#how badly studios fuck over movies and shows

[cipher26]

I have so many thoughts on Arcane which I'll get to eventually, but before that I just have to say...

ANYONE who is complaining about how short and rushed this season was, or how little time we got with certain characters/plots... don't blame the creators or the writers.

Blame the streamers. Those studios, Netflix in particular, are the ones who are responsible for destroying TV and cutting seasons in half, and then limiting most shows to 2 seasons. Television has suffered so much because of their greed. Those studios aren't run by artists, they're run by moneymen. They don't care about your shows, they don't care about the stories or the characters or the fans, they just want money. And they mismanage their money so much it's fucking sickening.

And yes, it is a choice. It doesn't have to be this way, and there can be exceptions. The finale of the last season of Stranger Things was 2 and a half hours long. It was it's own movie.

So blame the streamers. Blame them every single day until we get greedy asshole's hands off of our art so that we have the space to present our stories in the way they deserve.

EDIT: To be clear when I say streamers, I'm talking about the studios, particularly the ones like Netflix/Disney/Hulu that can only be watched on the internet via streaming apps. Broadcast television used to be, and still is in some cases (Blue Bloods, Grey's Anatomy season 87...), 20-23 episode seasons. With story and nuance and side quests and growth.

[7ndipity]

He Forgets Your Birthday

Yoonig x Reader

Summary: You’ve always had a complicated relationship with your birthday, but Yoongi’s always there to comfort you. Until he isn’t.

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: angst, comfort, swearing, suggestive at the end

A/N: Thanks to @coffeedepressionsoup for this request, I hope you like it!

Masterlist

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You never really liked your birthday.

For as long as you could remember, you could sense the looming feeling of dread and unease each year as the date drew closer. You don’t know what it was exactly, maybe it was because of how you were raised, maybe it was just a quirk of your personality, but whatever the reason, you could never shake the feeling of guilt, as if you were a burden to those around you.

Over the years though, you had been lucky enough to find a circle of people that, while they might not fully understand your feelings on the subject, made a point to make sure you felt special and remind you of how much they cared for you whenever that fateful day rolled around.

One of the best at this was Yoongi.

Yoongi had always had a particular knack for being able to read your emotions and understood your feelings about your birthday, he wasn’t exactly fond of his either, but that didn’t stop him from worrying whenever he noticed you growing more quiet and withdrawn as it approached.

He never pressured you to share what was going on in your mind in those times, but he always found little ways to let you know that he was there for you and to show how much he loved you.

It was never anything super elaborate; last year, the two of you just went to the movies, because he knew there was a particular film you’d been dying to see.

It never really mattered to you what you did though, so long as you were together, you were happy.

Though, time together had been rather hard to come by the past few months.

Yoongi had been busier than ever, traveling and working relentlessly in preparation for his new album. Most nights he was holed up at the studio til 2 or 3 in the morning working on songs.

You worried about him over extending himself, but he assured you that he had it all under control, that he was able to keep up with everything.

It was another one of those late nights at the studio as he sat hunched over his soundboard when the sound of his phone finally managed to break through his hyperfocus.

Glancing at his phone, he face pulled into a slight frown as he read the text notification from Namjoon.

“How’s Y/n?”

“Fine, I think. Why??” He sent back, confused by the random question.

“Idk, she just seemed a bit down earlier when I sent a happy b-day msg”

“Her birthday’s not till tomorrow-

”Oh fuck.” He swore out loud, checking the date on with a sink stomach as he realized his horrible mistake.

Jumping to his feet, he felt his heart drop again at the sight of the time on his phone screen.

10:02pm.

“Fuck.” He cursed again, nearly running down the hall to the elevators. He couldn’t believe he’d mixed up the days so badly. How could he have fucked up something like this?

Had you realized yet? Most likely, he hadn’t heard anything from you since your usual morning texts. You must’ve been so upset, how was he ever going to make up for this to you?

He practically ran up the stairs to your apartment, knocking frantically on the door and begging that you weren't so mad that you wouldn't answer.

As soon as you opened the door, he tackled you in a crushing bear hug.

“Yoongi, what-?”

“I’m so sorry, Y/n.” He mumbled into your neck.

“What are you talking about?” You asked.

“Your birthday.” He felt you stiffen slightly.

Pulling away to look at you, his heart broke further as he noticed the faint redness around your eyes.

“I got the days mixed up, I thought it was tomorrow,” He explained guiltily. “I’m so sorry, Jagi.”

You looked down, nodding slowly.

“It’s okay.” You said softly, voice still somewhat croaky from your earlier bout of crying.

“It’s not, though. I should’ve been here.” He said, growing more upset with himself.

“You’ve been busy, I get it.”

“That's no excuse,” He said. “I still fucked up.”

“It’s fine, Yoongi, really.” You said tiredly, wanting desperately to just forget the whole thing.

“No, it isn’t-” He insisted, gripping onto your hand as you tried to draw away.

“Yoongi, please.” The last word comes out far more broken than you intended it to, betraying your true emotions that you’d been trying to stamp down all evening.

Before you could help it, the tears you had been trying to hold back broke free, dripping down your cheeks and onto your joined hands.

Yoongi instantly pulled you to his chest, hugging you tightly as he backed the two of you into your apartment.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Jagi.” He whispered over and over, softly stroking your hair as your tears dampened his shirt.

After a few minutes once your sobs quieted, he pulled back to see your face.

“Are you okay?” He asked gently.

You nodded.

He led you over to the couch, still keeping you close as you sat silently for a moment.

“Are you angry?” He asked quietly.

You shook your head, biting your lip.

“Tell me what you’re thinking.” He pleaded, his dark eyes boring into your own.

You thought for a moment, taking a deep, steadying breath.

“I know that you love and care about me” You began slowly. “And I know you would never do anything to intentionally hurt me, but… not hearing from you, not even getting a text or something… I don’t know, it just kinda stirred up those old feelings and thoughts of how easily I could be forgotten, what if people don’t actually like me, what if they just tolerate me in their lives...”

Your voice was almost inaudible by the end, not wanting to fully admit the deprecating thoughts that were going through your mind.

Yoongi teared up at your words. He knew he’d asked, but hearing you say it aloud broke his heart; to know he’d scratched those old wounds and caused you to doubt yourself crushed him inside.

“Look at me,” He said seriously, turning to face you. “Those thoughts? Nothing could be further from the truth. You mean more to me than anything in the fucking world. I know I fucked up today, but I need you to know that there is nothing that could ever make me forget about you. You are the first and last thought in my mind every single day. Understand?”

You nodded, wiping away a few more stray tears that had slipped out.

“C’mere.” He pulled you into another tight embrace, kissing your temple. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You muttered, tucking your face in the crook of his neck.

“If you want, we could still do something? Try and enjoy the last couple hours of the day, at least?” He offered

You shook your head. “I just want to be with you.”

He nodded, shifting around on the couch and pulling you onto his lap, holding you close.

“I love you.” He whispered again, running his soothing hands over your hips.

“I know.” You said, equally soft, cradling his face in your hands as you drew him in to connect your lips.

He kissed you deeply, trying to channel just how much you meant to him through the action, hands coming up to hold your waist, pressing you even closer.

He would never hurt you like this again, he swore to himself, pressing you closer to him. He would do everything in his power to remind you how much you meant to him every chance he got.

You sighed, looping your arms around his neck as you let yourself drift in the feeling of him all around you, the scent of his cologne, the soft sounds that left him as his lips drifted down the expanse of your throat, the way his hips twitched beneath you when you tugged at his hair.

Suddenly, he tipped you back on the couch, coming to hover over you, breathing unsteady as he stared down at you with an intensity that made you shiver.

“Happy birthday, Y/n.”

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan @feminympho @a-gayish-unicorn @dfqcsqueen @mother2monsters @comingupwithacoolnameishard @bo0o0o0ooo @universal-travel-er @captainorangegoose @k4ngelz

[avanatural]

Mind Games

Part 5

Series summary: Set in 1984. It’s that time of the year – the supes are having the time of their lives at the Herogasm festival. Soldier Boy seems to have taken a special interest in Y/N, a fellow superhero.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x female Reader

Category: Angst, little bit of fluff, 18+

Word count: 4.2k

Chapter warnings: Mentions of disordered eating and mental abuse, sexual harassment, heavy drinking, mentions of drugs, mentions of masturbation

A/N: Welcome to part 5! There’s tension between Y/N and Ben, but who knows? They might actually warm up to each other some more 😉 I hope you enjoy. Wanna be added to my Soldier Boy tag list? Send me an ask ❤️

Part 4 | Series Masterlist | Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

“What’s got your panties in a twist?”

“I’m fine,” I grunted out an obvious lie and pulled my white leather dress down my thighs, adjusting my seated position.

“Hm-mh…,” he hummed, taunting me with that guttural voice, “Are you jealous? That your sister beat you to finding out my name?” The grin that widened across his mouth begged me to slap it off his face.

Soldier Boy… Excuse me, Ben and I were sitting under obnoxiously bright lights, on a hard expensive couch, cameras ready to roll, waiting for the talk show host to join us in the studio.

“Look, I’m tired,” I mumbled, blinking my heavy eyelids and meeting his pompous gaze, “Let’s just get this over with.”

“Christ on a cross,” he breathed, leaning back a little to get a closer look at me was a whole. His apple green eyes were roaming my face through the slits of his helmet. “Where’s the fucking fire in your eyes?”

Instead of replying, I fled into my own head. Unfortunately, my nerves were soaring and I couldn’t manipulate myself into a calmer state of mind. I didn’t know if I could credibly pretend to be over the moon about Payback Rising. But I had to force myself to. The future of my bank account depended on this. My sister’s future depended on this.

“Seriously, though,” Ben suddenly spoke up again, startling my tense body and my racing mind, “Lily’s a good kid. You’re doin’ a nice job.”

My eyebrows lowered as I examined his face, searching for any hint, any sign that he might be messing with me. Imagine my surprise when realization finally hit me – he wasn’t playing. It was a truthful fucking compliment. I opened my mouth, about to thank him, but I didn’t get to.

The host dropped down on the armchair opposite us, holding a bunch of note cards in her hands, instantly receiving a touch-up from the make-up artist. Her blazer and pencil skirt made me feel underdressed. Though I had to admit, her shoulder pads were massive enough to rival Ben’s armor. 

Well, here goes nothing, I thought to myself. A few dreadful heartbeats and quick “hellos” later, the show’s quirky introduction melody rang through the studio, sealing my fate. There was no way out now.

“Welcome to Power Hour! I’m your host, Amanda Donaldson. And today, I brought lots of juicy news for you to enjoy! First and foremost, I have two very special guests here with me. They’re gorgeous, they’re talented, and they’re superheroes! Vought legend Soldier Boy and rising underdog Trouble!”

A round of pre-taped applause supported Amanda’s upbeat announcement. I wanted to roll my eyes so badly that I had to bite my tongue to refrain from doing so.

Ben, on the contrary, wore a smirk on his face that ranged from one ear to the other. “It’s good to be back!”, he exclaimed, clapping his hands together.

“It’s good to see you again! And you brought a new guest to our show!” Amanda turned to me with her million-dollar smile. “Trouble, thank you for being here!”

“Thank you for having me,” I said, nodding politely at the host.

“You just landed your very first role in a Vought movie! How exciting is that?”

“Oh, it’s incredible!”, I replied, trying my best to keep up with the two professional grinners, “I still can’t believe I got to work with the greatest superheroes in the world. It baffles me, truly.”

Amanda turned to Ben. “Soldier Boy, what has it been like working with Trouble?”

“Oh, we had a blast! This one right ‘ere…” He pointed his thumb at me and leaned forward in the host’s direction, hypnotizing her with his sparkling green gems. “Made the rest of us look like amateurs. Let me tell ya. She only needed one take for her scene.” He leaned back again and lifted his pointer finger. “One take!”

My shoulder twitched against his as I laughed for the camera. “Only because you made it easy for me.” 

Ben looked at me when I addressed him, a cocky smile on his face, licking his lips. 

“I felt so comfortable on set that nothing could go wrong, really,” I added, not missing the way my colleague was basking in my compliments.

“What can I say? You’re a natural,” he said, planting his hand on top of mine, which was resting in my lap. His voice dropped, the tone so pleasant yet menacing that his next words froze the blood in my veins. “Made for the game.”

I paused, not knowing what to say. His hand tightened around mine, trapping me in his hold. His eyes were like bear traps, snapping me into place. 

“Wow, you two have chemistry!”, Amanda barged into our staring match like a hound smelling blood, “Which is not surprising, I mean, aside from your homage to Trouble on Solid Gold,” she spoke, lifting her hand in Ben’s direction, “We’ve been granted a behind-the-scenes peek of the Payback Rising set. And it looks intimate.”

The host pulled out a copy of the picture of Ben and I that had made it into the newspapers. Of course, she was gonna do that. The photograph of him carrying me was accompanied by a cheering track. “Can the two of you walk us through what’s going on here?”, she asked.

“Ha-ha, I see what you’re doin’ there, Mandy.” Ben let go of my hand to point at Amanda and gave her a charming wink. “You never fail to tickle information out of me, sweetheart.”

She giggled, trapped like a little rat in his mace. “You can’t blame a girl for trying.”

“I’m afraid we can’t say anything until the movie is released,” I chimed in, shrugging my shoulders as apologetically as possible.

“So, you can’t give us anything official,” Amanda acknowledged, “But maybe we can discuss something a little more… private.”

“Like what?”, I asked, trying to keep the smile on my face even though every fiber of my being was telling me to get out of there.

“Well, your dating lives are very much a topic of public interest. People are speculating around the clock. You got yourselves a ‘will-they-won’t they’-type situation. Your fans would love to see you two together! Is there any chance of that happening?”

“Oh, Amanda, don’t put us on the spot like that,” Ben said with an angelic, exaggerated chuckle, “You’re gonna make us blush.”

“We’re just friends,” I stated, cutting through his innocent act.

“Close friends,” Ben corrected me with a pointed look to my face.

“You sure it’s not more than that?”, Amanda questioned, eyeing us with a hawk’s unwavering focus.

“I guess we’ll see,” Soldier Boy spoke, directing a playful wink at the camera that was surely going to keep the audience on their toes.

A week later

Tossing my head back, I emptied the shot glass into my throat. Lily was at a sleepover with her friends, and I desperately needed some time to unwind. The talk show had been a huge success. The only place I could unwind now without being fawned over was the underground supe bar.

But down there, things weren’t exactly calm, either. The air was flooded with tension. I slammed my empty glass onto the bar, my gaze wandering back to the two supes I’d been watching – an older guy and a young woman.

The guy was a shapeshifter, borrowing the meatsuit of a middle-aged, successful, well-groomed businessman. He was getting a little too comfortable with the young woman. Palm on her hip, wearing a dirty smirk on his face while the girl wore a frown on her own. One wrong move, and I was gonna turn his brain to mush.

He leered at the young woman, flashing his thousand-watt smile as he tried to claim her mouth. She leaned back on instinct, trying to escape his grip, and I decided I’d seen enough.

My eyes lit up, glowing with anger, as I took over the shifter’s head. The confused expression on his face was priceless. He had zero clue what was going on. Game on, you prick. He turned crimson when I replayed his most embarrassing secret not just in his mind, but also in the minds of his drinking buddies. Apparently, he’d peed himself during a sexual encounter at Herogasm. My tongue peeked through my teeth as I chuckled to myself.

The shapeshifter put his fingers on his temples, wondering where the banging headache and the intense memories were suddenly coming from, and why his friends were laughing at him.

The young woman stepped away from the shifter and met my gaze. I could see a look of relief and recognition pass her pale face. She nodded at me and hurried to the exit. 

Unfortunately for us women, male supes behaved like that a lot. They were a lot more powerful than your average Joe, and too many of them loved to show it.

“You!”

I turned my head to see the shapeshifter staring at me, red-faced, the veins in his neck about to burst with fury. “Hm?”

“You think this is funny?”, he barked, making himself taller by straightening his back.

I shrugged my shoulders. In situations like that, it was best to remain calm. “I do, yeah.” Oh, and to provoke. You couldn’t pick a fight and walk away. With supes, the only way out was through.

“You little cunt! I’m gonna fucking end you-“

I could feel the muscles bulge in my jaw. “I see you treat a woman like that again, you’re dead,” I threatened, “You understand?”

“Oh, someone’s about to be dead.” The shapeshifter started rolling up his sleeves. His nostrils were flaring along with his angry breaths.

“We got a fucking problem here?”, a gruff voice entered our little argument. His heavy footsteps echoed through the bar, silencing those around him. His wide shoulders entered my line of vision, filling my sight completely as he stepped in front of me – Soldier Boy.

Ben radiated authority, despite only wearing half his suit. He’d lost the protective gear on his head and legs, as well as his shield and his other weapons. But the angered look on his face showed he meant business.

“N-no,” the shapeshifter started to ramble, “No problem here. All good.” He gulped, his Adam’s apple dancing with worry.

Ben aimed a glove-clad finger at the shapeshifter. “I see you gettin’ outta line again-“

“I won’t. I won’t, Soldier Boy,” the shifter assured him. After some meaningless sucking up, he left, and the women in the bar could breathe again. Everyone went on about their business as though nothing had happened.

Ben claimed the stool next to me, pushing out a groan of comfort as he got settled at the bar. “Didn’t expect to see Ms. Goody-Two-Shoes in this fucking dump.”

I blinked at him with a bewildered expression. “Goody-Two-Shoes?”

“You’re called Trouble. And I’m wonderin’ why.” He shrugged his massive shoulders, side-eying me with hooded eyes. “One would think you’re more intimidating. A lot fucking worse than… this.”

“Excuse me?”

“You could’ve killed the guy.” Ben tilted his head toward the exit of the bar. “Would probably have been the better choice ‘cause scum like that tends to retaliate. If you want respect, you gotta live up to your reputation. Fuck shit up.” His face was slightly flushed, and his brick wall of a body moved more fluidly than usual, making me wonder how long he’d already been drinking. “But instead, you’re a caregiver who saves damsels in distress and makes assholes blush,” he cackled, flashing his pearly whites.

“You know what…” I paused, trying to find my defiance, but it evaporated with my next sharp exhale. My heart was yearning for some peace of mind. Just for one night. “I really don’t have it in me to bicker tonight.” I waved at the bartender to pour me another shot.

