing, which made him even more intriguing to you, and you kinda wished he approached you someday. Little did you know, that day was closer than you thought.

He was failing in English, and it was almost the end of the scholar year, which meant he needed to pass the final exam to graduate, and also that he had to overcome his shyness to go talk to you. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to get close to you, but he had to admit he had developed a little crush on you — nobody could blame him, though. You were intelligent, friendly, cheerful and pretty, but still you were so humble. Why would you pay attention to him, he thought, when you were absolutely perfect in his eyes? But he really needed to pass English, so he had no choice but to ask for your help.

Of course, there was no way you could have said no to him when he came to you after class, when you were still gathering your things to go home, and he asked you in a quiet voice if you were free that afternoon to help him study. You spent a whole week meeting every single day at the library, and it surprised you both how quickly you had got comfortable around one another, to the point the two of you were always looking forward to those study sessions. You got to know more about each other, which caused him to fall harder, if that was even possible, and you to develop a crush on the shy cute guy from your class. Shota ended up passing his exam with an A, which gave both of you a boost of happiness but it also made you sad, because you didn’t have an excuse to meet daily anymore.

Before you could notice, graduation day came, filled with overflowing joy and hope for the future but also with a melancholic feeling of saying goodbye to your childhood friends. Everyone had different plans for the future, including Shota. As far as you knew, he was flying to Korea to follow his dream of becoming a K-Pop idol, a choice you supported but was also the reason why you hadn’t confessed your feelings to him — you didn’t want him to give up that goal just because you wanted him to stay. On the other hand, Shota also wasn’t willing to overwhelm you with his confession. He knew you wanted to go to college and that you had worked really hard to do that, so he decided to keep his feelings to himself instead of confusing you, when you should be focused on starting this new era of your life. And so, your last chance of letting the other know your true feelings went by in the blink of an eye. You never got the chance of exchanging numbers, so when you two parted, you lost all contact. But that didn’t mean you forgot each other completely.

A year later.

After graduating, you applied to several Korean universities, which had a much more appealing academic program; and, not long after sending your application, you were notified that you had been accepted into one of your dream universities. Since then, you had been living by your own, studying and working nonstop but, overall, pretty content with the life you were building.

One specific spring night, you had just finished your last evening class of the day. It was already dark when you were making your way through the streets of Seoul, eager to get home. However, you had to make a quick stop at the convenience store to buy some groceries you needed for the rest of the week. You entered the establishment, which would have been empty if it weren’t for a tall boy dressed all in black, and whose face you didn’t get to see.

You went through the aisles, grabbing what you needed from here and there, until you turned a corner and were face to face with the guy from before — you almost dropped everything you were holding. You two recognized each other almost instantly but you couldn’t quite believe your own eyes. After all, the last thing you expected was to run into Shota, your high school crush, right there and then.

“Hey,” he was the first to talk, his eyes widening a bit due to the surprise. “Is it really you?”, you asked, unable to take your eyes off him. Your question made him laugh a bit. “It is really me. What are you doing here?”, his heart was beating fast, just like when he was in high school — he had missed how it felt. “It’s kind of a long story”, you replied. “I have time. I was just about to take a little walk. Do you maybe wanna join me?”, he asked, a bit unsure. “I could walk you home, if you want. It’s dark outside”, he added, his voice soft. “Sure”, you said and paid for your things before walking out of the store.

You were walking beside him when you felt his hand reaching for the bag you were holding. He carried it for you without saying a thing, and you smiled at the gesture. “So, what brings you here?”, he asked and you turned your gaze at him. You noticed he had grown a bit taller since last time. “School. I got into college here”. He smiled to himself. “Of course you did. You were the smartest person at school”. You blushed at his comment. “I wasn’t… But thank you for the compliment. And what about you? How are you doing?”.

“Pretty well, actually. I’m in a group and we’re gaining some more popularity now”, he said proudly. “I’m glad to hear that. It was your dream”, you were genuinely happy for him, knowing how hard he had worked all these years. “Yeah, I’m pretty satisfied but… I miss home sometimes”, he confessed in a quiet voice. “I know what you mean. It’s normal”. You continued catching up, warming up to one another like you did in school, and feeling butterflies in a way you thought you were never gonna feel again.

“This is my dorm,” you said, a little sad that your walk was going to end. You took the bag from him, your fingers slightly brushing against each other. “Thanks for walking me home. It was so nice to see you again”. “And you too”, he looked like he was about to add something else but changed his mind. You took this as a sign to wave him goodbye and turn to the door of the building.

“Wait!”, you heard him call so you turned around to face him once again. “There’s one thing that I’ve been thinking about since I left, something that I regret every day. I know I should’ve said this back then, but now that I have another chance I need to tell you this”. You furrowed your brows in confusion, taking one step closer to him as you felt your heart beating like crazy.

“You’ve been in my mind since high school and even after all this time my feelings for you haven’t changed a bit. I was so afraid to tell you I liked you, but now that I have you in front of me, I can’t walk away like a coward. Not again”, he took a deep breath, almost like he had finally got rid of a heavy weight.

You were speechless, so the only thing you could do was place the bag of groceries down and wrap your arms around him. Shota got a bit startled at first, but it didn’t take him long to return the hug and relax in your embrace. “I didn’t know you felt that way,” your voice was partly muffled as you were resting your head on his shoulder. “If I had known, I would’ve confessed right away, because I felt the same. I still do”.

He pulled back to look at your face. “Really?” his smile was wide at this point. You just nodded, biting back the silly smile that was also making its appearance on your lips. “Then let’s do this right this time. Would you want to go on a date with me?”.