Ben raised his giant hand along with mine, signaling for the bartender to make that two. “Wow. A woman keeping quiet,” he praised sourly, “I’ll drink to that.”

“Wow. A man being sexist. How original,” I shot back. So much for peace. Ben could lure my fire back to the surface like no one else. I had to give him that.

Instead of lashing out at me, he just cocked his head and chuckled. He seemed oddly satisfied with my response. “Atta girl.”

“Ben… You can leave,” I huffed, eyeing him over my shoulder after pushing my key into the lock. “You didn’t have to walk me all the way home.”

“Are you kiddin’ me? That’s what a man does.” When I stepped into my apartment, Ben squeezed himself through the narrow doorframe and passed me in the tight hallway. It only took him a few steps to take in the entire view of my small living space. He let out a low whistle as he looked around. “This is where you live?”

“Yeah.” I shut the door and joined him in the living room. With sarcasm running through my veins, I raised my arms and feigned a smile. “Welcome to my humble home.”

“This is…” His freckle-stained nose wrinkled. “A fucking disgrace.”

“That’s one way to put it.” When his disappointed frown turned to face me, I snapped, “I’m working on it, okay?”

He nodded his head at Lily’s bedroom. “Your sister home?” The door war closed, so I had no clue how the hell he could tell it was her room.

“No.” I shook my head, reaching for the whiskey bottle on one of the bookshelves in the living room. “I wouldn’t leave her by herself.”

He scoffed and planted himself in front of the window, staring down at the colorless yard of the apartment complex. “What is she, three years old? Nobody gave a shit about my whereabouts when I was her age.”

My brows knitted. “Are we really gonna talk about how we grew up?”, I asked with a joking undertone, but I was secretly dreading that kind of conversation.

Slowly, Ben turned around on his bowed legs, palms on his hips. Under the pale lights, he looked like a gigantic replica of the little superhero action figures in Lily’s room. “Oh, we’re gonna need more booze for that,” he claimed, pointing at the liquor bottle in my grasp, batting those damn eyelashes at me.

I sized him up, wondering if it was a good idea to have fucking Soldier Boy as my guest. But I was seriously starting to doubt that he was ever going to kill me. Somehow, I doubted he even had it in him. 

“Alright, fine,” I sighed out, placing the bottle on the couch table with a dull clinking sound, “Make yourself at home.”  

Ben licked his lips, pleased by my invitation. He sat down on the worn couch, grinding his jaw when he sank lower than he expected to. “You need to fucking move,” he groused like a spoiled child.

I placed a glass in front of each of us, then let myself drop onto the cushion next to him. “Do you insult the homes of all the people you visit?”

“Ha. No, I, uh…,” he trailed off, looking lost in thought, and then suddenly cleared his throat. “Never mind.” He reached out his hand and wiggled his thick fingers, silently telling me to turn over the booze.

With my heart sinking in an odd way, I concluded that not a lot of people invited him to their homes and gave him the bottle. Maybe he needed the alcohol even more than I did. I waited for my turn while he poured himself a generous shot.

“You ever see the Soldier Boy story?”, Ben asked, handing me the bottle, and then proceeded to swallow his shot whole.

“Are you kidding me?”, I retorted, filling my own tumbler, “They show that movie in schools to this day. A poor child from South Philly finds out he’s got magical powers to match his heart of gold.” With an exaggerated movement, I put my right hand over my heart while my left hand lifted my shot glass to my lips.

“Yeah, well… It’s a load of bullshit,” he grumbled and spilled a fresh amber pool of liquor into his tumbler.

“You mean you don’t have a heart of gold?”, I asked, feigning shock. 

The way he narrowed his eyes at me could have scared me, but it only made me smile. And I could have sworn that his mouth twitched, too.

“My father owned half the steel mills in the state,” he revealed, “I never lived in the streets, was never poor. Vought made all that shit up.”

I nodded to myself. The man that I’d admired growing up was nothing more than a false myth. A bedtime story. Instead of being a true hero, he really was the spoiled child he came off as. “Well… I can’t say that I’m surprised,” I muttered, “It seems all Vought cares about is profit.”

“They’re gonna do the same fucking thing to you,” he said, his bitter face meeting mine, “They’re probably gonna invent some kind of… sob story to raise your popularity. If our love story ain’t enough, that is. You should up your fucking game on that one.”

“Love story, huh?”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t see that one comin’,” he taunted, his lips curling into a half-grin. “To be popular, you need to either be loved or hated. Vought is starting to consider the American Sweetheart narrative for you. That’s what The Legend’s hopin’ for, anyway.”

I chewed on my lower lip, staring at nothing in particular, mind draped in floating thoughts. Maybe there was someone to support me, to root for me, after all. Maybe I could really pull it all off somehow. Become one of the greater supes. And it was fucking Soldier Boy, of all people, who was pushing me over the edge toward ambition. 

“If the Soldier Boy story is nothing but a bunch of lies… Then what’s your real story?”, I inquired.

He huffed and downed yet another shot. With a hiss, he slammed the tumbler onto the couch table. “My father sent me to boarding school. Bein’ away from home was… the best damn time of my life.” His body froze like a perfect painting, emerald eyes turning glassy. It was only after he cleared his throat that he continued, “I got kicked out of boarding school ‘cause I was a fuck-up. So… Back home, it was. Father said I was a disappointment. That I didn’t deserve to carry his name.” Another pause. Another far-away look in his face. “That didn’t change when I became a fucking superhero.”

I tried catching his eye, but failed due to the pain he was trying to hide away. “How did you become a supe?”

“Went to my father’s golf buddies in the war department,” he scoffed, “Got injected with some blue substance, and voilà, Soldier Boy was born. I became the strongest fucking man alive, and… it still wasn’t good enough for my old man.” When he finally looked up, he’d blinked away the salty shimmers, but there were still golden specks of sorrow in those green orbs. “I hate to break it to you, princess, but none of us are born superheroes.”

“I know.”

He arched his eyebrows at my reply.

“My dad, he…” My chest expanded and shrunk as I recalled how my father had told me about the drug I’d been given as a baby. “He told me about Compound V. When I was eleven, I think.”

“Your old man still around?”

“No.”

“Was he good to you?”, Ben wondered casually, but the way he studied my face told me he was indeed curious.

“Yeah.” The corners of my lips bent upward as I remembered some happier moments of my childhood. “My father… He loved my powers. But he loved me more.” My eyes started to burn with tears, the air started to hurt in my lungs, and I tried to keep myself under control. “Sometimes, when my mother put me on yet another diet, he would slip me candy bars and money for proper food.” 

While I spoke, Ben was just observing me. Not mocking me, not moving in any way, surprisingly just waiting.

“My mother, she…,” I went on, “Ugh, she wanted a perfect little Miss Superhero. Dragged me to all the pageants. When I think back, I can still smell the goddamn hairspray and hear the mothers yell at their daughters. I never lived up to my mom’s expectations. I was never talented enough, polite enough, or pretty enough.”

He hummed quietly to himself, and I wasn’t sure anymore if he was caught up in my story or his own.

My lips sagged as I continued, “So, I got frustrated and just… Started working against her. I got into fights, started taking drugs, shoplifted. She loved my powers. But she hated me.” My gaze dropped to my wildly fidgeting fingers, and I cracked my knuckles in an attempt to self-soothe. “She made sure I knew I was a fuck-up. She would turn in her grave if she could see that I’m the one raising Lily now.”

Ben sighed through his pursed mouth and raised his glass to me. “To fucked-up parenting.”

I bit the inside of my cheek and bumped my glass against his. “To fucked-up parenting.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No, we were wired to the fucking gills,” Ben chuckled, comfortably buzzed. His cheeks wore a freckled tinge of red, and he’d taken off his gloves.

“Holy shit!”, I cried out and downed the light brown liquid in my glass once more. 

Though, let’s be honest, I should’ve stopped drinking quite a while ago. My mind was foggy, yet excited, and my body felt drowsy. Don’t get me wrong, I was a fun drunk. But also a reckless one. I made bad decisions if I crossed that line from tipsy to wasted. And I hadn’t just tiptoed along that line, like I’d told myself I would. I had crossed it with a powerful somersault to the deep end.

“You disappointed?”, he questioned, examining my flushed face.

“What?”, I mumbled, turning to fully face him, sitting cross-legged on the couch, the shoes missing from my feet.

He cocked his head and said, “They say never meet your fucking idols for a reason.”

“Who said you were my idol?”, I babbled, close to laughing again. Why was everything so funny when I was drunk?

Ben raised one of his eyebrows at me, his head moving backward in surprise, creating half a double chin on his upper throat. 

I paused for a second and realized just how close we were sitting to each other. Even offended, he was gorgeous. On the outside, at least.

“Alright, fine. I used to have a poster of you,” I confessed through a tiny embarrassed fit of laughter. Blame it on the whiskey. It made me chatty.

“Ha! For real?”, he exclaimed, a genuine gleam of interest flashing through his eyes.

“Yeah… It was a rare one, too. Aaall my friends were jealous.” Having lost my sensitivity for personal space, I leaned forward a little too far, leaving only a few inches of alcohol breaths between us. “My green wallpaper really brought out the color of your eyes.”

His gaze fell to my mouth. It was just a tiny, soft movement, but its impact on the atmosphere was harsh like the slap of a whip. “You ever touched yourself to the thought of me?”, he questioned, then sunk his teeth into his plump lip.

“You have no shame, do you?”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” The corner of his mouth pulled up, lining his face with a drowsy half-smirk. He tilted his face so that he could look directly into my eyes. “I’ve certainly beat my meat thinkin’ ‘bout that pretty little cunt of yours.”

His raspy tone shot a hot shiver down my body. The sparks even reached the tips of my fucking toes. I dragged my tongue along my lower lip. His hungry gaze followed the pink muscle. “You have?”  

Blunt fingertips met my cheekbone with the softest of touches. They skimmed along my skin with great care, latching on to some rogue strands of hair to place them behind my ear.  “Ever since I had you in my fucking trailer, I can’t stop thinkin’ about you,” his captivating voice admitted, urging me to believe him.

Oh boy, charm-alert. I was a weak woman. Longing to be held, even more so when I was intoxicated. And there was a well-built, handsome man sitting on my couch, making advances at me.

When I got up, the alcohol swirled around in my system, and I stumbled a little.

“Whoa, princess, you’re fucking wasted, aren’t you?” His hands steadied me by my hips as I climbed onto his lap. Amusement overtook his face. “Maybe it’s time for a little nap.”

“You wanna come to bed with me?”, I whispered against his bearded cheek.

His gravelly, honey-coated chuckles touched my very core. Then suddenly, he hauled me up along with him, holding me up by the backs of my thighs. My legs wound around his middle as he carried me to my bedroom. I pressed my lips to his neck to stop more drunk giggles from coming out.

Tag list: @akshi8278 @leigh70 @impalaslytherin @mimzy1994 @asgardiandeadpoetsociety​ @panhufflestugf @spnwoman​ @themerc-with-a-mouth​ @waynes-multiverse​ @tzillas​ @josephslittlemetalballs​ @deliriouslybi​ @ryethebrokengae​ @epiphany-of-a-madwoman​ @rach5ive​ @mrsjenniferwinchester​ @may85​ @jassackles​ @mimaria420​ @calsjack @gingersass​ @madigabiab @tmb510​ 

[swifty-fox]

As a follow up to another 'ask' you've just answered ... why do you think MOTA made an underwhelming impression? Do you think the cast are disappointed?

I know the other two (BoB and TP) were slow burners, but the quality is just so much better - and BoB is a TV classic.

Was it the Covid issues cutting into story-lines? A slightly old-fashioned approach? An over-saturated TV market? The move to Apple TV? Weak interpretation of the source material? It must be hard to make the plane stuff engaging after a few battles...

There are many elements I enjoy (hello #Clegan, my loves LOL) but it's nowhere near 5 stars, y'know?

I think that it's not as well written as the other two. Which is not to say it's badly written (to a point. I do have some Complaints). TP and BOB are just THAT GOOD. Band of Brothers was Not a slowburn it was a pretty huge thing when it hit! TP less so but I still remember it airing and being talked about. And we know War movies do well still, think of 1917 or Dunkirk or even All Quiet. But I heard Nothing about MOTA unless I sought it out. I can't even remember how I stumbled across it.

I think it's simply.... movie and show culture these days. We're in a crisis of sacrificing quality (and quantity) for Dollars. It just has not been given the same love and care as the other two shows on the production/studio side of things. And plus the limited streaming of it only being Apple TV yes. Fuck knows I'm not paying that shit. I don't think Covid cut into storylines I think they just threw underdeveloped characters in a soup pot and saw what happened.

I do think they are very hurt by the one thing that made TP and BOB so unique. The real guys got to advise on the show. We lack those firsthand accounts for these guys (for the most part. nobody in the show with any significance was alive for the filming as far as I know. Jefferson passed in 2019) This IS something GK has a leg up on MOTA with as well. And ABSOLUTELY Agree about the plane battles getting old real quick. I felt that even in watching it just became such a Formula.

I think the lack of sets/on location hurt it as well. If you look at BOB especially the backgrounds are just so Rich. TP too but jungle is jungle at the end of the day. That lacks heavily in MOTA. The show just feels so tight and insular visually. Claustrophobic even when they're in the desert (cause they're actually inside and even if you cant tell consciously ur subconscious can)

I think Speilburg also had a much more hands off approach to this show for all he's slapped his name on it. Man did say he was done with war movies after all

[self-indulgent-paw-patrol]

The third Paw Patrol movie is a little over two years away, reportedly titled "The Dino Movie" any ideas or theories on what the movie will be about or what pup it will focus on?

I didn't even know about this supposed title until you sent this ask, all I knew was that there's going to be a third movie by 2026.

Honestly? It's still hard for me to think about it. Too little material to work with here. As far as I know/remember, Rex isn't allowed to show up in the movies, which leaves a big question mark as to what they're going to do with dinos at all. If Rex will be allowed to show up, that's one less thing to worry about and I'd be happy because he's the sweetest boy ever and deserves all love in the world, unlike what he's getting with that badly made toy with his car lazily painted and not having not even a single sticker, not to mention how Rex himself is badly painted too. What they did to him there is disgusting. He deserves so much better.

I can't think what pup they'd focus on either. A dinosaur setting is too wide of an idea and they can literally do anything with it. I'm the kind of person who prefers to sit down, be patient and wait for what they'll let out before I start creating expectations.

Not to mention that, when I decide to trust a studio, I avoid checking EVEN THE TRAILERS to not see ANYTHING about the movie, so I can be completely surprised in the cinema. I did that for both Sonic The Hedgehog movies so far - no regrets, best experiences of my cinema life, to go totally "blind" into the cine room, not knowing what was to come, because (knowing the names of who were working in these movies) I had faith they'd make it be awesome and I was sure I'd be happy. And happy I was- both times, I left the cine room CRYING AND SCREAMING so excited I was with what I had just watched.

Since I really liked both Paw Patrol movies so far, I might do the same for the third movie - avoid watching the trailer once it's out and go into the cinema without a fucking clue on what's to come. It helps me to not create expectations which might end up crushed and make me upset. Without expectations to be crushed, anything that comes will be greatly appreciated by me and I prefer it that way!!

[kraken17]

Godzillathon - The Showa Era

This month I started a Godzillathon, a series of reviews of all the King of the Monsters movies from Toho Studios. In my Letterboxd you have the reviews with more detail (in Spanish), but since I just finished with the Showa era, I thought I'd share some brief comments here.

Godzilla (1954) - ★★★★★ (10/10)

The original. An undisputed classic. A masterpiece. Terrifying, embracing its idea of the monster as a metaphor for the horror of the atomic bomb and its consequences. Top 5 of the whole kaiju eiga genre.

Godzilla Raids Again (1955) - ★★ (4/10)

In hardly less than a year we went from metaphorical horror to the most generic monster mash. It wouldn't be a problem if it weren't so bland/boring. Tremendous downgrade. Anguirus is cool, though.

King Kong vs. Godzilla (1963) - ★★★ (6/10)

Basically a Kong movie with Godzilla as a guest antagonist (the real villain is capitalism). It has things that have aged very badly (the racial representation and use of blackface) and unbalanced pacing. It is saved by its last ten minutes. The US cut adds extra hilarity.

Mothra vs. Godzilla (1964) - ★★★★ (8/10)

Mothra is made of awesomeness. Godzilla is a charismatic asshole. Once again, the real villain is capitalism. The main metaphor gives way  now to a satire of the Japanese economic boom of the 1960s and its ecological impact. Fun from start to finish.

Ghidorah, the Three-Headed Monster (1964) - ★★★½ (7/10)

We lose the satire and social commentary, but we gain an iconic villain and embrace space opera and sci-fi without qualms. Fun monster mash and Godzilla's first step in his transition to an anti-hero status. He's still a jerk, but he's our jerk.

Invasion of Astro-Monster (1965) - ★★★ (6/10)

The spectacle wins out over any subtext, which has all but disappeared. It introduces what will be a recurring element of alien invaders making use of giant monsters. Memorable for being overall a fun film and perhaps the craziest of what we've seen so far, but not much more. Also, Godzilla dances.

Ebirah, Horror of the Deep (1966) - ★★½ (5/10)

Originally a Kong movie rewritten for Godzilla and it shows. Tropical jungle island adventure. Villains that could come out of a Bond movie. Godzilla in full heroic mode. GIANT LOBSTER. Fun, but doesn't leave much of a lasting impression, although Ebirah has its fans.

Son of Godzilla (1967) - ★★ (4/10)

Not as horribly bad as I feared, but not a good movie. Horrible design decisions, unremarkable antagonists (except for the giant spider because it’s a giant spider), and abusive monster parenting. It tries to squeeze in a bit of environmental commentary, but it's dull and infantilizing.

Destroy All Monsters (1968) - ★★★ (6/10)

The Avengers of the franchise. I wanted to like this movie more than I did. Two very uneven first and second acts of a story with a recycled plot (aliens + monsters under mind control) saved by a resolution that is memorable as fuck. You almost feel sorry for Ghidorah. Almost.

All Monsters Attack (1969) - ★½ (3/10)

The absolute low point of the franchise. It's like a bad dream/recap episode. Tries to do some slice of life with the monsters as a metaphor for childhood anxieties in a plot that shoehorns gratuitous kidnappings into it. Good intention but disastrous execution.