You took a moment before replying. “I know a place. Pick me up at 7 tomorrow, you know where I live”, you quickly kissed his cheek, picked up the bag and went into your building. You turned around to wave him goodbye from inside, only to find him grinning and blushing like crazy.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

#p1harmony #p1harmony x reader #p1harmony imagines #p1harmony scenarios #p1harmony fluff #p1harmony reactions #soul x reader

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hungwy · 2 months ago

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a little essay on how i understand photography exposure to work because. like. itll force me to conceptualize more clearly. you get it

three stages: aperture, shutter, sensor

there is an order to how cameras experience light: aperture -> shutter -> sensor. in terms of clarity, each of these settings have settings.

aperture

the aperture controls the clarity of image by controlling the angle of how light enters the lens (measured in "f-stops": low f-stop = wide aperture and vice versa). light entering the lens indirectly (not going straight into the sensor) bounces around, producing what you see as depth of field. restricting the aperture makes the angle of entry for light more acute, and so light cannot enter as indirectly, thus sending more light straight to the sensor without any diffusion. this restriction however literally reduces the amount of light that can enter the lens, and so the tradeoff of full-image clarity is low luminosity.

shutter

the shutter determines the amount of light the sensor is exposed to over time (measured in fractions of a second). mechanical shutters block most of the sensor from light, only allowing a sliver of light between the blades in as the shutter scrolls across sensor; electronic shutters simply turn the sensor on for however long its supposed to. a fast shutter speed only lets a single moment in at the cost of a less light reaching the sensor (darker images), while a slow shutter speed lets many moments and thus much more light in at the potential cost of blurriness. the tradeoff is, again like the aperture, high clarity versus low luminosity.

sensor

sensor... sensitivity... is basically the gain applied to the light which hits the sensor, termed ISO. ISO originally comes from film [emulsion] speed, or how sensitive the camera film is to light (and it's measured in whole numbers from like 200-25600 or something like that, not sure why--definitely something to do with film). a highly sensitive film emulsion needs less time to fully develop, but without control can cause overexposure, and also emphasizes inconsistencies in the texture of the film itself, which is seen as noise or film grain. digital cameras sought to emulate film ISO by giving users control over the gain of the sensor. increasing gain boosts the total light levels of the image at the cost of also boosting the inherent digital noise present in the electronics of the sensor. ISO gives one some final control over the luminosity of the image (and in film the speed of development) at the expense of graininess. once again, in a manner of speaking, high clarity against low luminosity.

exposure triangle or trading off

since each stage of light modification (lens -> aperture -> sensor) controls luminosity for the next stage (as well as the final product), if one wants "clarity" in general, there is almost always a necessary tradeoff between the primary quality (luminosity) and secondary qualities (depth of field, blurriness, grain).

since each stage of photography modifies the total amount of light in the final picture, there is nearly always a tradeoff occurring in the process of photographing. the primary quality, luminosity, must be preserved in order to successfully take a photo (or else you won't have enough light to see it). if you don't have enough light to begin with, some sacrifices must be made at one, two, or all of those stages to have enough light. how you prioritize these settings moves you around the inside of the exposure triangle (google an image of it, you'll understand).

photographing motion clearly

so for photographing runners in an indoor track, for example, you probably don't want a low shutter speed. that makes it impossible to make out the individual forms of the runners. but since you're indoors, you likely don't have enough light to work with. so you give priority to a shutter speed that will give you clarity of the runner's movement. this reduces the total amount of light getting to the sensor, and you're in a relatively dark environment and need to brighten the image up. you can't choose an extremely shallow depth of field because you need to be far enough away to get their full body into the camera, and you can't boost the ISO too high because everyone thinks graininess is unprofessional. so you need to modify both, such that you maximize the depth of field without the runners themselves getting involved in the blurriness, and then kick up the ISO little by little until the image is properly (not underly or overly) exposed without being noticeably grainy. maybe you take a few steps closer to get a higher fstop, too.

photographing stillness clearly

let's say you want to do some nature photography, maybe some plains sitting at the foot of a mountain range at midday. you want everything from the foreground to the clouds in the sky to be clear. so we have to give priority to a high depth of field, which means setting our aperture to be as small as possible. this of course greatly lowers the amount of light making it to the shutter, so you must balance between shutter speed and ISO: if you know there's nothing really moving around, you can choose a lower shutter speed which makes up for the rest of the luminosity and keep our ISO still low. if the clouds are drifting somewhat fast and you have wind blowing across the grasses, however, you're going to need a slightly higher shutter speed so as not to blur these details and then compensate by boosting the ISO until it's either exposed properly or almost unbearably grainy. (it seems like basically every nature photographer is using denoising filters in photoshop anway...)

prioritizing two stages?

in the case you must prioritize two of these stages, there are basically only out-of-camera ways to save the photo. for low ISO + high fstop, you need both a low shutter speed and stillness of subject or tracking equipment (and probably extra lighting). for high shutter speed and low ISO, you'll want a low fstop, and so getting closer to the subject (and probably extra lighting). for a high fstop and high shutter speed, you'll need a very high ISO -- or really, extra lighting. it seems like in any case where you have to prioritize extreme settings for two stages you should really just look into finding better lighting.

conclusion

so in most cases you probably have to sacrifice at least a little clarity in two corners for gaining clarity in one. that's what the exposure triangle symbolizes. that's why it's important to know ahead of time what your subject will be and how you'll photograph it!

of course this is all just for the photographer's ideal of "clarity". there are beautiful photos which are overexposed, underexposed, blurry, grainy, smeared with motion, et cetera. but that doesn't mean you can't ignore the exposure triangle--there are very rarely photos anyone want to see that are just totally black or white. you have to adjust these stages so that you get actual, comprehensible lighting, both light and shadow

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pianokantzart · 4 months ago

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I think King Boo's crown is made of the same substance as The Dark Moon

We know that at some point King Boo uncovered the powerful gemstones in the secret mine of Evershade Valley, but I think that this discovery reached all the way back to Luigi's Mansion 1, and that before he decided to use the gemstones to power up an army he claimed one for himself to wear as a crown.