Godzilla vs. Hedorah (1971) - ★★★★ (8/10)

A return to form! Hedorah is an excellent metaphor for uncontrolled pollution and contamination. A bit dissonant, with Godzilla as a kid friendly hero (he flies!) in a terrifying plot, with body horror, human casualties in large numbers and an apocalyptic feeling. And that poor kitty...

Godzilla vs. Gigan (1972) - ★★★ (6/10)

Recycled plot of aliens (cockroaches!) using a giant monster. AGAIN. But it's fun and Gigan is memorable as one of Toho's most extravagant kaiju designs: anthropomorphic alien chicken with cool visor instead of eyes and knives. How many knives? All the knives.

Godzilla vs. Megalon (1973) - ★★ (4/10)

What the fuck. Total drift to Saturday morning cartoon standards, but poorly done. It's basically a pilot episode for Jet Jaguar, which is endearingly crappy. The plot? The usual, but swap aliens for ancient underwater civilization. Godzilla looks almost too adorable. Note, it actually has a message: nuclear testing is bad.

Godzilla vs. Mechagodzilla (1974) - ★★★½ (7/10)

Twentieth anniversary and introduction of an iconic villain! And the plot... Guess what the plot is? Take a fucking guess. The aliens are now gorillas, just because. At least it's well executed, it's good fun. Also, King Caesar. I like King Caesar, even though he feels like a discount version of Mothra at times. Surprisingly gory in the fights.

Terror of Mechagodzilla (1975) - ★★★½ (7/10)

Direct sequel to the previous one. The end of the Showa era is a fun but a bit uneven film. Too much focus on a boring Titanosaurus (one of Toho's blandest kaiju designs). Good balance of monster fights and a human plot with touches of humanism and trans-humanism, and a tragic sacrificial ending.

[beaniebaneenie]

Also, he totally misses the other Quantity vs Quality problem: there's too many damn movies to actually put any significant quality into any of them.

The early MCU films were good stories. They were driven by character and heart and made people actually care about the characters.

But even before the pandemic started (because it's not fucking over yet, no matter how badly capitalism wants us to pretend that it is), the quality of MCU films was dropping. We just had other things going on that kinda distracted us from that fact.

But once the plague hit, and everyone turned to entertainment because there was nothing else to fucking DO anymore, we started to notice that the quality wasn't quite as good as it used to be.

And unfortunately, that happened to coincide with a giant drop in quality. MCU was spitting out movies faster than we could count them, let alone watch them, and then there were TV shows too, and it became entirely about how much money they could make, instead of being about telling a good story that mattered.

And consumers are experiencing "Marvel Burnout", because there's so many fucking things to watch, and because the quality of the STORY has also tanked hard, there's little to no payoff for slogging through it.

It's dead obvious that the studio's only motivation is a cash grab, and no one gives a shit anymore.

Even for characters we already loved, because it's clear that the amount of executives involved is a) stupid, and b) totally focused on the wrong things, and c) have absolutely no respect for the source material... even their own canon.

You don't need more executives. You just need ones who care about the right stuff.

Tell a good story that respects the characters, and give your cast and crew the tools and time they need to do their job.

Yes, that's it! Bob Iger, you mad genius!

[randomshyperson]

Love is Outside the Screen - Part III - Elizabeth Olsen x Reader

Summary:  The one where Reader plays Vision in the MCU and she falls in love with her co-worker Elizabeth Olsen.

Warnings: (+18), smut, sexual themes, strap on use, teasing, fingering, sexual suggestions, explicit language, explicit, obscenity, a bit of praise kink, dom/sub dynamics, bottom reader mostly, switch dynamics, power dynamic changes, slight possessive sex, brief angst, alcohol mentions, arguing, jealously, fluffy.

Words: 7.935 K

A/N> Instead of writing my series, I'm continuing works that were finished already. This is basically porn honestly haha No, but jokes aside, we have fluffy moments with a lot of smut. Good reading everyone!

Part One | Part Two | All Works Masterlist || AO3

//-//-/////-///-//

Love is Outside the Screen - Part III

Northern Ireland, two years ago.

You slipped under the long wooden table as the script indicated.

Your character was supposed to give a slight nod, and then gasp because of the torso injury, and you followed the script perfectly.

When the director yells cut, you stand up, trying not to bump into the makeover they did on your clothes.

"That was great, guys!" Shouted Alex Graves in the direction of the cast scattered around the medieval set. "Let's call it a day."

You were exhausted.

The Game of Thrones footage was absolutely grueling, and time-consuming, although it allowed you to learn something new with almost every scene.

Walking back toward the dressing room to clean up your makeup, you smiled shyly at the girls in the salon who congratulated you on the day's performance while helping you to remove your costume.

While they were going through your hair, you decided to check your cell phone.

There were two missed calls from Lizzie, and you felt your heart swell with guilt immediately.

She had also sent you messages asking if everything was okay, or if you were busy, and saying that she missed you, and you wish you had answered them all, but your routine had been completely absurd.

You felt your chest ache with longing every time you thought of your girlfriend.

When you signed the contract, you knew the conditions, and so did Lizzie. But nothing prepared you for the real thing.

Almost three months without a decent conversation, not even video calls, and the lack of her in your life was making you frustrated and irritated all the time. You were sinking into the screenplay and the recordings, because you simply hated not having Lizzie in your day-to-day life.

"Thank you girls." You said as soon as you noticed the makeup completely removed from your abdomen.

The change in the script killed your character sooner than expected, and you should go home early, even though it was going to take two or three months, it was much less than originally planned.

Grumbling softly, you went back to the dressing room, deciding to call Lizzie now that you would have a little time alone.

She doesn't answer until the second-to-last ring.

"Yes?" Her husky voice signals that she was asleep, but all you can feel is your body shaking at the sound.

"It's me, baby." You reply tenderly as you sit back in the armchair, pressing the cell phone to your ear as if you wish you could reach into the device and touch your girl.

"Oh, hey." She comments sleepily, and you wonder if she has closed her eyes again, or even opened them. "It's late."

"I know, I'm sorry." You say leaning back in the armchair. "I wanted to check that everything was okay because I couldn't answer you earlier."

"Don't worry, darling." She says softly, almost sleepily. "I just missed you."

"Me too, my love." You assure her, feeling your chest tighten slightly. My god, you just want to see her, hold her, touch her. "Lizzie, darling, are you asleep?"

"Yes." She whispers, making you smile.

"I love you baby." You say. "Call me when you wake up, I will interrupt as many scenes as it takes to talk to you."

"Behave yourself in the studio, love." She mumbles sleepily, and you laugh lightly. It was the same warning she gave on your last day in California, on the way out of the airport. "I love you. And I miss you."

You cursed the entire movie company at once when you could perceive the upset in Lizzie's tone, even in her sleepy state. You repeated that you loved her one more time before hanging up the phone.

As you put your cell phone away to grab your keys and head back to the hotel, you wondered if a breach of contract was really so bad.

//-//

Present, California.

You felt Lizzie's arms wrap around you as soon as you made mention of getting out of bed. You smiled, turning your body to look at her.

Her sleeping figure with her eyes closed, her hair slightly tousled made your heart warm with affection.

You loved her so much.

Raising your hand to her face, you stroked her cheek gently with your thumb, and watched the woman sigh softly, and even in her sleepy state, lean into your touch.

"Lizzie." You called softly, trying to wake her up. And did so again until she mumbled softly, leaning her face against the pillow. You let your hand wander to her hair, enjoying the softness as you stroked her scalp with your fingers. "We need to wake up baby."

Lizzie just mumbled again against the pillow cotton, making you smile at the cuteness of that scene.

You moved closer only to deposit short kisses across her face, and only stopped when she let out a husky giggle.

"Good morning, love." You whispered against her ear, and were about to pull away, but she tightened her arms around your waist, keeping you almost on top of her, making you smile.

"Good morning." She sighed back against the skin of your neck, and you blushed slightly when you felt her inhale your perfume and then tighten her fingers around your waist. "Fuck, I love you."

You laughed softly at her sudden, hoarse confession, but let your arms slip around her shoulders, burying your body against Lizzie's. The tenderness was wonderful, and she moved one hand up to caress your back while the other remained on your hip, her thumb moving across the skin beneath your blouse.

You tilt your face away just to look at her, and already you find her with her eyes wide open, a shy smile on her lips.

"I love you too, babe, but we need to get up." You tell her, and you almost get the impression that she's not even listening, because all she does is look at your face with adoration.

You bite back a smile as you feel her legs move beneath you, her bare foot caressing your ankle before she spins you around quickly and stands over you, the sudden movement making you sigh and tighten your arms intertwined around her neck.

"Lizzie!" You exclaim humorously, but all you get is a low murmur as she sinks her body against yours and buries her face in your neck.

"How much time do we have?" She asks against your skin, her lips dangling on that sensitive part of your collarbone and sending a shiver up the length of your spine.

"Enough." You reply already affected by her touch, closing your eyes to enjoy the sensation.

Lizzie smiles against your neck, beginning to deposit chaste kisses against your skin, making you sigh softly.

It didn't matter how many times you had been together or for how long, your body reacted to her in the same way. You only hoped that you wouldn't be late for your appointment with the Marvel directors, but when Lizzie slipped her hand up into your pajamas, you didn't care about that anymore.

//-//-//

London, 1 year and 9 months ago.

It's your third time on "The Graham Norton Show."

You finished taping Game of Thrones the day before, and this was your last appointment before returning to California. To Lizzie.

Part of the cast is sitting next to you, and you are glad for that because you are distracted this evening and can use the time they answer questions to think about your girlfriend. And you miss her for sure.

Graham, the host, asked questions about the final season, and about day to day life on set, and after Kit Harington and Emilia Clarke commented on everything being amazing, and not telling anything about the plot since they weren't allowed to, you were slightly surprised that the subject shift went directly to the romance rumors between the cast.

"I hear that some of you have been becoming close friends outside the set." Graham begins with a chuckle, and you and the cast share a chorus of dissatisfaction that makes the audience laugh. "Which is normal in a long series of course. But we wanted to bring that in because we love gossip."

"Since I'm married, can I have a drink in the dressing room?" Kit jokes, drawing laughter from everyone.

"You're supposed to help us with the arguments". Graham replies humorously. He leans back in his chair slightly to point to the monitor behind him. "We have some behind-the-scenes photos here. And Miss Clarke looks very comfortable."

The audience laughed at the comment, and you tried to cover it up with an awkward laugh. It was a picture of Emilia Clarke, your colleague who plays Daenerys Targaryen, on your lap. But the moment was badly misinterpreted. The photo was taken right after one of the prom rehearsal scenes, and Emilia had gotten one of the coordinations wrong, and you laughed when she fell on you.

Of course, this kind of insinuation was happening because to the media, you two were two single women. And you were used to this kind of questioning, but still, it was always uncomfortable.

"We were dancing, Graham." Emilia argues humorously. "It's not what it looks like."

The audience lets out a chorus of disappointment, and you and Emilia giggle awkwardly.

"Was that the mating dance, ladies?" Graham teases and you want to dig a hole in the ground, but all you do is keep up with everyone's laughter. "Despite all the jokes, I think Marvel's couple is going to be threatened."

The comment makes your heart race, but the audience is very approving, applauding heartily.

At least with this you can talk about Elizabeth.

"Is tonight the night you are going to take over America's dream relationship or can we just keep saying that you and Emilia are together, since there is not the slightest chance that someone that attractive is single." Graham tells you with humor making the audience and cast laugh. You try to keep up, not wanting to seem rude. You wish you could tell him that there is nothing wrong with being single, but you don't think you want to create an awkwardness so you just settle back in your seat as you joke:

"Unfortunately I will deny it again, Graham" You reply. "And I'm not dating Emilia either, I assure you."

You spend the rest of the evening dodging the comments, and are exhausted by the time the interview is over.

"Hey, are you going back to the hotel already?" Kit asks you just as you walk back to the dressing rooms, and you deny it with your head.

"No chance, I'm leaving." You reply. "I'm going straight to the airport, I have a flight in two hours. What about you, Harington? Aren't you going home to see your wife?"

"I didn't know we were talking about wives." He jokes making you blush and look away. Kit didn't know about Lizzie, but he knew you had someone. "Of course I want to come home, but I still have some appointments here. And Rose is in Spain."

"That sucks, man." You comment and he murmurs in agreement, shrugging.

"Yeah, but longing sure makes the sex better." He retorts with amusement and you grimace before laughing.

"You're unbelievable." You joke before waving yourself off in farewell, turning in the direction of your dressing room.

As soon as you enter, you take your cell phone out of your pocket and try to call Lizzie, but it goes to voicemail. You leave a message saying that you can't wait to see her and get your things ready to leave.

After saying goodbye to the cast again, and taking a taxi to the airport, you receive a message, but it is not from Lizzie.

*Sara evil agent* sent you an attachment.

You frown at the matter. "Off-screen romance? Would GOT star Emilia Clarke be dating queer Marvel protégé?"

You call Sara the same minute.

"I literally said I wasn't dating her!" You complain as soon as she answers and hear Sara laugh on the other end.

"Oh, honey, I told you, the media loves a little gossip." She says. "And you need to stop setting up fake girlfriends so quickly, I can barely keep up."

You grumble in irritation and your agent lets out a giggle.

"Don't be so grumpy, it's just a rumor and the last time I checked you were a single woman so I don't see a problem." She says and you bite the inside of your cheek. Since your lack of excitement about GOT, Sara suspects something. Neither of you says anything, but you know she's not an idiot and figures you have a girlfriend. "Are you going back to LA already?"

"Yes, I'm catching my flight in an hour."

"I hope you're ready to record, Lady Vision." She jokes. "Your scene schedule is getting closer."

"I plan to rest this week." You warn, slightly distracted. "Game of Thrones really was something different."

"I just hope people like the ending."

You giggle and Sara wants to know why, but you don't give her any spoilers. After asking if everything was okay, and assuring her that you had eaten something before the interview, you hang up.

Lizzie didn't text you back and you fell asleep on the plane.

//-//-//-//-//

California, three years and eleven months ago.

Your heart was beating so fast that you could hear it in your ears.

But Lizzie's hand in yours was doing a good job of calming you down.

Maybe it was just because you had waited, or maybe it was because you were so much in love, but you don't remember feeling so nervous about the idea of having sex with someone. Not since your first time.

And well, now with Lizzie, it was actually only the first time you two were going to sleep together. You didn't have to be nervous, but you were.

Liz opened the bedroom door as soon as you two reached the room, and dragged you inside with her. You closed the wood as you entered.

The tension was palpable in the air, and you wondered if you stayed still long enough, she might hear your heartbeat.

You looked at her, your eyes locked on each other, and a shy smile on your lips as you approached, stopping inches from her body.

Lizzie holds her breath.

"Are you nervous?" You ask in a husky voice, raising your free hand to go around the length of her arm with your finger, admiring the way her skin shivers at your touch.

She just shakes her head and you smile, resting your hand on her cheek.

"It's just me." You comment as you lean your forehead against hers, and you both close your eyes in anticipation. "We can stop if you're not sure..."

"I'm sure." She interrupts half breathlessly, her hand tightening its grip before letting go of yours, so that she brings both hands to the sides of your neck. "Are you sure?"

"Yes." You assure before breaking the distance, bringing your mouths together in a firm kiss that draws a sigh from both of you as your hands move up to Lizzie's waist.

It doesn't take long for the kiss to deepen, your tongues fighting together and the sensation making your head spin and your body heat up.

Lizzie gasped against your mouth before parting for breath, and you used the opportunity to let your fingers run down to the hem of her shirt as you pulled it up. In motion the piece was off, and she copied the same to remove your blouse.

You bit your lip as you looked at the sight of Lizzie's exposed torso in front of you, her nipples hardening in the air making you feel the tightness beneath your stomach increase.

You lunged forward, grabbing her left breast with your mouth, and Lizzie let out a loud noise in her throat, throwing her head back as your tongue skirted her left nipple.

She was so hot and smelled so good, and the sounds she was making were driving you insane.

You moved your hands up to her breasts as soon as you brought your mouths together again, your tongue circling hers as you played with her hardened nipples, and it wasn't long before Lizzie began to whimper, closing her legs and thrusting her hips towards yours for more friction.

You smiled against her lips, you would give her exactly what she needed.

//-//

California, one year and nine months ago.

Leaving your keys on the counter, you were surprised by the silence as you entered.

It wasn't that you wanted Lizzie to stay late to wait for you, except that it was exactly what you wanted.

You left your bag on the living room floor and called her name twice before assuming she was asleep.

Sighing slightly, you went up the stairs to your room, but it was empty. All the other rooms were empty, which made you frown.

Okay, you didn't expect Elizabeth not to be home just the day you were returning, after months of not seeing each other.

But you didn't have much time to think about what might have happened, because a clearly drunk Lizzie stumbled into the house, fighting against the lock and her own balance just as you were coming down the stairs.

"You're drunk?" You ask in a voice in a mixed tone of disbelief and concern upon seeing her, and Lizzie is startled for a moment before giggling.

"Look who's here, California!" She announced to the room with irony and with open arms, stumbling inside. "Hollywood's most eligible bachelorette, watch out ladies and gentlemen."

You frowned at the little scene, Lizzie walked with difficulty to the kitchen as you finished going down the steps, she murmured quietly and you with your arms crossed, trying to understand exactly what was going on.

"What happened to you?" you ask as you follow her across the room, Lizzie takes off her shoes with difficulty, almost falling to the floor at least twice. When you make mention of helping her, she holds up her hand for you not to, and you are starting to get worried.

"I went to have fun." She replies with a humorless laugh. "I can have fun."

"Of course you can." You retorted with a raised eyebrow, watching Lizzie take a deep breath and close her eyes as she leaned her back on the countertop, probably getting a headache from the way she buried her face in both hands for a moment. "Who did you go with?"

"I don't know, Mom." She sneered wryly, and you clenched your jaw. Lizzie laughed at your expression, and pouted. "Oh, did I upset you? Sorry, darling, I'll try to be a good girl for you."

You shook your head slightly.

"Babe, what is happ..."

"Don't call me that." She cuts off quickly and you look at her in surprise. Lizzie closes her eyes and takes a deep breath and when she looks at you again, she has thick tears in her eyes and you feel your heart soar. "I saw the pictures on television, Y/N. I saw the pictures, I saw your interview, I saw the videos on instagram. And I guess I understand, because she's beautiful and we haven't seen each other in months but I thought you loved me..."