The powers King Boo displayed in the first game, though impressive, were very different from what he had later on. King Boo's original abilities centered around crafting tangible illusions, and though those illusions were detailed, expansive, and dangerous, he had his limitations. He was smaller than his later forms, he was somewhat reliant on the presence of his fellow boos to boost his powers, and he couldn't attack anyone directly without crafting a sort of suit of armor with his newfound magic.

I think that at some point... between the end of the first game and the beginning second... another gem was found in the secret mine; a far more powerful gem with a deep, purple hue.

A gemstone that turns from purple to a bright pink when fully activated.

A gemstone that has the ability to effect the personality of ghosts.

And after King Boo was sprung from E. Gadd's garage sale he made full use of his new gem, gaining a vast number of new powers, including the ability to shatter The Dark Moon (perhaps in much the same way that the only gemstone strong enough to cut a diamond is another diamond.)

What I find especially interesting is that both King Boo's gem and The Dark Moon seem fairly responsive to Luigi's desires as well as King Boos.

In Luigi's Mansion 2, Luigi helped put the pieces of the artifact together and return it to the sky.

Similarly, in Luigi's Mansion 3, King Boo's gemstone disappears just as Luigi holds it tight out of terror, like it was responding to his subconscious desire.

Whether this is because the gemstone respects the wishes of whoever wields it, or Luigi's just a special boy, I find this pattern very interesting.

#Luigi's Mansion #Luigi's mansion Dark Moon #luigi's mansion 3 #Mario headcanons

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enigmatist17 · 6 months ago

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Part 1 of 2 of Raoul/Tracks in the Mecha Pilot Jazz AU by @keferon that I think about all the tiiiiiiiime <3

My list/own mini-universe of the AU :)

I wish I could draw the idea for Raoul's mecha, but alas, I can only wield the written word, so I hope I did alright in describing it <:)

---

When you ask Raoul Ortiz what he did before the invasions began, he'll tell you he was a thief. A run-of-the-mill carjacker who hated being that at his (frankly too young) age, but did what he had to in order to support his family and himself.

It stopped mattering when New York was almost entirely destroyed, leaving him an angry young teenager with nothing and no one to lose. He spent his last few teenage years using his skills to help those he could, fighting back against the invaders when they had attempted to attack his city again, only to watch a massive robot absolutely filet the aliens without breaking a sweat. As Raoul watched the mecha slowly leave the city once the fight was over, he knew then and there that that was his future, to go down in a blaze of glory fighting these bastards on their turf.

So sure, he hears that becoming a pilot shortens your life expectancy, it doesn't really matter. Sure, the testing is arduous, and more than once, Raoul wants to walk away from it all, but something in his heart urges him to keep going, to keep pushing despite many of his fellow recruits quitting or dying out.

The first time he's in his mecha, punching an invader clear across the city with a deafening crack makes all the pain and suffering worth it.

His mecha is powered by all the rage and loss from the first invasion, every punch and slice of a sword he'd stolen from an invader, making Raoul a fierce soldier on the battlefield, despite his mecha being of a smaller build. There began to be some improvement when he was back on base, smiling and cracking jokes while working on personalizing his mecha, figuring if he was going to die in it, he might as well die in style done by his own hands. The number 1982 on his chest was painted a blood red on top of a navy blue coating of the entire mecha, graffiti of his own, and some done by the few friends that had survived the initial attack on New York littering almost every square inch of metal. Digitigrade legs were great at giving him a great jump boost whenever he was in combat, so Raoul spent some extra time with NYU Tandon students to make sure the extra plating he was required to have was as stylish as it was functional. His narrowed hip plating was emblazoned with NEW YORK STRONG, the city skyline interlaced around the wording that usually got some cheers whenever Raoul was sent out for morale boosting, and even mimicked headphones over his audio scanners that were dialed up beyond most mecha for the times he was sent to lie in wait for an ambush. The massive visor that allowed Raoul 180° vision built with a scanner that helped with rescue as much as battle was carefully covered with several dozen clear decals, and despite some clear disapproval from the upper command, no one was going to tell a man short on time no.

So when Raoul is eventually flanked by three invaders before he can react, he knows he's going to die. They had appeared outside of Detroit, and Raoul had drawn the enemy forces away from the city, knowing at the very least he was going to save as many lives as he could at the cost of his own. Five aliens become three as he dodges and slashes in retaliation, taking down a second one by jumping on them and stabbing his alien sword into their arm, failing to notice a portal forming behind him. The last two aliens rush Raoul, and a forested area being uprooted by their fighting turns into a metal metropolis with a purple sky, the three colliding onto an alien surface with a loud thud. The mecha pilot doesn't have the time to react, letting out a yell as he jerks to his side to punch the alien to his left, getting up onto his feet just enough to jump up and away from the two, magnetizing his hands to latch onto a half-crumbled building.

"LET'S GO FUCKERS!" Ejecting his backup sword set inside one of his arms, Raoul pushes himself off the building directly toward the stunned alien, the creature letting out a high pitched scream as he slices it in half with a single jerk of his blade. The other alien had been fumbling with its gun as Raoul turned as quick as he could, only to stop when he saw a white dot on the aliens head, its body going limp and falling to the ground with a thud when the unmistakable sound of a sniper shot rang out through the unfamiliar landscape.

Raoul turns to his right to see the portal he'd been pushed into, his heart stopping when it closed with a loud buzz.

F u c k

The sight is pushed to the back of his mind as Raoul dives for cover behind some large chunks of metallic rubble, heart racing a mile a minute as he holds his blade tight. Maybe the sniper was aiming for the alien, maybe they were gunning for him next, all that mattered was surviving long enough to make it home....whenever or wherever that was. For a few minutes it was silent, but just when the pilot started to move, he could hear a few sets of...mechas approaching? Daring a peek above the rubble, Raoul's eyes widened at the grouping of five mechas heading his way, a grin crossing his face as he scrambled his mecha up and onto his feet, sheathing his sword when the group stilled at his movement.

"Holy shit, I thought I was the only one here!" Raoul laughs as he fully steps into view, though the noise peters out when he takes in their...really weird appearances. "Whoa, you guys look sick as hell!"

The electronic noise that greets his ears when the tallest mecha opens its mouth makes Raoul cover his ears with a yelp, the noise making his entire skeleton vibrate as his mind screamed danger danger danger. He steps back when another mecha (which at this point he severely doubted they were) moved forward with its hands raised, its expression unfazed when Raoul jumped up, clinging to the side of the building beside him to create a little bit of distance.

"I don't know what you are, but stay back!"

Yea, definitely not any mecha he was ever familiar with.

The mecha that had stepped forward tilted its head for a moment, clearly looking at his chassis as opposed to the visored helm he had, which it shouldn't be as it opened its mouth.

Did it know?

"'M sorry for mah friend there." It...did not make the noise from before, Raoul remaining in place as a...what the hell, a Southern sounding voice escaped the red mecha. "Forgot you human's don't understand us."

"....the hell?" (Oh my god first contact with another alien species and that's what I go with???) "You, why do you sound like you come from the South? Better question, how the hell you know English??"

"Was taught by a friend, he comes from Earth too. Wanna come on down an' talk? We've got about five klicks before we've got ta evac, an' I promise I'll explain everythin' if you come with us."

"You can get me back?" Despite still not understand who these new aliens were, Raoul figured it wouldn't be all bad to trust the aliens that knew freaking English, hopping down and landing with a quiet thud.

"Sorta, but this is enemy territory, so no dice here." The other mechas that had been with the red one were quickly hurrying past Raoul with various alien guns raised, clearly wary. "Let's go."

"Alright man, I'm followin' you guys."

---

Raoul had been on a spaceship.

A spaceship.

Fuckin'

S p a c e s h i p

If it wasn't for the fact he was stranded on an alien planet who knows how far from Earth, Raoul probably would have gone full nerd mode for at least an hour. As it stood, he just followed the red mecha named Ironhide (which is so cool??? Holy shit??) as they land inside a full on city packed with more mechas than he'd ever seen in his entire life, glowing eyes honing in on him when he exits the spaceship. It wasn't hard to see why, even though he was smaller than most mecha back home, he was a good head or two above most of these non-mecha aliens.

"Another one?" A white and red mecha had been talking to someone when they arrived, the insignia on his shoulders registering to the human as some sort of medical marking when it (He? She? Oh god this was going to get confusing soon) hurries over to one of the injured mechas that he'd traveled with.

"To be fair, this one was kidnapped too." Ironhide rolled his eyes, clapping a hand on Raoul's shoulder. "Or, tackled I guess."

"I'd say it counts as kidnappin' man." Raoul wants to facepalm when everyone stares at him, settling for grimacing as he watches Ironhide let out some sort of electronic laugh. "I don't normally get blindsided by three putos gilipollas."

"Don't know what that means, but you humans are pretty resilient when it comes ta fightin' Quintessons, gotta give you that."

"Fighting what?" Raoul is led off the landing pad and down among the passing mechas, glad no one could see his face as the stares never seemed to end. "What's a Quintesauce?"

"Quintesson, an' it's the guys trying to take over yer planet."

"Oh..." Quintesson, the name felt wrong in his mouth as he travels through a massive military base, so distracted by the sights he doesn't see the mecha he runs into, jumping back at the offended spine rattling noise that escaped the other. "Shit!"

"Sorry fella, I forgot to send word ahead." Ironhide steadied Raoul with a shake of his head, the other alien looking lost as he motioned to Raoul. "Got us another human, this one can't seem to stand our native tongue."

"How unfortunate." The new mecha scoffed after a moment, arms crossing over its (rather shiny) chest. "Perhaps it should watch where it's going then, hm?"

"Excuse me for bein' distracted by a whole new planet, don't need to be a dick about it." Raoul challenged once he could move again, eyeing the red-faced mecha.

"I do not know what a "dick" is, but I can tell when someone is being offensive." The shorter huffed, two wings (jet wings? What??) twitching as they give the humans frame a once-over with a sneer. "Why is your frame a clash of so many designs? It is displeasing to the optics."

"It's called art, shame you can't pull your head out of your ass to see it."

"Art is meant to be beautiful and inspiring, that seems better suited to blinding the enemy."

"Just makes it even more functional then, blinding them with human creativity before I kill them."