"wow, what are you talking about?" You interrupt, confused and frightened, and Lizzie looks like a complete mess. She is crying and you reach up to touch her face, and try to calm her down. "Babe, breathe, I don't understand."

She whimpers softly, and you wonder how much booze she really has consumed.

"You are going out with that woman and I love you and everything is horrible." She declares in a whiny voice and you look at her with a frown.

"Lizzie, what..."

But she pushes you and walks off toward the bedroom, and you try to keep her from falling over drinking at least three times until she can get up the stairs properly.

"Lizzie, wait, talk to me." You beg but she keeps walking and you enter the bedroom a moment after her, watching her walk to the closet and start throwing all her clothes out while mumbling about cheating.

You take a deep breath with your hands on your waist, letting out a humorless laugh. It was an absurd scene to say the least.

"Elizabeth Olsen, stop this immediately!" You command as soon as she steps out of the closet, and she widens her eyes slightly as she shifts the weight of her feet before veering to the floor. You sigh as you walk toward her. "Babe, look at me."

"No."

"Lizzie."

Reluctantly, she does so. You soften your expression, feeling your heart soar at the image of her face, longing invading your whole heart.

"God, I missed you." You confess half breathlessly and Lizzie looks on the verge of tears. "Darling, where did all this come from? I'm not seeing any other girl."

"I saw the pictures..."

"Lizzie." You interrupt seriously, shaking your head slightly as your hands land on her shoulders. "I have no one but you. I would never cheat on you, I don't know where that came from. I wish you hadn't drunk so much so we could have a serious talk."

Lizzie gives a mischievous little smile, her gaze half lost because of the alcohol.

"I'm not drunk." She mumbles clearly intoxicated, making you chuckle slightly.

"Of course not." You said as you pushed the loose strands of her hair behind her ears. "You made a mess in the bedroom, babe. Why don't you try to sleep while I clean up?"

Lizzie sighed, clearly tired but shaking her head in denial

"I don't want to sleep." She said as she brought her body closer to you, her hands squeezing your shirt. "I want you to fuck me."

You bit back a smile, looking at Lizzie with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh, yeah?"

She murmured in agreement, her fingers trying to open the buttons of your shirt, but she was clearly in no condition to do so.

"I'd like that too, but you're drunk." You say as you move your hands to hold hers, smiling at the grumble of frustration she lets out. "Go lie down, I'll get some water."

"But..."

"Bed, Lizzie." You ordered again as you intertwined your hands to lead her to lie down.

She was reluctant a few times but eventually agreed and lay her down on the mattress, placing the comforter on top.

When you made mention of getting up, she held your hand.

"Don't go." She asked softly with her eyes almost closed. You smiled.

"Aren't you thirsty?"

Lizzie denied and pulled your hand, you moved closer to lie beside her and she wasted no time in entwining her body in yours.

You let your fingers run through her hair and she sighed lightly, not taking long to fall asleep. You waited a few more minutes before moving, getting out of bed as gently as possible so as not to wake her.

After collecting the clothes Lizzie had thrown across the room and putting them away in the closet, as well as putting the party clothes she was wearing in the wash, you went back downstairs, looking for your bag to take to your room.

Your cell phone vibrated as you walked up the stairs.

It was a message from Scarlet, and you laughed lightly as you read its content.

“I heard you're coming home today, right? Lizzie was really upset about the rumors that you were dating, and asked me to take her out for a drink. I dropped her off at home, but she was pretty shaky. I didn't know you two had a thing, can we talk about it over coffee tomorrow?”

You were relieved that Scarlett was the person accompanying Lizzie, but now she knew you two had something. You were tired of it honestly. The secret. All you wanted was for everyone to know how much you loved Lizzie. And judging from recent events, that was a problem for her too. Or at least it was enough for her to drink more than she should.

But you would have to wait until Lizzie woke up to have this conversation, so you went back to your room, and after putting away the clothes from your bag, you took a shower and put on your pajamas, wasting no time in joining Lizzie in bed again.

//-//-//

Caribbean, one year and six months ago.

Following the music, you continued to dance slowly, your hand around Lizzie's waist while the other was entwined in the air with hers.

The luxury hotel where you were staying that week was hosting a Hawaiian themed evening, and well, after spending the day in the pool area, you decided to dance a little.

In that moment, with Lizzie in your arms, you were at peace completely. Moments like these, like waking up with her in your bed, or cooking together, or rehearsing your lines while curled up on the couch under the blanket were more than enough to make you sure that you wanted to spend the rest of your life with Lizzie.

You smiled before pulling your body away slightly, just to look at her. And she looked back at you with the same adoration, her cheeks flushing slightly.

You spun her into your arms then, making her laugh as you pulled her back, your hands resting on her neck as your hips swayed to the rhythm of the ukulele of the band playing on the stage.

There were a few other couples around, but you could hardly notice anyone but Lizzie.

You continued dancing, and you rested your forehead on hers, closing your eyes and breathing in her perfume. Lizzie smiled, stealing a quick kiss before resting her chin on your shoulder, following the rhythm of the dance.

When the show ends, you follow the crowd in the clapping for a moment before Lizzie entwines your hands and pulls you toward the bar.

"That was fun." She comments with cheeks flushed from the dance, her smile soft as you stand near each other, your hands intertwined as you reach for the menu.

"Dancing with you always is." You retorted charmingly, releasing her hand only to fit it against your waist, drawing a chuckle from Lizzie.

You ended up sharing some drinks and snacks, and you were starting to feel higher with each sip.

Lizzie was in the middle of a joke when you interrupted her.

"Marry me?"

She blinked in surprise, a confused chuckle escaping her lips.

"What?"

Maybe it was the drinking. Probably not, because with the emerald eyes looking so intently, you suddenly felt very sober. Your heart raced too, but you were never more sure of anything than you were now.

"Marry me." You repeat with a confident smile. Lizzie blushes with wide eyes.

"You... Are you serious?" She asks in surprise, and you let out a sigh, moving closer to take her hands and put them down on your racing heart.

"I love you." You tell her with nothing but sincerity. "I want to spend my life with you. I was planning something bigger, perhaps, at your parents' summer house. I would get down on one knee in front of your family and hand over the ring I've been carrying for three months." You confess and watch her look at you in shock. "I've been waiting for the right moment, Lizzie. But I've just realized that every second with you is the right moment. I want you to be my wife. Do you want me to be yours?"

It took a second for her to react, her expression changing from shock to pure happiness, the tears appearing in her eyes and the smile so big it made her eyes small.

"Yes, yes, of course." She replied between one shy laugh and another, moving forward to kiss you over and over again.

You couldn't stop smiling as you kissed her, and you giggled against each other's mouths, pulling apart to embrace each other.

It didn't take long for the people around the bar to notice and start clapping, but you didn't care.

All you were seeing was your future wife.

//-//-//-//

California, 1 year and 9 months ago.

You finished putting the coffee jug on the tray, the last missing item, before carrying it to your room, taking careful steps not to trip over anything on the way.

Lizzie was already awake, but still in bed. The glass of water in her hands and the missing pill on her bedside table indicated that she was already treating her hangover.

"Good morning, darling." You greeted as you entered, walking over to the bed to leave the platter on top of the sheet next to Lizzie.

"You're home." She commented in a mixture of surprise and embarrassment, you just made a noise with your mouth as she sighed, running her hand over her face, probably because of her headache. "When did you get home?"

"Last night." You respond by watching her. "Just before you."

"Sorry." She says moving closer. You gently pull away from her attempt to kiss her lips, and Lizzie frowns. "What?"

"I was worried." You state seriously. Lizzie lets out a sigh, leaning her back against the bed completely. "I thought you were going to pick me up at the airport, but you didn't call. And then I find the house empty. Until you arrived, completely drunk at dawn."

Lizzie crossed her arms, looking away. It was your turn to sigh.

"What's happening, Elizabeth?"

"It 's nothing."

"Elizabeth."

"Stop it." She asks impatiently, turning her face to you again. "Don't call me that."

You just frown in confusion. "It's your name."

"No." She exclaims annoyedly, closing her eyes for a moment. "You only call me Elizabeth when you're angry. And you can't be angry at me because I have the right to go out!"

You watch her stand up, as if running away from the conversation, and you sigh impatiently, massaging your temple with your finger. Lizzie begins to remove her dress, clearly intent on going to take a shower.

"I never said you had no right to go out, Elizabeth." You retort ignoring the annoyed grunt she lets out at you continuing to call her by her full name. "I just think I have the right to ask why after we agreed on something, you changed plans at the last minute and decided to disappear."

"It's funny that you want to demand something from me when you've spent the last few months without giving me any satisfaction of where or who you were with!" She accuses angrily and you grimace in indignation.

"Oh, so it's about my work?" You retort angrily. "The last time I checked we had decided that I was going to record and come home. You said you were fine with that!"

Lizzie gave a humorless laugh, her dress falling to her feet as she worked to remove her bra.

"Well, you know what, I wasn't!" She shouts angrily, throwing the bra angrily into the closet. You need to remember that you are angry with her as you have the vision of her breasts exposed in front of you while she is yelling at you. "I didn't agree to the endless get-togethers with all those sluts around you! And I sure didn't agree with your flushed face on television flirting with Emilia Clarke in front of the whole country!"

You stared at Lizzie in shock, but she just grunted in irritation before turning to go to the bathroom.

"No, I think it's so funny you bring that up, you know, Elizabeth." You spoke aloud as you stood up to follow her. "Because when I said Aubrey Plaza was flirting with you, you told me it was just business. But suddenly, Emilia is something that bothers you!"

"God, this is so different from Aubrey!" she retorts in irritation, finally naked, before stepping into the shower. You were beginning to find it hard to remember why you were fighting now that you had the view of her wet silhouette in the shower stall, as she raised her voice to be heard beyond the sound of the water. "We were supposed to be flirting in the interviews, it was all for the movie. You were just falling all over Emilia for no reason. All those smiles and giggles." She declares angrily, making you bite back a smile. Lizzie naked, angry and jealous was hot as hell.

"I really can't believe we are having this conversation." You complain as you unbutton your pajama shirt. "The most absurd part of it all is you thinking I would have anything with anyone else."

"You say these things but don't live up to them with your actions." She retorts, annoyed. "I wouldn't think anything of it if you didn't flirt with other people!"

"I didn't flirt with anyone!" You return defensively, your blouse finally coming off. Lizzie's annoyed expression almost falters, but she keeps her gaze above your breasts as you take off your pants. "And honestly, none of this would be happening if everyone knew we were dating!"

Lizzie frowns, her anger finally dissipating with your sentence. You step into the shower stall with her, and she looks at you dubiously.

"You...you want to go public?" She asks, studying you as the water falls on her back. You swallow dryly, keeping yourself in front of her.

"Only if you want to."

Lizzie holds out her hand for you to take, and when you do, she pulls you gently until your breasts are almost touching.

"Do you think we're ready for that?" She whispers as your foreheads lean against each other. You sigh as you rest your hands on her waist.

"With you, I'm ready for anything, Lizzie."

She sighs against your lips, her hands moving up to your neck.

"I can't think about that with you naked in front of me." She mumbles before moving forward against his lips.

Kissing shouldn't feel this good.

You slide your tongue over hers a moment later, and you both sigh in need, feeling the effects of so much time apart. Your hands move down to her ass, squeezing the flesh and forcing her against you, and the direct contact of exposed skin makes Lizzie whimper.

You press her against the glass of the shower stall, feeling the shower water against your back as you hold your mouths together in a passionate, hungry kiss.

When air was needed, you ran your kisses down your girlfriend's exposed collarbone, enjoying the way she sighed in anticipation, her hand moving up to the back of your neck to encourage you.

"God, I missed you." You sighed before sucking on the sensitive spot on her collarbone, making Lizzie whimper as she dug her nails into your shoulder.

She pulled your face back to hers, kissing you urgently, and you pressed your body against hers, your hands moving down to her thighs and up so that she entwined her legs around your waist.

The contact of your exposed intimates together made you both gasp in the kiss, but you slid your tongue against hers again, savoring her taste as your hands moved up to her breasts, squeezing and cupping them with a full palm, your fingers playing with her hardened nipples and making Lizzie sigh wetly.

"What is it baby?" you teased when she was unable to keep up the pace of the kiss, throwing her head back as she felt your hands pressing her breasts hard, and Lizzie grunted as she bit her lips to keep from moaning, looking up at you with dark eyes, clearly struggling to keep her expression impassive. You smiled, pressing your hips forward and watching her close her eyes tightly, unable to contain a low moan that escaped her throat. "I want to hear you, baby."

"I'm still mad at you." She declares in an affected voice, and you murmur in understanding, lowering your face to her collarbone, and licking and kissing the skin, making her shiver.

"Is this angry sex, then?" You sneer as you move your hips forward again, the sensation bringing a rising wave of pleasure to both of you. "It doesn't seem like it."

Lizzie sighs impatiently, and puts her legs on the floor, pushing you away by your shoulder.

You are so stunned by the sudden break in contact that you barely have time to absorb her turning off the shower before she pulls you by the hand out of the stall.

You were about to ask what she was going to do, but she pushed you onto the bed, and disappeared into the closet.

"Lizzie?" You called out uncertainty, preparing your apology speech for what exactly you couldn't say. But she walked out next, and the sight made your mouth go dry. "Damn."

Elizabeth was wearing a strap-on, the rubber penis already fitted in the front and ready for use. And from the determined expression on her face, she was more than willing to prove to you that she was pissed.

"Fuck me." You breathed aroused by the view, and Lizzie gave a wry chuckle as she approached the bed.

"Oh, I will." It was her only warning before she broke the distance, kissing you fervently, her tongue exploring your mouth and pulling the air from your lungs, making you see stars.

You let out a low moan, moving your hands up to her waist to pull her to you, but Lizzie pushed your hands away, breaking the kiss and moving one hand up to your neck, squeezing lightly as she made you look at her.

"Knees, ass up." She commanded in a husky voice, her gaze glittering with lust, you bit your lips to keep from moaning again, feeling your pussy pulsate with desire as you obeyed, turning on the bed quickly as Lizzie positioned herself behind you. "I'll teach you not to flirt with other girls."

"I was n-fuck." Your speech turned into an horsy whimper as she suddenly penetrated you with the dildo, you were so wet that she had no problem at all, the toy slipping into your folds with ease, filling you completely. Lizzie chuckled breathlessly, her hands steadying your hips.

"God, you're so hot." She murmured, moving slowly inside you, the action making you clench your fists in the sheets and arch your back, your pussy clenching against the dildo.

"Fuck, Lizzie."

She thrust again, this time hard, her hands squeezing your hips as she went deep inside, making you moan loudly.

Before establishing a rhythm, she leaned against you, her hand coming up to your hair and pulling you back as she brought her mouth to your ear.

"You are mine." She whispered before she thrust hard inside you, making you moan. "Do you understand?"

"Not quite yet, try harder." You teased breathlessly, the pleasure at having the dildo all the way inside you making you half dizzy. Lizzie grunted angrily, this time stroking even harder, making you see stars as you whimpered, your body beginning to tremble.

"Quit being a brat or I'm going to fucking stop." She warned against your ear, thrusting more slowly this time, and you moaned breathlessly, barely able to keep your eyes open.

Lizzie set a slow pace, but thrusting hard as you moaned and whimpered, every time the dildo entered you making you even wetter and aroused, to the point that you were unable to hold back the loud moans, and she giggled.

"Look at you, a horny, begging mess." She sneered against your ear. "You are mine, and only mine."

She whispered, her strokes deep inside you. "I want you to remember that when you flirt with other girls. How good I make you feel."

You whimpered, your pussy clenching against the dildo for more, Lizzie keeping the strokes torturously slow. Seeing your state, she laughed softly, pulling out of you completely.

Before you had time to complain, she turned you over on the bed, spreading your legs as she bent down, thrusting deep inside you. Your moan died against her lips as she kissed you hard, laying against you as she buried the dildo inside you.

You could feel Lizzie everywhere. Her breasts against you, her lips on yours, and it was too much. She thrust hard again, deep and fast as you had your legs around her waist, and her tongue on yours, and you began to tremble in spasms, pleasure spreading throughout your body.

Lizzie smiled against your lips as you lost the ability to respond to the kiss, moaning and whimpering at the closeness of your climax. Her mouth moved down to your neck as she kept up the pace of the thrusts inside you, and your hands tightened around her waist, pulling on her hips for more friction.

It wasn't long before you fell over the edge, the tightness under your belly exploding, the pleasure spreading to the tips of your feet as you moaned against Lizzie's ear, crumbling under her.

As you tried to normalize your breathing after such an intense orgasm, she straightened to look at you, her eyes had adoration in them.

"You did so good." She praised against your lips. "Did you learn your lesson?"

"I did." You replied in a husky voice, taking a deep breath to control the effects of climax.

In one swift motion, you spun you two around on the bed, sighing as you felt the toy move inside you.

"Now you will learn to honor your appointments, Miss Olsen." You warned as your hands moved down to the latches of the strap, removing it as Lizzie bit her lips, looking at you with a mischievous gaze.

You shifted to remove the strap and toss the toy on the floor, returning to sit on Lizzie's lap, your mouth returning to hers immediately.

When she began to move beneath you, you smiled against her lips, pulling away as you rested your forehead against hers and let your fingers play with her wet entrance.

"Use your mouth." She asked breathlessly, her nails digging into your arm.

"My baby wants my mouth?" You teased, moving forward to lick her lips and pulling away with a short laugh when she moaned as she chased your mouth unsuccessfully. You circled her clitoris with your fingers, and Lizzie gasped. "The next time you want to get drunk, at least text me, my love." You warned as you penetrated her with two fingers at once, feeling her hot and slippery, while Lizzie moaned loudly against your mouth. "Do you understand?"

You removed your fingers, playing with her entrance until she nodded frantically, pushing her hips toward your hand. But you laughed lightly, pulling your hand away completely, and leaving her with a confused expression.

"I thought you wanted my mouth." You scoff, already ducking, as Lizzie looks at you expectantly.

"God, you always fuck me so good." Lizzie comments as you kiss her thighs, moving down. You smile against her skin, finally reaching her pussy.

You stare at her before moving forward, your tongue against her clitoris as she sighs with need.