"That is not what-"

"Femmes femmes you're both pretty, can we pack it up?" Both Raoul and the other turned to look at Ironhide, who looked both amused and annoyed. "C'mon human, I'd like ta get off-duty eventually, you two can go bother each other some other time."

"After you, big guy." Raoul shrugged, giving the stunned bot a two-finger salute as he hurries after Ironhide.

Neither mech nor human think to ask about each other's name until they're both far from sight.

Ironhide leads Raoul to some sort of command center, the various mechas inside turning and reacting in surprise at the sight of Raoul, save for the only true mecha in the room.

"Oh my god...SOMEONE FROM EARTH?!" The black and white mecha vaulted across the massive holographic table between them before anyone else could react, practically vibrating in place as he grabbed Raoul's shoulders. "You have no idea how happy I am to see someone from terra firma right now."

"I can guess." Raoul chuckled, looking the taller mecha over. "You're the guy who went missing in orbit, right? Jazz?"

"That I am, name's Jazz, and let me assure ya you're among good mechs, er, people." Jazz let go to motion to the curious group behind him, clearly at ease. "Got a name?"

"Raoul, it's nice to meet you man." Raoul gave a small wave, not sure what else to really say. "Where are we? One minute I'm fighting outside of Detroit, the next I'm...well, wherever here is."

"Cybertron, our home planet." The only mech (mech? He'd need to ask what they were called, mecha was not right) that had some height on both him and Jazz stepped forward, his deep voice washing off some lingering anxiety from his earlier battle the New Yorker hadn't even noticed. "I welcome you Raoul, and I apologize for your...unexpected trip from your home planet."

"Not your guys' fault, just a hazard of the job...apparently?" Raoul shrugged, looking around the room. "What happens now, Mr...?"

"My name is Optimus Prime. As for what happens next, I'd like Ratchet to look over your frame for any potential damage before I have Jazz give you a tour. Do you require any rest or food?"

"I probably have a few hours in me before the adrenaline crash hits, I'll survive."

"Very well."

---

Raoul crashed a few hours after his arrival, in fact falling asleep in his piloting chair while Ratchet ran more than a few tests. The medic shook his helm in amusement when he noticed before rapping on the plating above where Raoul should be located, stepping back when his mecha jerked up, ready to fight if needed.

"No sleeping in my medbay unless you're injured." Despite the lack of a face plate, Ratchet could see the confusion turn to understanding once Raoul was up and on his feet through his body language. "I also went ahead and dialed down your audial sensitivity, don't want your processor melting out of your audials."

"Oh...is there a way I can reset it, if I need it?" Raoul raised a hand to touch the side of his mecha, not really feeling anything out of place, but the lack of spin-rattling ambient noise was a relief.

"Of course, I introduced some programming to allow you full control, should be in your processor under audial control. Now out, Jazz should be waiting for you." The medic made a shooing motion toward the doors.

"Right on, Doc." Raoul made a two-fingered salute before hurrying out, having annoyed his own medics enough to want to avoid doing the same to a guy fifty times his height. Jazz was indeed waiting outside, chatting up a mecha (no, Cybertronian) in the strange language he'd heard before, something he was going to have questions about later as he made his way over.

"You survived the ol' Hatchet, congrats!" Jazz straightened as the other studied Raoul with an intense expression, the pilot not hearing his fellow human as he studied the expressive face in pure curiosity. He had no idea metal could be so expressive, and it's not until a hand waves in front of his face that Raoul forgets he isn't alone, glad no one could see his embarrassment. "Earth to Raoul."

"Oh, shit, sorry, what were you saying?"

"I know Prowler is pretty, but he's spoken for." Jazz chuckled, putting himself between the alien and Raoul while slinging an arm around the shorter mecha's shoulders. "C'mon, I've got show and tell duty, and this place is pretty big. Prowler, catch ya later?"

"It is still Prowl, but of course." The alien (bot? mech? Mech is easy enough) raised an eyebrow, the doors (??) on his back giving a small flick when Jazz tilted his head slightly. "Try not to take our new arrival anywhere..."fun"."

"Aw, but those are the best places!" Jazz whined as Prowl shook his head, moving past the two to continue down the hall. "Yer no fun!"

"Goodbye Jazz." The bot waved a hand as he continued walking, the pilot chuckling as Raoul watched in quiet amusement.

"Sooooo....how does the sex work?"

"Oh no, you don't get that until we're drinking the last of my whiskey."

"Well, good thing I happen to always have a store of tequila in my mecha, then."

"Raoul, my man, we are goin' to get along great!"

Four hours and a tour of the biggest military base Raoul had ever seen in his life later, found Jazz and the New Yorker halfway to drunkenness. They had set up in some sort of rec room/cafeteria (Raoul still wasn't sure, but he'd learn), and Raoul watched with how...at ease Jazz was disengaging from his mecha in a less than secure setting. He hadn't personally known Jazz before his disappearance over two years prior, but the man didn't look too different from the remembrance posters Raoul had seen around, save for longer hair and some nasty scarring along his side when he pulled down his outer flight suit to cool off. Jazz was just fascinated with Raoul's mecha suit, what started out as a plain blue flight suit now covered in patches and custom leatherwork fans had sent in through his career, even his helmet painted to the last inch.

"Man, I am so jealous, you look so cool." Jazz sighed, grabbing Raoul's helmet to examine while the other grabbed the mentioned alcohol from his mecha. "How come you got to personalize?"