"Don't torture me." She begs breathlessly, her wrists locked on the bed, you smile, lingeringly licking her, and she closes her eyes tightly.

"I won't, my love." You assure her before returning your mouth to her pussy, kissing her entrance before you begin to suck and lick, devouring her with desire.

She moans loudly, letting out affected sighs with each movement of your tongue inside her, and you hold her thighs to keep her open for you as you eat her out.

It doesn't take long for Lizzie to reach her edge, already near the limit from fucking you, but it's still delicious to have her crumbling against your mouth like a weeping mess, her orgasm on your tongue as she screams your name.

You climb your body back up onto her, and kiss her tenderly, unlike anything so far.

Lizzie is trying to control her breathing from the climax, but sighs in satisfaction as she tastes herself on your tongue.

As silence falls over you, you sigh lightly, your hands caressing her face.

"Are we okay, Lizzie?" You ask as you settle down to lie across from each other. She leans into the touch of your hands, as her hands come up to your waist.

"I don't know." She confesses. "But I want us to be."

You smile, using your finger to take a strand of hair from her face and tuck it behind her ear.

"Do you think going public will make us better?"

"I don't want to love you in secret anymore." She says and you feel your heart soar. "Do you understand?"

You smile. "Yes, babe. I feel the same way."

She gives a relieved smile, her gaze passionate. You break the distance, and kiss her gently.

When you break the kiss a moment later, you look quickly at your bodies. "I think we should have this conversation with clothes on." You comment and Lizzie giggles.

"Later. Now I show how much I missed you in my bed." She says before bringing your lips together again.

You certainly wouldn't object to that.

//-//-//

Atlanta, three years ago.

You hesitated at the entrance to the restaurant.

Through the window you could see Lizzie, and all your cast mates, as it was the closing celebration of the WandaVision filming.

You swallowed hard, the object in your pocket suddenly becoming too heavy.

You startled slightly when you felt a hand on your shoulder.

"I guess we're both late, huh?" Kathryn Hahn, your cast mate, remarked gently, putting her car keys away in her pocket clearly having arrived right with you.

You gave her a lopsided smile and she noticed your hesitation, assuming a worried expression.

"Everything okay?" She asked.

You shifted your gaze to the window again, watching Lizzie giggle shyly, her gaze shining slightly. She looked around too, searching, and you knew it was for you.

"Yeah, I just...I was just having a moment of doubt." You say still looking at Lizzie. Kathryn followed your gaze, and smiled, but didn't comment on it.

You sighed, reaching into your pocket and pulling out the object.

"Wow, are you going to...?" Kathryn asked in surprise but you gave a humorless laugh.

"No, I couldn't." You say swallowing dryly, and looking away from the velvet box. "I don't know if I'm ready."

"And when either of us are?" Kat returned, making you smile.

"How did you know you were going to say yes to your husband?" You asked next. Kathryn sighed thoughtfully.

"I didn't." She replied. "There's no way to know until you get asked. But what I did know was that I loved him. And that's what really matters."

You absorbed her words in silence, and then put the box back in your pocket.

"I think she loves me." You say. "That will be enough until I find the right moment."

Kat murmurs in understanding, and then pushes her shoulder against yours lightly.

"Just don't wait too long." She warns with a smile, nodding her head signaling for the two of you to enter the restaurant and join the rest of the team.

When you enter, any thoughts of Lizzie denying your marriage proposal are driven out by the image of her contented smile when she sees you arrive.

//-//-//-//

A/F/N> I'm not even gonna try to say this is the last time i'm continuing this work because at this point, I just know I don't believe my own words anymore haha. Tell me what you think people.

Tag> @imapotatao / @aimezvousbrahms/ @ensorcellme/ @helloalycia || @mionemymind / @abimess / @stephanieromanoff / @yourtaletotell / @tomy5girls / @justagaypanicking / @thegayw1tch / @idek-5 // @myperfectlovepoem // @helloalycia // @ENSORCELLME // @AIMEZVOUSBRAHMS // @drpepperobsessed // @sighsam // @olsensnpm // @sxfwap // @table57 // @madamevirgo // @causeitswhatjesuswouldfreakingdo // @emptysince18x // @xastrydx || @yuhloversxx || @ymzki-haruki || @wouldirunofftheworldsomeday || @lostandsearching || @lezzzbehonesthere || @musicinourlips || @chaekhan || @diaryoflife || @nervoustrack || @aquamarinescarlet || @cristin-rjd || @idamaemann || @fortunatelynerdylight

[weedle-testaburger]

And now, events from Doctor Who’s production history that really sound like shitposts but aren't

the original creator actively fought for them to not make the first dalek story because he thought they were ‘bug-eyed monsters’

william hartnell came up with ideas of what every button on the tardis console did and would rant at directors if they told him to press the wrong one

two of the 60s dalek episodes only exist because they were found in the basement of a mormon church in london (i didn’t know that was a thing either)

they filmed an episode set in the tibetan mountains in north wales

they almost greenlit a story where the doctor ‘spanks the feminism out of his companion’

the eyepatch story, if you know you know

jon pertwee hated the daleks because he felt like they upstaged him, but he had more dalek stories than any doctor until david tennant

to make giant radioactive maggots for one story they inflated condoms

originally the sontarans' name was going to be pronounced 'SON-tar-an' rather than 'son-TAR-an' but the actor playing the first one said 'I'm from the fucking place, I know how to say it'

when he got the role of the doctor, tom baker was working on a building site

the 'morbius doctors' everyone lost their shit about after the ruth doctor was revealed were just eight of the behind the scenes crew dressing up as an easter egg

while they were waiting for the k9 prop to be finished, in rehearsals his voice actor used to go round on all fours in rehearsals

speaking of dogs, tom baker once pissed off another actor's dog so badly it made it take a big bite out of his lip and they had to shoot him from the other side for almost a whole story

when they brought back davros the first time, they couldn't get the same actor or make a new mask, so they just took the old mask out of storage and stuck it on the new actor

when they hired a superfan as the continuity advisor, he bottomed for the producer

they put question marks on the doctor's shirt collars on the assumption they could sell shirts like that to fans

they tried to get adric's actor to dance once, but he just couldn't so they sat him at a table eating cake (goals honestly)

colin baker got cast in a peter davison era story and they told him he was overacting a bit and that 'the show's called doctor who not the bloke who's the guard in the background', but he made everyone laugh at a wedding party and that convinced the producer to make him the doctor

there's a sequence where a dalek was supposed to catch the doctor at the end of a corridor and since someone went down the wrong one, the va just went 'EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE! ...BUGGER, I'VE LOST EM!'

when the bbc tried to cancel the show they put out a protest record that was like do they know it's christmas but complaining about doctor who getting cancelled

they tried to cast david bowie as one of the villains in peter davison's last story

they actually did cast brian blessed in one of colin baker's last stories, and when he forgot his last line during an elaborate action sequence he instead said 'RIGHT, LET'S FIND THE FUCKERONS!'

the last script editor got the job by saying he wanted to use the show to bring down thatcher

since they fired colin baker and then had to do a regeneration scene, they stuck sylvester mccoy in a blonde wig and put a bad cg effect over his face

when they were doing special effects explosions for the last dalek story they caused such a big explosion the police and fire engines arrived thinking it was a terrorist attack, and then 3 daleks came out of the smoke towards them

one of the last stories was almost cancelled and they had to do filming for it inside a tent in the car park of the studio where they film eastenders

originally instead of doctor who: the movie, some of the ideas pitched for a revival of the series included the doctor and the master being brothers looking for their father 'ulysses' and the doctor having a bulldog called winston as a companion

[pineapple-hoseok]

Happy Birthday!

Pairing: Yoongi x f!reader

Genre: A whole lot of fluff, soft Yoongi, 13+

Warnings: Some cuss words and Yoongi being a lovesick puppy

Word Count: 3.7k (wow that’s the longest one shot I’ve ever written)

Summary: It’s your birthday and Yoongi doesn’t know what to get you. He has a huge crush on you and he wants everything to be perfect.

---

Your birthday was tomorrow. You knew it, your best friend knew, the boys knew it, Yoongi knew it. How could Yoongi forget one of the most important days of the year? Well, it wasn’t as important as everyone was hyping it up to be, but it was for Yoongi. Especially because he had the biggest crush on you since Jimin introduced you to him and the others over a year ago. And he was going to use this day to finally tell you how he felt, using the advice Jimin gave him.

The only problem was, he didn’t know what gift to get you. You were supposed to be meeting up at their dorm tomorrow afternoon so they could celebrate with you and Minah, one out of two of your best friends, and he still had no idea what to buy.

Even as he stood in the middle of the shopping mall about a mile from the dorm, he was clueless and running out of time. So he did what he thought of as a last resort and dialed a number.

The boy on the other line answered with a tired ‘Hello?’, making it clear to Yoongi that he had just woken up from a nap. “Jimin-ah, I need your help.”

“Are you trying to find a gift for Y/N but you have no idea what to get her so you’re calling me to see if I can give you an idea of what to buy since I’m her best friend and I know her better than she knows herself?” That left Yoongi speechless.

Jimin knew of the older boy’s crush on you, hell, all the boys did. Even Minah, who was also one of the densest people in all of Korea, knew. Everyone could tell by the way Yoongi’s mood would lift every time you walked into the room, his obvious attempts of getting closer to you on movie nights, spending hours in his studio showing you songs he’d been working on, even letting you hear him sing after he swore he didn’t have the ability to. And when you told him you loved his songs and his voice, he felt his heart do a backflip in his chest. But somehow, you didn’t notice.

“How the fuck did you know that?” Jimin rolled his eyes so hard, Yoongi could practically hear it.

“You’re so easy to read when it comes to her, hyung.” The Busan boy sighed, sitting up in his bed once he realized he wasn’t getting any more sleep. “You already know Y/N’s really into photography, and I just happen to know her camera just broke. She needs a new one.”

Yoongi’s eyes widened, wondering to himself how he didn’t think of that before. “Thanks Jiminie, I owe you.” Jimin mumbled a simple ‘hell yeah you do’ and hung up the phone, but not without reminding Yoongi how much he loved him. The older male externally gagged, but internally smiled.

He knew you would never accept a brand new camera from him, but he was going to force you to take it, since he knew how much photography meant to you. He couldn’t live with himself if he knew you couldn’t do the thing you loved, and that he had a way to help. So he walked into Best Buy and made a beeline to the camera section. He knew absolutely nothing about cameras, but he was lucky to have a worker show him the best one for taking 4K pictures. Yoongi thought you’d really like an upgrade from your previous camera, which was kinda crappy considering that you got it for cheap.

Oh yeah, Yoongi thought, Y/N is definitely going to kill me. The boy, who usually kept his feelings to himself, found himself smiling at the thought of what your reaction would be. You’d definitely give him the worst death glare you could muster up, but he knew you would be actually trying your hardest not to cry. So as he swiped his credit card in the card reader, his excitement to give you this gift only grew.

Yoongi sat at his desk later that night, ignoring the calls of all the boys and their questioning of the bag he had in his hands. He pulled out a piece of paper and a pen, getting to work on the second half of his gift for you.

Meanwhile, you were laying on Minah’s bed while staring up at the ceiling, your best friend sitting on her desk chair. You had no idea what she was doing, but you didn’t question it. Everyone seemed to be keeping something from you lately. First, Minah begged you to sleep over, then you caught her talking to Jimin on the phone about god knows what. Now, she was telling you that the two of you were going over to the boys’ dorm because she forgot her favorite sweater there.

You fished your phone out of your pocket and texted the only person you thought you could get information out of.

If Hoseok didn’t know anything, that means they probably kept him out of it. He was probably the worst liar you had ever met, he couldn’t keep a secret to save his life. But you dropped the subject as soon as Minah stood up from her desk chair. She gestured for you to move over so she could get in the bed too. Back in Busan, you, Minah, and Jimin had been sleeping in the same bed since you all were in diapers, so this wasn’t weird at all to either of you.

“Minah?” You spoke in a soft voice, causing the girl to turn to look at you.

“What’s up?”

You bit your lip, thinking for a second. “What if everyone forgot my birthday? The only person that has said anything about it was Hoseok.”

Minah had to keep herself from smiling. “I’m sure everyone remembers, there’s still a half hour until your actual birthday. Don’t worry, okay?”

You took her word for it, trying your best to calm your racing thoughts. For the next half hour, you and Minah talked about memories you both had from middle school, including the time the two of you drew all over Jimin’s face in middle school when he fell asleep in class. He was still holding a grudge against the two of you for that.

Before you knew it, the alarm clock on Minah’s bedside read twelve am.

Minah jumped up and wrapped her arms around you, screaming ‘happy birthday!’ so loudly in your ear that you were sure her neighbors heard her. You laughed, the girl’s strength knocking you down on the bed while you hugged her back.

“Thank you, now get off of me!” As soon as she did, your phone rang. It was your parents calling you from Busan to wish you a happy birthday. You thanked them, making sure to tell them that you were gonna visit soon before you hung up. Other than that, you had no more calls. Not even from the person you wanted to call you the most, Yoongi.

Everyone knew about your crush on Yoongi, the two of you were really bad at hiding your feelings. But apparently you weren’t, because neither you nor Yoongi knew how the other felt.

Every time you hung out with him and the boys, you always found yourself smiling more than usual whenever he talked to you. And the moments you two spent in his studio listening to a song he wanted to show you only made your stomach fill with butterflies. He seemed to get you more than anyone else did, not even Minah and Jimin. You also couldn’t forget how gentle he always was with you, despite what people have said about him having a cold exterior. Whenever you had a movie night with the boys, Yoongi would always end up sitting next to you, even sharing his blanket with you when you got cold. He’d scold you whenever he caught you speaking badly about yourself, telling you never to do that again. Whenever you were upset and needed comfort, he always let you call him no matter what time of night it was. You couldn’t help but fall for him, which is why you felt disappointed when you didn’t get a text or call from him at midnight.

Your lips turned down in a small frown, but Minah didn’t notice. Instead, she explained that the two of you should sleep so you could go to the boys’ dorm early in the afternoon. You turned onto your side, pulling the covers over your shoulder as you closed your eyes and let sleep take over you.

--

You woke up to the sound of a higher pitched male voice singing happy birthday. As your eyes opened, you noticed it was Jimin singing to you while holding a cupcake with a single candle in it, Minah smiling widely behind him. They gave you a second to sit up in Minah’s bed, a wide smile taking over your features. You closed your eyes, making a single wish before blowing out the candle on the cupcake Jimin was holding out for you. He set it on the nightstand, allowing you to jump into your best friend’s arms and thank him profusely. Jimin’s arms picked you up and lifted you off of the bed, spinning you around once before setting you down on the floor.

“Happy birthday, loser.” You laughed, reaching up to ruffle the boy’s hair.

“Yah, that’s noona to you.” You honestly didn’t care about honorifics, but you did it just to tease Jimin about your one year age difference like you always did. He rolled his eyes, pushing your hand away from him while you laughed even more.

“Now go brush your teeth and put on something nice after you shower, you stink.” Minah pushed you towards her bathroom, leaving you confused. If you guys were only going to the dorm to pick up her sweater, why did you need to wear something nice? At this point you learned not to question anything Minah said, so you just went along with it and started getting ready.

About an hour later, you were dressed in a black skirt and a matching black blouse that you found in Minah’s closet after you forgot your clothes at your house. All you did to your hair was brush it out and style it a little, but you liked the way the wavy style looked on you. Once you stepped out of the room, you found Jimin and Minah whispering about something, with Jimin briefly looking down at his phone.

After you cleared your throat to get their attention, they turned to look at you.

“Perfect, let’s go.” Jimin grabbed your hand and brought you over to the door, telling you to put on the black low top vans you came in before leading you and Minah to his car. Throughout the entire car ride to Bangtan’s apartment building, Minah kept bouncing excitedly in her seat. Jimin on the other hand, kept telling her to stop before he threw her out of his porsche.

Soon enough, the three of you arrived at the building, making your way up the familiar elevator before walking down the hall. You were about to put in the code to the front door before Jimin slid in front of you so he could do it himself. What a child.

He sent a quick text from his phone before putting in the door code. The lights were off inside the big apartment, and you wondered where the boys were. Were they all out and Jimin was the first one home? Dismissing the thought, you took your shoes off at the entrance and put on the slippers the boys got you a few months into your friendship with them. You were about to start looking for Minah’s sweater until all of a sudden, the lights turned on and six boys jumped up screaming.

“Surprise!” You would’ve fell on your ass if it wasn’t for Minah who caught you from behind, everyone laughing at your reaction. All around you were balloons and streamers in an array of colors, the entire living area of the dorm looking festive.

You started tearing up, your hand fanning your eyes as you looked around at the seven boys -- plus Minah -- that planned this surprise party for you.

“You guys did all of this for me?” They all nodded, all of them running over to hug you before you could burst into tears. You hugged all of them individually, each boy wishing you a happy birthday. Hoseok came up to you, wrapping his arms around you in a friendly hug. Aside from Jimin, Hoseok was the next boy you considered as one of your closest friends in Bangtan.

“I swear, Y/N, I didn’t know anything about this until an hour ago.” You laughed, hugging the boy tightly.

Next was Yoongi. He walked up to you with a smile on his face, holding his arms out for a hug. Your arms wrapped around his neck as his wrapped around your waist, your heart doing backflips and somersaults in your chest.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call you to say happy birthday at midnight, they took my phone so I couldn’t contact you and ruin the surprise,” He spoke, his lips right next to your ear making his soft voice send shivers through your body. You hugged him for a second longer than the other boys before pulling back from the hug.

“It’s okay, I wasn’t worried.” That was a lie, but you decided that Yoongi didn’t need to know that.

The two of you walked over to the living room where the rest of the party was, your body immediately taking a seat next to Seokjin when he offered you one of the switch remotes to play Mario Kart with him.

That’s how the party went for the next few hours. A Mario Kart tournament between you and your eight friends took up a lot of the time, but you ended up beating everyone. You knew all of them had let you win, because there was no way you could beat Seokjin, Jungkook, AND Taehyung. But you didn’t mind, you got a crown made out of paper as your prize.

At last, it was gift opening time. Everyone sat on the living room floor, letting you use the couch as your throne as you opened each gift.

“I told you guys not to get me anything.” You whined, earning a bunch of comments from the peanut gallery to shut up and open your gifts.