"I punched a general when he started bitching about my first set of graffiti, said if I was bein' sent out to die, might as well go out in style y'know? The mayor of New York even wrote in about it, and I guess PR loved it or somethin', 'cause no one bothered me about it again after that." Raoul fishes out the first bottle he can grab, waving it in the air in victory as he carefully steps back onto his mecha's arm. "I get kids to help me change it up after every battle, keeps it fresh and excitin'."

"And here I got yelled at for adding literal black and white coloring, that is incredibly lame." The smell of tequila nearly made Jazz's mouth water, the two taking a seat as the bottle began to be shared back and forth. "Please tell me you've got a decent food synthesizer, I don't think I can last much longer on my basic diet."

"I got one of the newer ones recently, I've had a lot of downtime in stealth mode." Raoul shrugged, letting Jazz have the majority of the drink. "The Quinetseans started gettin' decent at ambushing smaller towns with some stealth bullshit, so we got better at finding them first."

"Quintessons, and damn, that sucks." Jazz frowned, head spinning as he took another swig. "I miss Earth, you have no idea how happy I am to see another human being."

"I can only imagine, we all thought you were dead." Raoul shook his head with a low whistle. "Seems like you've been with a good group, though, and Prowl? How did you manage that?"

"A whole lotta patience." Jazz hummed, sipping the tequila once more as he lay on his side, grinning at his new friend. "To be honest, I fell for him before I even knew these guys weren't mecha, so it didn't really change any of those feelin's much."

"Good for you, take every day you can, y'know? Not like we have many of those."

"How's the turnover rate?"

"Worse, we're losin' 'em faster than we can keep replacements. Part of that is because there's a haunted mecha, but that's a whole story."

"Tell it, now. Mecha ghosts are a thing???" Jazz's eyes widened as Raoul launched into a tale of a (suspected) pilot turning spirit haunting his mecha, and how some random medic or something had been the only one to survive so far. For some reason, Jazz finds that little fact hilarious, and the two are in hysterics before long, their laughter garnering the attention of off-duty bots who entered to get energon. One of them was the bot Raoul had accidentally run into earlier, eyeing the two giggling humans as he grabbed his ration before grabbing a table, leaning over to the bot closest to him.

"Blaster, who is the new human?" The communications specialist shot him a weird look at how softly Tracks spoke, but he had seen more bizarre things over the years.

"Raoul Ortiz, Jazz scanned his mecha files, or whatever the humans do for that sort of thing, and sent me what he found. He is a pilot as well, and is classified as something called a calvary scout, has been for just shy of seven jours." Blaster scanned the data pad he fished from his subspace with a shrug, looking up at the other mech. "Seems nice enough, haven't seen Jazz smile so much."

"I suppose that's not too surprising, he's not seen a human in a long time." Tracks watched Jazz sit up, pointing at something that made Raoul howl with laughter, falling back onto the tabletop with a face plate that was taking on a red hue as he grinned.

"Want a human of your own too?"

"No!" Blaster gives him an amused look, but says nothing else as he's drawn into another conversation, leaving Tracks alone to watch Jazz and the new human (Raoul, what an odd designation) get overcharged with their single bottle until Prowl finally swooped in and carefully tugged the small high grade (no, alcohol?) bottle from Jazz's hands. He didn't realize the room had mostly emptied until the superior officer looked right at him, doorwings twitching in exasperation as he motioned to the unfamiliar frame.

"I require your assistance in helping Raoul to his quarters, he and Jazz have become quite overcharged." Tracks fought back the urge to cycle his optics as he stood, setting his empty ration cube to be cleaned before sauntering over, observing the new human start the climb to his cockpit from the table.

"Does it need anything?"

"Time, and a steady arm." Prowl flicked over the location of Raoul's newly assigned quarters before returning his attention to Jazz, who had gotten back in control of his frame to drape it across the Praxian with a coo.

"Aw I love ya Prowler, even if ya stop my fun." Tracks couldn't help the vent that escaped him as Prowl shook his helm in exasperation, guiding his wayward partner across the room as Tracks waited for Raoul to do...whatever it was they needed to do in the frame. He'd never seen Jazz entering his mecha, eyeing the small piloting chair within what would be their spark chamber light up when Raoul sat down, the human tugging down a thick cable and plugging it into the back of his helm covering, his frame's arms and legs twitching as organic and machine became one.

"Like what ya see?" Raoul was not as overcharged to the extent Jazz was, but clearly had had a sip or two himself, standing with a stretch and low hum as his chassis covering slipped closed.

"I was merely curious." Tracks began to head toward the location Prowl had given him, the human following without a word.

"You can ask questions, I don't really care about answerin' them, I'm gonna have a bunch myself after I hit the sack."

"What does hitting something have to do with questions?" Tracks asked, the human laughing when they turned down a corridor. "What?"

"I'm not actually hitting anything, it's just an expression, just means me goin' to sleep." Raoul paused when he caught sight of a training room, his faceless helm moving as he took in the sight. "Whoa, this is so cool."

"Why?" Tracks paused as he watched the other. "Do you not have training rooms?"

"Not really, well, not mecha sized anyways. Lot of our trainin' is done in training pods that simulate the field, I only get to properly mess around when I'm in the field." The human entered the room, poking at some sort of training dummy with a finger. "So yea, this is cool to see training gear this size."

"That is...strange, but when you are all so small, I suppose having the space is not a luxury you can afford."

"Nope! When we get back though, I should show you the place a few of us pilots like to sneak off to, we throw parts of mountains at each other and it's so fun." Raoul laughed, stumbling slightly as he left the room with a shake of his helm. "Man...that's even if we get back."