So that’s what you did, starting with a gift from Jungkook. He got you the new pair of vans you’ve been wanting and were telling him about last week. Taehyung got you a gucci necktie to match his, Hoseok got you a pin that says ‘I <3 New Zealand’ from when they visited the year before (which you laughed at), Seokjin got you an Eevee plushie to match his, Namjoon got you a copy of the book he was reading which you asked him for a while ago, and Jimin got you a signed cd of his single ‘Promise’. After each of the boys gave you their gifts, you hugged each of them and made sure to tell them how much you really liked everything.

Then Yoongi gave you his. It was in a wrapped box and it felt heavy. You prayed that he didn’t get you something expensive, after you specifically told everyone not to buy you anything expensive. But you carefully opened it anyway, the wrapping paper revealing the box of a brand new Canon camera. A chorus of surprised sounds came from everyone, your eyes widening while looking down at the box. This camera was a huge upgrade from the shitty one you had before, which broke after some random guy bumped into you while you were taking pictures one day.

“Min Yoongi, I’m gonna kill you.” You mustered the best death glare you could give him. If looks could kill, the boy would be six feet under by now.

“Well I’m not taking it back, and there’s no refunds or returns so you have to accept it.” He wore a smug smile on his face that you wanted so badly to wipe off completely. You would definitely murder him in his sleep later.

You set the box down next to you and sighed in defeat, going over to hug him too.

“Thank you, it really means a lot to me.” Your voice was soft as you thanked him, and you could feel him smile against your cheek. You were about to go back to your seat when Yoongi stopped you.

“Actually, there’s something else I have for you,” He looked around at the curious eyes of everyone staring up at him, “in private.”

This set off another chorus of ‘woah’s from all of the boys, Minah only snickering in the corner. After telling them all to shut up, Yoongi stood and gestured for you to follow him to his room. You stood and followed closely behind him, ignoring the stares you felt on the back of your head.

Yoongi led you into his room and closed the door behind him so you two would have privacy. Your heart was beating wildly in your chest, wondering why he brought you here.

“So I kinda wrote you a small note, and I didn’t want you to read it in front of everyone so I brought you here.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper, handing it to you with red cheeks. You didn’t know how to react except for responding with a small ‘thank you’ before opening the note.

Dear Y/N,

I kinda feel like an idiot writing this letter to you, but I didn’t know how else to tell you. Okay I’m just gonna say it, I like you. Like really like you. I like spending time with you, whether it’s with the boys or alone, I like showing you the songs I’m working on, I like when you sit close to me on movie nights, I like when you smile and literally light up any room you walk into, I like how little strands of your hair fall into your eyes and you don’t even notice it, I like the way your dimples pop out every time you smile, I like everything about you. I really like the way I feel when I’m around you, like I get this tingly feeling in my stomach and I can feel my heart do little flips in my chest, and I just feel really happy when I’m around you. Everything in me just wants to keep you happy, because you look really beautiful when you smile, and your laugh is probably more contagious than Hoseok’s (and that’s saying a lot). My point is, I’m wearing my heart on my sleeve right now and I just wanted to ask you something.

P.S: Look back up at me when you’re done reading this.

You had tears in your eyes by the time you looked back up at a nervous Yoongi, his hands shoved in his front pockets to keep himself from fidgeting with them.

“Now that you know my feelings, will you please be my girlfriend?” Yoongi couldn’t tear his eyes away from yours, not until he heard your answer. Right now, he was giving his heart to you in hopes that you wouldn’t break it. He was revealing a vulnerable side of him that only you got to see, and that he had never shown anyone.

You smiled as a few tears slipped past your eyelids, which made Yoongi immediately go into panic mode.

“Oh shit, did I do something? I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have done that-“ You cut him off by chuckling lightly, shaking your head.

“Shut up and kiss me, idiot.” Your hands reached up to rest on his cheeks, pulling his face closer to yours until your lips met his. Almost immediately, his hands rested on your waist, pulling your body closer to his.

The kiss lasted a little less than ten seconds before both of you hesitantly pulled back just enough to look at each other’s faces.

“Yes,” You spoke softly, causing a confused look to take over Yoongi’s face. Laughing lightly, you realized he completely forgot about his question. “I’ll be your girlfriend.”

Yoongi smiled his gummy smile that you absolutely adored, his arms wrapping around your waist to hug you again. The size of your smile mirrored his as your hands ran through his hair.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this.” His head pulled back, leaning down to kiss you again. You broke the kiss after a second, though, much to his dismay.

“As much as I just want to kiss you all night, we have a crowd of people waiting for us outside.” Yoongi whined, only making you laugh more. But you were serious about going back out there, taking hold of his hand and walking back out of his room. The two of you walked hand in hand back to the living room, smiling at all of the surprised faces staring back at you.

“Finally!” Jimin called out, earning himself a slap on the back of the head from Seokjin. But everyone agreed with Jimin’s opinion, congratulating you and Yoongi.

You all decided to end the night with cake and a movie. Everyone called for you to pick the movie while Minah got up to grab the cake in the kitchen, so you picked ‘Toy Story 2’ again. They all started complaining, but you just smiled and pressed play on the screen.

Instead of sitting on the couch like you normally would’ve, you decided to sit on the floor in between Yoongi’s legs, leaning your back against his chest. You felt two strong arms wrap around your waist, looking back to see your now boyfriend looking back down at you with a smile on his face. Making sure no one was looking, you leaned up to quickly kiss his waiting lips before resting your head back on his shoulder, your arms resting on top of his.

This was officially the best birthday ever.

[chrisevansluv]

Here is the 2012 Detail Magazine interview with chris evans:

The Avengers' Chris Evans: Just Your Average Beer-Swilling, Babe-Loving Buddhist

The 30-year-old Bud Light-chugging, Beantown-bred star of The Avengers is widely perceived as the ultimate guy's guy. But beneath the bro persona lies a serious student of Buddhism, an unrepentant song-and-dance man, and a guy who talks to his mom about sex. And farts.

By Adam Sachs,

Photographs by Norman Jean Roy

May 2012 Issue

"Should we just kill him and bury his body?" Chris Evans is stage whispering into the impassive blinking light of my digital recorder.

"Chris!" shouts his mother, her tone a familiar-to-anyone-with-a-mother mix of coddling and concern. "Don't say that! What if something happened?"

We're at Evans' apartment, an expansive but not overly tricked-out bachelor-pad-ish loft in a semi-industrial nowheresville part of Boston, hard by Chinatown, near an area sometimes called the Combat Zone. Evans has a fuzzy, floppy, slept-in-his-clothes aspect that'd be nearly unrecognizable if you knew him only by the upright, spit-polished bearing of the onscreen hero. His dog, East, a sweet and slobbery American bulldog, is spread out on a couch in front of the TV. The shelves of his fridge are neatly stacked with much of the world's supply of Bud Light in cans and little else.

On the counter sit a few buckets of muscle-making whey-protein powder that belong to Evans' roommate, Zach Jarvis, an old pal who sometimes tags along on set as a paid "assistant" and a personal trainer who bulked Evans up for his role as the super-ripped patriot in last summer's blockbuster Captain America: The First Avenger. A giant clock on the exposed-brick wall says it's early evening, but Evans operates on his own sense of time. Between gigs, his schedule's all his, which usually translates into long stretches of alone time during the day and longer social nights for the 30-year-old.

"I could just make this . . . disappear," says Josh Peck, another old pal and occasional on-set assistant, in a deadpan mumble, poking at the voice recorder I'd left on the table while I was in the bathroom.

Evans' mom, Lisa, now speaks directly into the microphone: "Don't listen to them—I'm trying to get them not to say these things!"

But not saying things isn't in the Evans DNA. They're an infectiously gregarious clan. Irish-Italians, proud Bostoners, close-knit, and innately theatrical. "We all act, we sing," Evans says. "It was like the fucking von Trapps." Mom was a dancer and now runs a children's theater. First-born Carly directed the family puppet shows and studied theater at NYU. Younger brother Scott has parts on One Life to Live and Law & Order under his belt and lives in Los Angeles full-time—something Evans stopped doing several years back. Rounding out the circle are baby sister Shanna and a pair of "strays" the family brought into their Sudbury, Massachusetts, home: Josh, who went from mowing the lawn to moving in when his folks relocated during his senior year in high school; and Demery, who was Evans' roommate until recently.

"Our house was like a hotel," Evans says. "It was a loony-tunes household. If you got arrested in high school, everyone knew: 'Call Mrs. Evans, she'll bail you out.'"

Growing up, they had a special floor put in the basement where all the kids practiced tap-dancing. The party-ready rec room also had a Ping-Pong table and a separate entrance. This was the house kids in the neighborhood wanted to hang at, and this was the kind of family you wanted to be adopted by. Spend an afternoon listening to them dish old dirt and talk over each other and it's easy to see why. Now they're worried they've said too much, laid bare the tender soul of the actor behind the star-spangled superhero outfit, so there's talk of offing the interviewer. I can hear all this from the bathroom, which, of course, is the point of a good stage whisper.

To be sure, no one's said too much, and the more you're brought into the embrace of this boisterous, funny, shit-slinging, demonstrably loving extended family, the more likable and enviable the whole dynamic is.

Sample exchange from today's lunch of baked ziti at a family-style Italian restaurant:

Mom: When he was a kid, he asked me, 'Mom, will I ever think farting isn't funny?'

Chris: You're throwing me under the bus, Ma! Thank you.

Mom: Well, if a dog farts you still find it funny.

Then, back at the apartment, where Mrs. Evans tries to give me good-natured dirt on her son without freaking him out:

Mom: You always tell me when you think a girl is attractive. You'll call me up so excited. Is that okay to say?

Chris: Nothing wrong with that.

Mom: And can I say all the girls you've brought to the house have been very sweet and wonderful? Of course, those are the ones that make it to the house. It's been a long time, hasn't it?

Chris: Looooong time.

Mom: The last one at our house? Was it six years ago?

Chris: No names, Ma!

Mom: But she knocked it out of the park.

Chris: She got drunk and puked at Auntie Pam's house! And she puked on the way home and she puked at our place.

Mom: And that's when I fell in love with her. Because she was real.

We're operating under a no-names rule, so I'm not asking if it's Jessica Biel who made this memorable first impression. She and Evans were serious for a couple of years. But I don't want to picture lovely Jessica Biel getting sick at Auntie Pam's or in the car or, really, anywhere.

East the bulldog ambles over to the table, begging for food.

"That dog is the love of his life," Mrs. Evans says. "Which tells me he'll be an unbelievable parent, but I don't want him to get married right now." She turns to Chris. "The way you are, I just don't think you're ready."

Some other things I learn about Evans from his mom: He hates going to the gym; he was so wound-up as a kid she'd let him stand during dinner, his legs shaking like caged greyhounds; he suffered weekly "Sunday-night meltdowns" over schoolwork and the angst of the sensitive middle-schooler; after she and his father split and he was making money from acting, he bought her the Sudbury family homestead rather than let her leave it.

Eventually his mom and Josh depart, and Evans and I go to work depleting his stash of Bud Light. It feels like we drink Bud Light and talk for days, because we basically do. I arrived early Friday evening; it's Saturday night now and it'll be sunup Sunday before I sleeplessly make my way to catch a train back to New York City. Somewhere in between we slip free of the gravitational pull of the bachelor pad and there's bottle service at a club and a long walk with entourage in tow back to Evans' apartment, where there is some earnest-yet-surreal group singing, piano playing, and chitchat. Evans is fun to talk to, partly because he's an open, self-mocking guy with an explosive laugh and no apparent need to sleep, and partly because when you cut just below the surface, it's clear he's not quite the dude's dude he sometimes plays onscreen and in TV appearances.

From a distance, Chris Evans the movie star seems a predictable, nearly inevitable piece of successful Hollywood packaging come to market. There's his major-release debut as the dorkily unaware jock Jake in the guilty pleasure Not Another Teen Movie (in one memorable scene, Evans has whipped cream on his chest and a banana up his ass). The female-friendly hunk appeal—his character in The Nanny Diaries is named simply Harvard Hottie—is balanced by a kind of casual-Friday, I'm-from-Boston regular-dudeness. Following the siren song of comic-book cash, he was the Human Torch in two Fantastic Four films. As with scrawny Steve Rogers, the Captain America suit beefed up his stature as a formidable screen presence, a bankable leading man, all of which leads us to The Avengers, this season's megabudget, megawatt ensemble in which he stars alongside Scarlett Johansson, Mark Ruffalo, Robert Downey Jr., and Chris Hemsworth.

It all feels inevitable—and yet it nearly didn't happen. Evans repeatedly turned down the Captain America role, fearing he'd be locked into what was originally a nine-picture deal. He was shooting Puncture, about a drug-addicted lawyer, at the time. Most actors doing small-budget legal dramas would jump at the chance to play the lead in a Marvel franchise, but Evans saw a decade of his life flash before his eyes.

What he remembers thinking is this: "What if the movie comes out and it's a success and I just reject all of this? What if I want to move to the fucking woods?"

By "the woods," he doesn't mean a quiet life away from the spotlight, some general metaphorical life escape route. He means the actual woods. "For a long time all I wanted for Christmas were books about outdoor survival," he says. "I was convinced that I was going to move to the woods. I camped a lot, I took classes. At 18, I told myself if I don't live in the woods by the time I'm 25, I have failed."

Evans has described his hesitation at signing on for Captain America. Usually he talks about the time commitment, the loss of what remained of his relative anonymity. On the junkets for the movie, he was open about needing therapy after the studio reduced the deal to six movies and he took the leap. What he doesn't usually mention is that he was racked with anxiety before the job came up.

"I get very nervous," Evans explains. "I shit the bed if I have to present something on stage or if I'm doing press. Because it's just you." He's been known to walk out of press conferences, to freeze up and go silent during the kind of relaxed-yet-high-stakes meetings an actor of his stature is expected to attend: "Do you know how badly I audition? Fifty percent of the time I have to walk out of the room. I'm naturally very pale, so I turn red and sweat. And I have to literally walk out. Sometimes mid-audition. You start having these conversations in your brain. 'Chris, don't do this. Chris, take it easy. You're just sitting in a room with a person saying some words, this isn't life. And you're letting this affect you? Shame on you.'"

Shades of "Sunday-night meltdowns." Luckily the nerves never follow him to the set. "You do your neuroses beforehand, so when they yell 'Action' you can be present," he says.

Okay, there was one on-set panic attack—while Evans was shooting Puncture. "We were getting ready to do a court scene in front of a bunch of people, and I don't know what happened," he says. "It's just your brain playing games with you. 'Hey, you know how we sometimes freak out? What if we did it right now?'"

One of the people who advised Evans to take the Captain America role was his eventual Avengers costar Robert Downey Jr. "I'd seen him around," Downey says. "We share an agent. I like to spend a lot of my free time talking to my agent about his other clients—I just had a feeling about him."

What he told Evans was: This puppy is going to be big, and when it is you're going to get to make the movies you want to make. "In the marathon obstacle course of a career," Downey says, "it's just good to have all the stats on paper for why you're not only a team player but also why it makes sense to support you in the projects you want to do—because you've made so much damned money for the studio."

There's also the fact that Evans had a chance to sign on for something likely to be a kind of watershed moment in the comic-book fascination of our time. "I do think The Avengers is the crescendo of this superhero phase in entertainment—except of course for Iron Man 3," Downey says. "It'll take a lot of innovation to keep it alive after this."

Captain America is the only person left who was truly close to Howard Stark, father of Tony Stark (a.k.a. Iron Man), which meant that Evans' and Downey's story lines are closely linked, and in the course of doing a lot of scenes together, they got to be pals. Downey diagnoses his friend with what he terms "low-grade red-carpet anxiety disorder."

"He just hates the game-show aspect of doing PR," Downey says. "Obviously there's pressure for anyone in this transition he's in. But he will easily triple that pressure to make sure he's not being lazy. That's why I respect the guy. I wouldn't necessarily want to be in his skin. But his motives are pure. He just needs to drink some red-carpet chamomile."

"The majority of the world is empty space," Chris Evans says, watching me as if my brain might explode on hearing this news—or like he might have to fight me if I try to contradict him. We're back at his apartment after a cigarette run through the Combat Zone.

"Empty space!" he says again, slapping the table and sort of yelling. Then, in a slow, breathy whisper, he repeats: "Empty space, empty space. All that we see in the world, the life, the animals, plants, people, it's all empty space. That's amazing!" He slaps the table again. "You want another beer? Gotta be Bud Light. Get dirty—you're in Boston. Okay, organize your thoughts. I gotta take a piss . . ."

My thoughts are this: That this guy who is hugging his dog and talking to me about space and mortality and the trouble with Boston girls who believe crazy gossip about him—this is not the guy I expected to meet. I figured he'd be a meatball. Though, truthfully, I'd never called anyone a meatball until Evans turned me on to the put-down. As in: "My sister Shanna dates meatballs." And, more to the point: "When I do interviews, I'd rather just be the beer-drinking dude from Boston and not get into the complex shit, because I don't want every meatball saying, 'So hey, whaddyathink about Buddhism?'"

At 17, Evans came across a copy of Hermann Hesse's Siddhartha and began his spiritual questing. It's a path of study and struggle that, he says, defines his true purpose in life. "I love acting. It's my playground, it lets me explore. But my happiness in this world, my level of peace, is never going to be dictated by acting," he says. "My goal in life is to detach from the egoic mind. Do you know anything about Eastern philosophy?"

I sip some Bud Light and shake my head sheepishly. "They talk about the egoic mind, the part of you that's self-aware, the watcher, the person you think is driving this machine," he says. "And that separation from self and mind is the root of suffering. There are ways of retraining the way you think. This isn't really supported in Western society, which is focused on 'Go get it, earn it, win it, marry it.'"

Scarlett Johansson says that one of the things she appreciates about Evans is how he steers clear of industry chat when they see each other. "Basically every actor," she says, "including myself, when we finish a job we're like, 'Well, that's it for me. Had a good run. Put me out to pasture.' But Chris doesn't strike me as someone who frets about the next job." The two met on the set of The Perfect Score when they were teenagers and have stayed close; The Avengers is their third movie together. "He has this obviously masculine presence—a dude's dude—and we're used to seeing him play heroic characters," Johansson says, "but he's also surprisingly sensitive. He has close female friends, and you can talk to him about anything. Plus there's that secret song-and-dance, jazz-hands side of Chris. I feel like he grew up with the Partridge Family. He'd be just as happy doing Guys and Dolls as he would Captain America 2."

East needs to do his business, so Evans and I take him up to the roof deck. Evans bought this apartment in 2010 when living in L.A. full-time no longer appealed to him. He came back to stay close to his extended family and the intimate circle of Boston pals he's maintained since high school. The move also seems like a pretty clear keep-it-real hedge against the manic ego-stroking distractions of Hollywood.

"I think my daytime person is different than my nighttime person," Evans says. "With my high-school buddies, we drink beer and talk sports and it's great. The kids in my Buddhism class in L.A., they're wildly intelligent, and I love being around them, but they're not talking about the Celtics. And that's part of me. It's a strange dichotomy. I don't mind being a certain way with some people and having this other piece of me that's just for me."

I asked Downey about Evans' outward regular-Joe persona. "It's complete horseshit," Downey says. "There's an inherent street-smart intelligence there. I don't think he tries to hide it. But he's much more evolved and much more culturally aware than he lets on."

Perhaps the meatball and the meditation can coexist. We argue about our egoic brains and the tao of Boston girls. "I love wet hair and sweatpants," he says in their defense. "I like sneakers and ponytails. I like girls who aren't so la-di-da. L.A. is so la-di-da. I like Boston girls who shit on me. Not literally. Girls who give me a hard time, bust my chops a little."

The chief buster of Evans' chops is, of course, Evans himself. "The problem is, the brain I'm using to dissect this world is a brain formed by it," he says. "We're born into confusion, and we get the blessing of letting go of it." Then he adds: "I think this shit by day. And then night comes and it's like, 'Fuck it, let's drink.'"

And so we do. It's getting late. Again. We should have eaten dinner, but Evans sometimes forgets to eat: "If I could just take a pill to make me full forever, I wouldn't think twice."

We talk about his dog and camping with his dog and why he loves being alone more than almost anything except maybe not being alone. "I swear to God, if you saw me when I am by myself in the woods, I'm a lunatic," he says. "I sing, I dance. I do crazy shit."

Evans' unflagging, all-encompassing enthusiasm is impressive, itself a kind of social intelligence. "If you want to have a good conversation with him, don't talk about the fact that he's famous" was the advice I got from Mark Kassen, who codirected Puncture. "He's a blast, a guy who can hang. For quite a long time. Many hours in a row."

I've stopped looking at the clock. We've stopped talking philosophy and moved into more emotional territory. He asks questions about my 9-month-old son, and then Captain America gets teary when I talk about the wonder of his birth. "I weep at everything," he says. "I emote. I love things so much—I just never want to dilute that."

He talks about how close he feels to his family, how open they all are with each other. About everything. All the time. "The first time I had sex," he says, "I raced home and was like, 'Mom, I just had sex! Where's the clit?'"

Wait, I ask—did she ever tell you?

"Still don't know where it is, man," he says, then breaks into a smile composed of equal parts shit-eating grin and inner peace. "I just don't know. Make some movies, you don't have to know…"

Here is the 2012 Detail Magazine interview with chris evans:

The Avengers' Chris Evans: Just Your Average Beer-Swilling, Babe-Loving Buddhist

The 30-year-old Bud Light-chugging, Beantown-bred star of The Avengers is widely perceived as the ultimate guy's guy. But beneath the bro persona lies a serious student of Buddhism, an unrepentant song-and-dance man, and a guy who talks to his mom about sex. And farts.

By Adam Sachs,

Photographs by Norman Jean Roy

May 2012 Issue

"Should we just kill him and bury his body?" Chris Evans is stage whispering into the impassive blinking light of my digital recorder.

"Chris!" shouts his mother, her tone a familiar-to-anyone-with-a-mother mix of coddling and concern. "Don't say that! What if something happened?"

We're at Evans' apartment, an expansive but not overly tricked-out bachelor-pad-ish loft in a semi-industrial nowheresville part of Boston, hard by Chinatown, near an area sometimes called the Combat Zone. Evans has a fuzzy, floppy, slept-in-his-clothes aspect that'd be nearly unrecognizable if you knew him only by the upright, spit-polished bearing of the onscreen hero. His dog, East, a sweet and slobbery American bulldog, is spread out on a couch in front of the TV. The shelves of his fridge are neatly stacked with much of the world's supply of Bud Light in cans and little else.

On the counter sit a few buckets of muscle-making whey-protein powder that belong to Evans' roommate, Zach Jarvis, an old pal who sometimes tags along on set as a paid "assistant" and a personal trainer who bulked Evans up for his role as the super-ripped patriot in last summer's blockbuster Captain America: The First Avenger. A giant clock on the exposed-brick wall says it's early evening, but Evans operates on his own sense of time. Between gigs, his schedule's all his, which usually translates into long stretches of alone time during the day and longer social nights for the 30-year-old.

"I could just make this . . . disappear," says Josh Peck, another old pal and occasional on-set assistant, in a deadpan mumble, poking at the voice recorder I'd left on the table while I was in the bathroom.

Evans' mom, Lisa, now speaks directly into the microphone: "Don't listen to them—I'm trying to get them not to say these things!"

But not saying things isn't in the Evans DNA. They're an infectiously gregarious clan. Irish-Italians, proud Bostoners, close-knit, and innately theatrical. "We all act, we sing," Evans says. "It was like the fucking von Trapps." Mom was a dancer and now runs a children's theater. First-born Carly directed the family puppet shows and studied theater at NYU. Younger brother Scott has parts on One Life to Live and Law & Order under his belt and lives in Los Angeles full-time—something Evans stopped doing several years back. Rounding out the circle are baby sister Shanna and a pair of "strays" the family brought into their Sudbury, Massachusetts, home: Josh, who went from mowing the lawn to moving in when his folks relocated during his senior year in high school; and Demery, who was Evans' roommate until recently.

"Our house was like a hotel," Evans says. "It was a loony-tunes household. If you got arrested in high school, everyone knew: 'Call Mrs. Evans, she'll bail you out.'"

Growing up, they had a special floor put in the basement where all the kids practiced tap-dancing. The party-ready rec room also had a Ping-Pong table and a separate entrance. This was the house kids in the neighborhood wanted to hang at, and this was the kind of family you wanted to be adopted by. Spend an afternoon listening to them dish old dirt and talk over each other and it's easy to see why. Now they're worried they've said too much, laid bare the tender soul of the actor behind the star-spangled superhero outfit, so there's talk of offing the interviewer. I can hear all this from the bathroom, which, of course, is the point of a good stage whisper.

To be sure, no one's said too much, and the more you're brought into the embrace of this boisterous, funny, shit-slinging, demonstrably loving extended family, the more likable and enviable the whole dynamic is.

Sample exchange from today's lunch of baked ziti at a family-style Italian restaurant:

Mom: When he was a kid, he asked me, 'Mom, will I ever think farting isn't funny?'

Chris: You're throwing me under the bus, Ma! Thank you.

Mom: Well, if a dog farts you still find it funny.

Then, back at the apartment, where Mrs. Evans tries to give me good-natured dirt on her son without freaking him out:

Mom: You always tell me when you think a girl is attractive. You'll call me up so excited. Is that okay to say?

Chris: Nothing wrong with that.

Mom: And can I say all the girls you've brought to the house have been very sweet and wonderful? Of course, those are the ones that make it to the house. It's been a long time, hasn't it?

Chris: Looooong time.

Mom: The last one at our house? Was it six years ago?

Chris: No names, Ma!

Mom: But she knocked it out of the park.

Chris: She got drunk and puked at Auntie Pam's house! And she puked on the way home and she puked at our place.

Mom: And that's when I fell in love with her. Because she was real.

We're operating under a no-names rule, so I'm not asking if it's Jessica Biel who made this memorable first impression. She and Evans were serious for a couple of years. But I don't want to picture lovely Jessica Biel getting sick at Auntie Pam's or in the car or, really, anywhere.

East the bulldog ambles over to the table, begging for food.

"That dog is the love of his life," Mrs. Evans says. "Which tells me he'll be an unbelievable parent, but I don't want him to get married right now." She turns to Chris. "The way you are, I just don't think you're ready."

Some other things I learn about Evans from his mom: He hates going to the gym; he was so wound-up as a kid she'd let him stand during dinner, his legs shaking like caged greyhounds; he suffered weekly "Sunday-night meltdowns" over schoolwork and the angst of the sensitive middle-schooler; after she and his father split and he was making money from acting, he bought her the Sudbury family homestead rather than let her leave it.

Eventually his mom and Josh depart, and Evans and I go to work depleting his stash of Bud Light. It feels like we drink Bud Light and talk for days, because we basically do. I arrived early Friday evening; it's Saturday night now and it'll be sunup Sunday before I sleeplessly make my way to catch a train back to New York City. Somewhere in between we slip free of the gravitational pull of the bachelor pad and there's bottle service at a club and a long walk with entourage in tow back to Evans' apartment, where there is some earnest-yet-surreal group singing, piano playing, and chitchat. Evans is fun to talk to, partly because he's an open, self-mocking guy with an explosive laugh and no apparent need to sleep, and partly because when you cut just below the surface, it's clear he's not quite the dude's dude he sometimes plays onscreen and in TV appearances.

From a distance, Chris Evans the movie star seems a predictable, nearly inevitable piece of successful Hollywood packaging come to market. There's his major-release debut as the dorkily unaware jock Jake in the guilty pleasure Not Another Teen Movie (in one memorable scene, Evans has whipped cream on his chest and a banana up his ass). The female-friendly hunk appeal—his character in The Nanny Diaries is named simply Harvard Hottie—is balanced by a kind of casual-Friday, I'm-from-Boston regular-dudeness. Following the siren song of comic-book cash, he was the Human Torch in two Fantastic Four films. As with scrawny Steve Rogers, the Captain America suit beefed up his stature as a formidable screen presence, a bankable leading man, all of which leads us to The Avengers, this season's megabudget, megawatt ensemble in which he stars alongside Scarlett Johansson, Mark Ruffalo, Robert Downey Jr., and Chris Hemsworth.

It all feels inevitable—and yet it nearly didn't happen. Evans repeatedly turned down the Captain America role, fearing he'd be locked into what was originally a nine-picture deal. He was shooting Puncture, about a drug-addicted lawyer, at the time. Most actors doing small-budget legal dramas would jump at the chance to play the lead in a Marvel franchise, but Evans saw a decade of his life flash before his eyes.

What he remembers thinking is this: "What if the movie comes out and it's a success and I just reject all of this? What if I want to move to the fucking woods?"

By "the woods," he doesn't mean a quiet life away from the spotlight, some general metaphorical life escape route. He means the actual woods. "For a long time all I wanted for Christmas were books about outdoor survival," he says. "I was convinced that I was going to move to the woods. I camped a lot, I took classes. At 18, I told myself if I don't live in the woods by the time I'm 25, I have failed."

Evans has described his hesitation at signing on for Captain America. Usually he talks about the time commitment, the loss of what remained of his relative anonymity. On the junkets for the movie, he was open about needing therapy after the studio reduced the deal to six movies and he took the leap. What he doesn't usually mention is that he was racked with anxiety before the job came up.

"I get very nervous," Evans explains. "I shit the bed if I have to present something on stage or if I'm doing press. Because it's just you." He's been known to walk out of press conferences, to freeze up and go silent during the kind of relaxed-yet-high-stakes meetings an actor of his stature is expected to attend: "Do you know how badly I audition? Fifty percent of the time I have to walk out of the room. I'm naturally very pale, so I turn red and sweat. And I have to literally walk out. Sometimes mid-audition. You start having these conversations in your brain. 'Chris, don't do this. Chris, take it easy. You're just sitting in a room with a person saying some words, this isn't life. And you're letting this affect you? Shame on you.'"

Shades of "Sunday-night meltdowns." Luckily the nerves never follow him to the set. "You do your neuroses beforehand, so when they yell 'Action' you can be present," he says.

Okay, there was one on-set panic attack—while Evans was shooting Puncture. "We were getting ready to do a court scene in front of a bunch of people, and I don't know what happened," he says. "It's just your brain playing games with you. 'Hey, you know how we sometimes freak out? What if we did it right now?'"

One of the people who advised Evans to take the Captain America role was his eventual Avengers costar Robert Downey Jr. "I'd seen him around," Downey says. "We share an agent. I like to spend a lot of my free time talking to my agent about his other clients—I just had a feeling about him."

What he told Evans was: This puppy is going to be big, and when it is you're going to get to make the movies you want to make. "In the marathon obstacle course of a career," Downey says, "it's just good to have all the stats on paper for why you're not only a team player but also why it makes sense to support you in the projects you want to do—because you've made so much damned money for the studio."

There's also the fact that Evans had a chance to sign on for something likely to be a kind of watershed moment in the comic-book fascination of our time. "I do think The Avengers is the crescendo of this superhero phase in entertainment—except of course for Iron Man 3," Downey says. "It'll take a lot of innovation to keep it alive after this."

Captain America is the only person left who was truly close to Howard Stark, father of Tony Stark (a.k.a. Iron Man), which meant that Evans' and Downey's story lines are closely linked, and in the course of doing a lot of scenes together, they got to be pals. Downey diagnoses his friend with what he terms "low-grade red-carpet anxiety disorder."

"He just hates the game-show aspect of doing PR," Downey says. "Obviously there's pressure for anyone in this transition he's in. But he will easily triple that pressure to make sure he's not being lazy. That's why I respect the guy. I wouldn't necessarily want to be in his skin. But his motives are pure. He just needs to drink some red-carpet chamomile."

"The majority of the world is empty space," Chris Evans says, watching me as if my brain might explode on hearing this news—or like he might have to fight me if I try to contradict him. We're back at his apartment after a cigarette run through the Combat Zone.

"Empty space!" he says again, slapping the table and sort of yelling. Then, in a slow, breathy whisper, he repeats: "Empty space, empty space. All that we see in the world, the life, the animals, plants, people, it's all empty space. That's amazing!" He slaps the table again. "You want another beer? Gotta be Bud Light. Get dirty—you're in Boston. Okay, organize your thoughts. I gotta take a piss . . ."

My thoughts are this: That this guy who is hugging his dog and talking to me about space and mortality and the trouble with Boston girls who believe crazy gossip about him—this is not the guy I expected to meet. I figured he'd be a meatball. Though, truthfully, I'd never called anyone a meatball until Evans turned me on to the put-down. As in: "My sister Shanna dates meatballs." And, more to the point: "When I do interviews, I'd rather just be the beer-drinking dude from Boston and not get into the complex shit, because I don't want every meatball saying, 'So hey, whaddyathink about Buddhism?'"

At 17, Evans came across a copy of Hermann Hesse's Siddhartha and began his spiritual questing. It's a path of study and struggle that, he says, defines his true purpose in life. "I love acting. It's my playground, it lets me explore. But my happiness in this world, my level of peace, is never going to be dictated by acting," he says. "My goal in life is to detach from the egoic mind. Do you know anything about Eastern philosophy?"

I sip some Bud Light and shake my head sheepishly. "They talk about the egoic mind, the part of you that's self-aware, the watcher, the person you think is driving this machine," he says. "And that separation from self and mind is the root of suffering. There are ways of retraining the way you think. This isn't really supported in Western society, which is focused on 'Go get it, earn it, win it, marry it.'"

Scarlett Johansson says that one of the things she appreciates about Evans is how he steers clear of industry chat when they see each other. "Basically every actor," she says, "including myself, when we finish a job we're like, 'Well, that's it for me. Had a good run. Put me out to pasture.' But Chris doesn't strike me as someone who frets about the next job." The two met on the set of The Perfect Score when they were teenagers and have stayed close; The Avengers is their third movie together. "He has this obviously masculine presence—a dude's dude—and we're used to seeing him play heroic characters," Johansson says, "but he's also surprisingly sensitive. He has close female friends, and you can talk to him about anything. Plus there's that secret song-and-dance, jazz-hands side of Chris. I feel like he grew up with the Partridge Family. He'd be just as happy doing Guys and Dolls as he would Captain America 2."

East needs to do his business, so Evans and I take him up to the roof deck. Evans bought this apartment in 2010 when living in L.A. full-time no longer appealed to him. He came back to stay close to his extended family and the intimate circle of Boston pals he's maintained since high school. The move also seems like a pretty clear keep-it-real hedge against the manic ego-stroking distractions of Hollywood.

"I think my daytime person is different than my nighttime person," Evans says. "With my high-school buddies, we drink beer and talk sports and it's great. The kids in my Buddhism class in L.A., they're wildly intelligent, and I love being around them, but they're not talking about the Celtics. And that's part of me. It's a strange dichotomy. I don't mind being a certain way with some people and having this other piece of me that's just for me."

I asked Downey about Evans' outward regular-Joe persona. "It's complete horseshit," Downey says. "There's an inherent street-smart intelligence there. I don't think he tries to hide it. But he's much more evolved and much more culturally aware than he lets on."

Perhaps the meatball and the meditation can coexist. We argue about our egoic brains and the tao of Boston girls. "I love wet hair and sweatpants," he says in their defense. "I like sneakers and ponytails. I like girls who aren't so la-di-da. L.A. is so la-di-da. I like Boston girls who shit on me. Not literally. Girls who give me a hard time, bust my chops a little."

The chief buster of Evans' chops is, of course, Evans himself. "The problem is, the brain I'm using to dissect this world is a brain formed by it," he says. "We're born into confusion, and we get the blessing of letting go of it." Then he adds: "I think this shit by day. And then night comes and it's like, 'Fuck it, let's drink.'"

And so we do. It's getting late. Again. We should have eaten dinner, but Evans sometimes forgets to eat: "If I could just take a pill to make me full forever, I wouldn't think twice."

We talk about his dog and camping with his dog and why he loves being alone more than almost anything except maybe not being alone. "I swear to God, if you saw me when I am by myself in the woods, I'm a lunatic," he says. "I sing, I dance. I do crazy shit."

Evans' unflagging, all-encompassing enthusiasm is impressive, itself a kind of social intelligence. "If you want to have a good conversation with him, don't talk about the fact that he's famous" was the advice I got from Mark Kassen, who codirected Puncture. "He's a blast, a guy who can hang. For quite a long time. Many hours in a row."

I've stopped looking at the clock. We've stopped talking philosophy and moved into more emotional territory. He asks questions about my 9-month-old son, and then Captain America gets teary when I talk about the wonder of his birth. "I weep at everything," he says. "I emote. I love things so much—I just never want to dilute that."