"I am sure Wheeljack and the others will find a way, I know they have been for Jazz for some time." Tracks led Raoul down another corridor; the lighting dimmed down this one due to it being personal quarters. "It is not so bad, however, he's found good company."

"Like you?" Raoul glanced over, noting how the other bot tensed in a way that was far too familiar.

"No, I have only dealt with him in passing."

"Uh huh..." They finally came to a stop outside of a door, Tracks pressing a panel on the right side to open the door, revealing a room that held a bed, desk with a chair, a lamp and some floating crystals on one wall unit. A small bed that was his actual size had been placed on the desk beside what looked like a water cooler and some alien fruits in a small bowl, and Raoul sent out a silent thanks to whoever did that. "This is a pretty nice place."

"If you need anything, Prowl informed me that your mecha's internal comm system has been linked into our own, and that Jazz's line has been made your primary." Tracks watched Raoul sit his mecha down, the frame powering down as he unhooked himself (still weird to watch if he was honest) after opening his chassis, grinning up at Tracks before using an arm he positioned as a bridge.

"You've been a lot of help, thanks!" The human waved up at him, and Tracks gave a short bow, turning to leave. "Before you go, can I get yer name?"

"I am known as Tracks." The human looked to the side as he mouthed his designation, and his spark fluttered when a smile was sent his way.

"Nice ta meet ya Tracks, I think I'm just gonna have to make myself some good company for ya." The mech looked taken aback by the declaration, his eyes blinking(????) before a small smile crossed his face, glowing eyes focusing on Raoul as his engine rumbled quietly.

"Perhaps you will, we shall have to see."

#personal #transformers #mecha pilot jazz au #tf mecha universe #tracksraoul #tracks x raoul #raoultracks #jazzprowl #raoul #tracks #jazz #prowl #ironhide #I've been chipping away at this #and I really hope you guys like it #Raoul x Tracks is one of my fav tf pairings of all time #these goobers are perfect together

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virtualtadpole · 8 months ago

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Thailand's "cute boy" craze: an explainer

Here's another repost from Reddit, originally from 2022. Since Perfect 10 Liners is currently airing with the "cute boy" page as a key plot point, this seems as good a time as any to re-share (remember that the original novel was first released in 2018). Sorry this one is a wall of text, I wasn't sure it'd be a good idea to include example photos involving people who weren't really public figures at the time.

Those of you following Thai BL will probably have come across this concept of "cute boy" social media fan pages, and might have wondered whether they're an actual thing. Or you may have heard of actors being one of their university's cute boys before joining the industry, and wondered what exactly that meant. Here's my attempt at an explanation.

The roots of the phenomenon go back at least to the popular Thai web forums of the 2000s, especially the youth-oriented Dek-D.com, one of Thailand's biggest and oldest web communities (also known as the web fiction platform which launched many BL novels). Dek-D's forums had a picture-sharing section, with a subsection dedicated to photos of cute guys and girls. It was still the early days of digital cameras and camera phones, and these posts were popular among the site's teen users. A few (mostly girls) who became noticed from these posts became Thailand's first "net idols", many of whom went on to join the entertainment industry.

The arrival of social networking sites around 2007 (first Hi5, then Facebook a few years later) helped facilitate these posts, as publicly posted photos became more easily accessible. The issue of privacy wasn't really on most people's minds then, and most of it was done in a light-hearted spirit. Being featured in these posts meant a boost in followers and online popularity, enabling more teens to become recognized as net idols, but it would be a few more years before this really meant anything. On the other hand, the social networking sites themselves would eventually bypass the traditional forums as a central venue for such posts, and an increasing number of Facebook pages (followed by dedicated Instagram and Twitter accounts) would be created to offer a curated experience instead.

The actual trend of "cute boy" pages took off in 2012, around the same time as the explosive growth of Instagram. Teens flocking to the platform (escaping Facebook, which was now full of parents) filled their public profiles with selfies and portraits of themselves, generating a steady stream of material that these pages could pick up to post and promote. This in turn gave the kids likes and followers, a mutually beneficial arrangement for most thanks to the platform's like-seeking culture.

Of course, not all of these proliferating pages featured teen boys. "Cute girl" pages have their share of followers, though they don't seem to be as visible or talked about, perhaps due to a combination of factors including the way society doesn't consider it as creepy for girls to openly ogle after boys compared to the opposite.

As competition grew, these pages diversified into several niches, including those covering specific schools and universities. Most of the school ones aren't that unusual, given that it's quite natural for students to talk about the popular boys and girls at school, and this had been a trend in school forums long before then. Most of them didn't last long though, as page administrators soon graduated and moved on.

However, things were different for certain high-profile schools, particularly the country's four oldest boys' schools, which participate in the biennial Jaturamitr football competition: Suankularb (SK), Debsirin (DS), Assumption (AC) and Bangkok Christian (BCC). The schools had always been well known, but the Instagram era launched an unprecedented wave of interest in their good-looking students, many of whom attracted huge numbers of followers just by being on Instagram. AC especially stands out in this regard, as Instagram allowed outsiders to glimpse into this exclusive boys' world that served as the basis of Love Sick, the source novel of which was begun in 2008.

Not only were cute boy pages created dedicated to these schools (some by outsiders), some of the boys became minor celebrities in their own right, with fans (mostly sao Y (the Thai term for fujoshi), and also some queer folk) meeting up with and photographing them in real life, especially at school events such as AC's Christmas fair and the Jaturamitr competition. And they were serious about it, coming equipped with professional DLSR cameras and huge telephoto lenses. The schools' student bodies leaned into this popularity, having the popular boys promote fundraising events and selling merchandise to their fans.

The relationship between the boys and their fans seemed to be mostly good, the boys appreciating the positive attention and the fans getting to stan someone much more accessible than the mainstream celebrity. And if they later became famous, then there's the pride of having known them before everyone else. These being sao Y, there sometimes is a bit of shipping, though mostly jokingly. Of course, this was not limited to boys from AC and the other Jaturamitr schools, but they were much more prominent.

This was the backdrop against which Love Sick launched its casting calls in 2014, which generated a huge amount of online buzz throughout the cute boy pages and fan Twitter. There's a reason the series featured such a huge cast with so many minor roles - to provide ample opportunity for fans to latch onto the actors and the show.

In some ways, the cute boy label served as a distancing from the previous term net idol, which by 2014 had begun to develop into a negative stereotype of people using their online fame to sell beauty products for easy profit, especially those livestreaming on emerging platforms such as Socialcam and Bigo Live and whose followers tended to be less sophisticated as opposed to the urban middle-class. Which is why most people appearing on cute boy pages tended to come from higher socioeconomic backgrounds, and much more attention was given to those focusing on elite schools and universities.

At the university level, cute boy (or other similarly named) pages associated with the country's top universities became very prominent online and also offline, often collaborating with the universities' student bodies to promote events and sometimes also assisting in the universities' PR for prospective students. Many universities already had a pageant culture in one form or another, with which these pages tied in well. Most prominent among the pages were Chula Cute Boy and TU Sexy Boy of Chulalongkorn and Thammasat, the country's two oldest universities. The two universities have an annual traditional football match, which the Cute Boy and Sexy Boy pages played large parts promoting in recent years, and is another event that attracts many fangirls.

Some have argued that the net idol phenomenon serves as a democratization of the entertainment industry, opening up opportunities for aspirants to directly connect to audiences as opposed to the traditional model where everything depended on one being picked up by an agency. But it benefits the traditional model as well. While in the old days talent scouts would look for teens hanging out at Siam Square, today they only have to scan the cute boy pages. Many BL actors were discovered this way. Inn Sarin was a long-time favourite of Chula Cute Boy, and Up and Mix first became widely known from there as well. Many others have likewise previously been featured in various cute boy pages, and practically all of the younger actors who joined the industry more recently probably had strong followings before their debut.

But the craze might be coming to an end. While there have long been concerns over today's youth's obsession with looks, and the university cute boy pages have from the beginning been criticized for promoting shallow images of their universities at the expense of academic aspects, they didn't really have any effect on the trend. But this began to change in 2020, when a widespread youth protest movement swept through school and university campuses and liberal progressive ideas rose to the fore. The issue of "beauty privilege" became one of many perpetual topics of discussion, and many began calling for an end to university cute boy pages. Thammasat, long regarded as the university with the strongest student activism, saw the TU Sexy Boy page shutting down (though the admin cited personal reasons and it was never confirmed whether this was in response to the criticism). Many people seem to have stopped tweeting cute boy pictures since then.

On top of the political mood, the pandemic's disruption of normal school life also interrupted the cute boy momentum, as many photo opportunities dried up. Long-time page admins and fans outgrowing the topic and losing interest might also be a factor. The Chula Cute Boy page has also been inactive since late 2020, for undisclosed reasons.

The future seems at best unclear for now. There are still many active pages out there, but on the whole, from what I've seen, there does seem to be a loss of interest. If younger netizens are indeed disinclined to craze after them the same way, the era of cute boy pages might very well soon be over.

Or maybe they've just moved onto TikTok, and I haven't found out how.

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In the above original post, I neglected to go into the phenomenon of real-people shipping, so I'm attaching this comment from later as an addendum:

Regarding real-people shipping, there are probably two lines of origin that influenced the practice. First is the rise of K-pop and the shipping culture that came with it, which led to a proliferation of online fanfiction in dedicated Thai web communities and a shipping culture forming around the reality singing competitions which were the talk-of-the-town entertainment programs in the 2000s. One of the first really famous shipped pairs was Nat and Tol from Academy Fantasia season 4 in 2007. (That is Nat Sakdatorn, whom you may recognize as the uncle from Never Let Me Go, among many other roles.)

The other origin is the rise of "net idols", which followed the arrival of social media sites (in Thailand this was led by Hi5 in 2006). I covered this in more detail in my post on Thailand's "cute boy" craze, but didn't really touch upon the shipping aspect. Indeed, a significant shipping culture did form (a few years later) around net idols/cute boys. At first this focused more on (people who were believed to be) real-life couples, like Both and Newyear, who became famous in 2012. From there, manufactured/imaginary couples naturally followed in hopes of cashing in on the popularity of such shipped pairs.

I'm a bit hazy on when the shipping of actors as couples actually became a regular thing in the BL industry. While the practice of fanservice moments on the promotion circuit go back at least to The Love of Siam, I don't think there was significant shipping of the actors' real-life persona, and the same seemed to be the case with Love Sick, especially after the series ended. The first actor pair to become shipped as such was probably Krist and Singto from SOTUS, and the practice quite definitely became a thing after that.

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Postscript: Thanks for reading, and sorry the writing in this one isn't as good as the other posts I've shared. If you're interested in further reading on the topic, I can recommend the article The Yaoi Phenomenon in Thailand and Fan/Industry Interaction. (2019). Plaridel, 16(2), 63–89 by Assoc. Prof. Natthanai Prasannam, one of the leading Thai academics on BL/Y culture in Thailand.

#thai bl #thai culture #bl meta

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