He talks about how close he feels to his family, how open they all are with each other. About everything. All the time. "The first time I had sex," he says, "I raced home and was like, 'Mom, I just had sex! Where's the clit?'"

Wait, I ask—did she ever tell you?

"Still don't know where it is, man," he says, then breaks into a smile composed of equal parts shit-eating grin and inner peace. "I just don't know. Make some movies, you don't have to know…"

If someone doesn't want to check the link, the anon sent the full interview!

[dreamescapeswriting]

Pity Party ~ Changbin [Request]

↬↬↬ Word Count: 1.8K

↬↬↬Genre: Angst with a fluff ending

↬↬↬Pairing: Changbin x Fem!Reader

↬↬↬ A/N: Offt I know the feeling of this way too well so I just stopped throwing parties in the end 

The invitations were freshly printed and in your hands, as you walked into the dorms to see your boyfriend sitting with the rest of the boys in the lounge of their dorms, you began waving the invitations in the air. 

"Look what I have." You giggled excitedly sitting down next to Changbin who automatically wrapped his arm around your shoulder and looked at what it was in your hands, 

"A party? You never throw parties baby." He took the invitation that had his name on and inspected it while you thought about what he said. There was one main reason you never threw parties it was just because you were the quiet one of your friendship group, the girl that was quite reserved normally but this year you decided that since you never really celebrated that you wanted to. 

"I thought it would be nice, I never normally do it so it's just a small change." Changbin smiled brightly and ticked yes that he would be coming along to the party then he handed the rest of the boys their invitation so they could accept it as well. 

"We haven't been to your place yet so it'll be like a house warming party at the same time, shall I bring some cookies?" Felix seemed just as excited about this as you did but you shook your head at him promising him that you would have everything at the party. 

"Just come along and it'll be fun." Changbin looked back at the invitation, it was just like you. Cute but not too showy, simple yet all at the same time brilliant. 

"We'll be there babe," You leant down giving him a small kiss on the lips not caring hat the rest of the boys were in the room. Changnbin and you had been together for two years they were used to the skinship by now, 

"I have to go, I promised Sooyoung I'd go cake tasting with her for the party." You kissed him again before getting up from his lap, you wished you could have stayed there all day instead but there was lots to do in preparation for your birthday next week and you wanted to get as much done before the date arrived while you still could. 

On your way out of the dorms building, you posted the invitations into the mailbox smiling brightly at the thought of all your friends coming. For someone who was quiet and reserved you had a lot of friends, you were a lot like Chan in that case, you were a social butterfly that seemed to make friends with everyone you came into contact with.

The house was decorated from top to bottom, including the downstairs bathroom since you wanted people to be able to find where they needed to go if they had to go. Music was blaring through the speakers as you walked around the house to make sure everything was in place for the party to start. Everyone you'd invited had agreed to come tonight so you were looking forward to it even though Changbin told you he was running a little late you didn't mind since it was his job and other people would be joining you soon. The jelly shots were laid out on a tray in the kitchen, drinking games were at the ready all you had to do was wait for people to show up and party.

An agonizingly slow hour passed no one was there in your apartment, you were still sat on the sofa where you'd been waiting for someone to show up at the door. You thought that they'd start showing up sooner or later but as time passed you realised it wasn't happening so you took out your phone to see if anyone had text you to let you know what was happening but there were no new notifications. Changbin must have still been stuck at the studio so you didn't call him and ask when he was coming round, it would make you feel pathetic having just him there when you'd gone through all this effort to throw a huge party. You tried not to think badly at first, maybe they'd gotten the time wrong or something like there but there was a nagging in the back of your head.

Another slow hour ticked by and you were still sitting on the sofa in the same position alone, music softly playing in the background as the food began to cold, you slid your phone out to check on social media and that was when you saw all of your friends at some new club that had opened up in town. All of them too intoxicated to care that they'd missed out on coming to see you on your birthday or call you to let you know something else had come up, you felt a stab in your chest as you realised they didn't care to be with you. 

"Oh..." You whispered clicking through each of their stories to see them all having what looked like great fun, yelling, singing and dancing around the club that was somewhere in the middle of Seoul city centre. Feeling defeated you got up from the sofa and went into the kitchen to turn off the music and start cleaning up but as soon as you saw everything sitting there, wasted and ready for the bins you broke down into tears. It felt like not even a single person had cared to tell you they didn't want to come, they'd filled you with all the hope of them coming only to let you down...Not even that! Not even tell you that they weren't coming because they decided something better had come up. You should have known you were always the last choice, no one cared when it came to you it seemed. Tears began to well up in your eyes so you walked towards the bathroom slamming the door behind you, you needed to shower and get out of the party dress you'd gotten specifically for tat night but the zip was jammed. 

"Fuck!" You yelled pulling at it roughly until it busts at the seams and you could step out of the ruined dress and got under the running water in the shower cubicle just sitting on the floor as you brought your knees into your chest to cry.

Midnight struck on the clock in the living room but you didn't feel like it was your birthday at all, you'd spent the last two hours packing up food into containers that you could eat for a while. The cake was sitting on the kitchen side and you debated throwing it onto the floor in a pitty party fit but you knew you'd be the one that had to clean it up. 

"Fuck it," You opened the drawers up taking out a candle and lighter before placing it into the centre of the cake, 

"Happy Birthday me," You whispered to yourself before blowing out the candle, tears began to well up again. You felt beyond pitiful about crying on your birthday but you felt disappointed after everyone had promised to come, including your boyfriend who still hadn't bothered to contact you about anything. 

"Another year of age," You mumbled pushing the cake back onto the side and heading towards the stairs, you just wanted to crawl into bed and feel sorry for yourself a little while longer but the front door burst open and Changbin stood there panting, 

"The party is here-" He stopped himself from yelling when he noticed you standing on the stairs in a pair of shorts and one of his shirts, 

"Baby? Where is everyone?" He reached out to touch you but you recoiled away from him not wanting him to touch you, 

"At some club in town," You mumbled turning away from him as he shut the door locking it behind him, he was trying to follow you up but you slammed the bedroom door behind you. 

"Babe!" He called out while he knocked on the door begging for you to open it but you just crawled into the bed crying into your knees as you thought about how stupid you must have looked waiting for everyone to come by and see you.

"Baby come on! Me and the guys were busy that's why we didn't come, let me in...Please." You sobbed harder hearing him beg like that but right now you just wanted to be left alone to cry for a little while. You'd gotten so excited over something that wasn't worth it that no one even seemed to care about, not even your own boyfriend cared enough to let you know he was too busy to come along. You wouldn’t have been so upset if someone had just text you and told you, instead of leading you to believe your birthday was going to be fun.

The next morning you woke up to the smell of burning and yelling in the kitchen, 

"Jisung move your fat ass!" Changbin screamed you rubbed your arms as you walked into your small kitchen to see all of the guys standing around in aprons with birthday hats on their heads which made you feel even worse than last night.

"What's this?" You mumbled to Changbin who came over to greet you with a kiss, 

"I thought we could have a birthday breakfast." Minho looked at you and from one look who knew you didn't want them there, he'd heard about last night from Changbin but there was nothing they could have done which you understood but it would have taken one call from one of them to let you know.

"I don't want your pity party Changbin," You groaned as he put a hat onto your head, 

"Y/n-"

"No, Chan, don't Y/n me...You weren't here you didn't know what it felt like to be waiting up for everyone to show up only to have them plaster how happy they were everywhere else." Your voice cracked as you began to cry about the night before again you promised yourself not to do this but it hurt, Changbin wrapped his arms around you pulling you to cry in his chest while the other boys left your apartment. There was a crushing feeling in your chest as you continued to think about the previous night, having such high hopes all for it to come crashing down.

"I'm sorry babe, I just thought that if we could make it up to you, it would make you feel better." He cupped your face in his hands wiping the tears off your face as you whimpered a little. 

"I just want to stuff my face and watch stupid movies," You mumbled to him looking at the breakfast that he'd been attempting to make but most of it was burnt, 

"I have leftovers from last night." You mumbled taking two plates over to the tubs of food that were waiting for you to eat, 

"You're going to get cake later as well." He promised you, kissing your lips softly as you walked past him to go back up to the bedroom. 

"Where are you going? I didn't plate two plates of food for myself." You mumbled when you saw him attempting to leave through the front door, 

"I thought you were upset with me," 

"I am but it doesn't mean I want to spend my birthday alone. Upstairs." You giggled softly not wanting to punish Changbin too much, you knew you couldn’t blame him forever. A small laugh left your throat as Changbin did a little dance before rushing up the stairs behind you

Tagline: @taestannie​ @jooniesdarlingdimples​ @peachyhan​

[daveeddiggsit]

No Return

Note: so this is not a new fic. i actually posted it back in 2017 (but deleted all my smut from this blog about a year afterwards haha we love being impulsive). but i’m over myself now, so i’m reposting! a lot of you have been asking about it, so... here you go. posted for all of y’all to enjoy again.

Word Count: 4.7k

Pairing: Daveed Diggs x Reader

Warnings: smut. cursing.

Summary: Diggs loses a bet which results in him owing you a lap dance.

Parties at Rafa’s place were always the best; the drinks were great, the music was amazing, the atmosphere was never dull, but the best part about them were the incredible people that made up each one; you were never bored. There was always something to do whether you were talking to people, dancing, playing drinking games, or just drinking in general. And that’s why whenever you were told that there was going to be a party at Rafael Casal’s apartment, you never turned it down...even if you ended up showing up late.

“Well, look at who finally decided to show up.” You heard a familiar voice say as you walked through the door to Rafa’s place. Daveed grinned widely at you before he slid an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close to him as you walked deeper into the apartment. “My favorite!”

Daveed was one of your closest friends and if you were being honest, it would have been a lie if you said you didn’t want him to become something more than that. The two of you often flirted and were constantly together (these occurrences happened so often that there were many times people believed you were dating), but neither of you had made a real move. You knew how you felt toward him, and he was giving you signs that he felt the same way, but no true actions were made by either party. So that’s why it stayed the way it was between you two: just close friends who often flirted with each other.

“Aw, I’m your favorite?” You asked, raising your voice so he could hear you over the loud music that was pumping through Rafa’s speakers.

“Uh, yeah,” he stated as if it was obvious, “but don’t tell anyone else. It’s a secret between you and me.” He whispered in your ear as you entered the kitchen.

Yeah, he had definitely downed a few drinks before you got here.

“Diggs, I’m pretty sure everyone heard you when you shouted it.” You laughed as you plucked the cup half-full of alcohol from his grasp, draining it of its contents. He pouted at you once you handed him back an empty cup.

“Y/N, hey! It’s been forever since I’ve seen you!” Adrienne said from beside Rafa who was pouring out a few drinks.

“Hey!” You pulled away from Daveed’s grasp to give her a hug. She’d been away in Canada for the last few weeks shooting for a new project she was working on. “I’ve missed you! Why’d you have to leave me alone to deal with these boys for so long?”

Adrienne laughed while Rafael furrowed his eyebrows.

“Oh, so you didn’t miss me? I see how it is, Y/N, I see how it is.” He feigned hurt, before pushing a couple of newly filled cups towards you and Daveed.

You rolled your eyes at him. “We had lunch a few days ago, Cash, it hasn’t been that long since I’ve seen you.”

“But so much has changed since then.”

You chuckled before taking a sip. “Like what? Did you finally finish that song you’ve been working on?”

“No.” Rafael replied before he smiled at Adrienne beside him. “Unlike Diggs, I am no longer a single and lonely Bay Boy.”

Daveed’s eyebrows furrowed as he cocked his head. “Yo, who said I was lone—?”

“You guys are finally together? Oh my god, congrats!” You cut in with widened eyes.

They both grinned at each other before Rafa leaned down to kiss her forehead.

“Aww,” you gushed, “you two are couple goals already.”

A few seconds passed before you felt Daveed’s arm drape around your shoulders again.

“You know, we could be couple goals too.” He said, looking down at you with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes, pushing him away. “Ha, you wish, Diggs.”

You laughed it off because you knew he was too tipsy to be serious. He always flirted with you like this, but why did this time feel so different?

A few drinks later, you were beginning to feel the familiar light-hearted, buzzing feeling course throughout your body, giving you a boost of energy. You had drifted away from Daveed and Rafa to roam through the house and catch up with people you hadn’t seen since your Hamilton days. You were talking with Adrienne and Ari when you heard your name being called from behind you.

“Aye, Y/L/N!”

You turned your head to see Daveed standing next to a table a few feet away. 

“Diggs!” You responded in the same playful tone.

He grinned at you before waving you over. “Come play Flip Cup with me.”

“Really?” You quirked an eyebrow. “You lose every time you play against me, D.”

“I’m feeling confident today. I’ve been practicing.”

You tried not to laugh as you rose from your seat and approached him. “Practicing?”

“Bruh,” Rafa snickered at his friend from the other end of the table. “You played a few games before this and won two in a row. That ain’t practicing.”

You let a smug grin show up on your face as you glanced back up at your best friend. “Daveed, I am the queen of Flip Cup, okay? You can’t beat me. Nobody ever has, and nobody ever will. That’s a fact.”

“I’m pretty sure I can beat you today, Y/N.” He said bluntly. Wow, he was forward when he was drunk. “I have a good feeling about this.”

“Ha,” you huffed out a laugh, “wanna bet?"

“What do you propose, oh mighty Queen of Flip Cup?”

You thought for a second. What was something you knew would make him think twice about challenging you? Something that would make him step down from this newfound cockiness he embodied.

When the idea formed in your head, you sent him a sly grin. “Winner gets a lap dance from the loser.”

You distinctly remembered an earlier conversation with him where he stated that he couldn’t dance. You knew it was untrue due to the times you’d seen him dance at the club or during some of the numbers in Hamilton, but you also knew that the wager wasn’t something he’d necessarily jump on (despite the confidence boost the alcohol had supplied him).

Rafa led the mini crowd that had formed around you in a chorus of “ooo”s.

“Deal.”

You looked up at Daveed in surprise. You hadn’t expected him to agree to the terms so easily.

“Diggs, that means if you lose— sorry, when you lose, you have to give me a lap dance.”

“I know.” He said seriously.

“And you’re good with that?”

“If it happens, which it won’t because I’m gonna win, then yes.” He stated, his mouth forming into a confident smile. “I’m good with that.”

Fine, he wanted a challenge? You were going to give him one.

“Alright, then.” You said, narrowing your eyes at him. “Game on."

⋆﹥━━━━━━━   ♛   ━━━━━━━﹤⋆

Daveed lost. Badly.

So badly, in fact, that you actually felt bad for him. So you tweaked it so it was the best out of five games...and even then, he still lost.

Oh well, it’s not like you didn’t warn him.

When the third game ended and Daveed realized his defeat, he threw his head back and groaned.

“Aww, don’t be such a sore loser. You lost fair and square, Diggs. ” You teased with a smile, wrapping your arms around his torso to hug him from behind. “I warned you. I told you I was the queen of Flip Cup, but you didn’t listen.”

“Those cups were rigged, Y/N.” He stated, turning around in your grasp so he could hug you back.

You laughed, rolling your eyes. “Say whatever you want to make yourself feel better. Nothing’s gonna change the fact that you owe me a lap dance.”

He was quiet for a moment before he murmured something. “You know I can’t dance, right?”

“First of all, yes you can. And secondly, lap dances are different, Diggs.”

“No, they’re not.”

“Yes they are. And if you don’t think they’re different, you dance at parties all the fucking time. You should be able to handle an easy lap dance.”

He lifted his head back up from your shoulder to look down at you. “But Y/N...”

You let out a laugh before you patted his cheek lightly. “You dug yourself into this hole, loser. Guess you’re just gonna have to figure it out because you’re not getting out of this one.”

⋆﹥━━━━━━━   ♛   ━━━━━━━﹤⋆

The next day you woke up to someone knocking on your door. In sweats and an old t-shirt, you made your way over to unlock it, squinting your eyes to adjust to the bright light. The slight hangover you had wasn’t really helping you get out of your groggy state.

“Daveed?” You asked, realizing who your visitor was once your vision adjusted. “What are you doing here so early?”

He was dressed in a yellow Oaklandish tank top that showed off his toned arms/shoulders and dark blue jeans with a brown belt buckled just enough to let them sit loosely on his hips. You also noticed that he decided to rock his glasses today.

You snapped your eyes up to his and away from his figure that left you breathless. You totally had not just checked him out.

“If your definition of early is 2 o’clock in the afternoon, I think you may need to reevaluate some things and consider fixing that sleep schedule of yours.” He replied with his lips turning up into an amused grin.

“Shut up, I had a late night last night.” You mumbled, turning around to walk away, leaving the door open so he could let himself into your apartment. “And you did too. I’m surprised you’re not asleep right now.” You glanced back at him to see him shrug.

“I had to meet Bill and Jon at the studio at 10. I’ve been up since, like, 9:30.”

“Damn, Diggs, you’re gonna have to teach me your ways.”

“Caffeine.” He chuckled, putting on his signature grin. “It works miracles.”

You returned the smile, before sending him a curious look. “So, why are you here? Not that I mind or anything, it’s good to see you, but you haven’t been over in like a month and a half.”

“Exactly! It’s been awhile since we’ve hung out alone, so I thought it’d be dope if we chilled and watched movies or something.” He replied before he went to ramble on. “I mean— only if you want to. If you’re really tired, I can leave so you can get some more sl—”

“No, no, it’s fine! That sounds great.” You cut him off and placed a hand on one of his toned arms to reassure him. 

“You sure?”

“Yeah!” You responded. “Just let me take a quick shower and we can start in like 20ish minutes.”

“A 20 minute shower counts as a quick shower?” He questioned with a teasing look.

“Yes,” you said, “or would you rather it be 45ish minutes?”

“20ish minutes is good. Have fun with your quick shower. Though, I think it would be more fun if I joined.” A tiny but noticeable smirk made its way onto Daveed’s face.

You laughed when he sent you a playful wink, dropping your hand from his arm to walk towards your room. “You wish, Daveed Diggs.”

“You have no idea.” He mumbled under his breath (inaudible to your ears) before he let his eyes follow your retreating figure.

“Maybe you could set up the movie in the meantime? It’s your turn to choose. The remote’s on the coffee table and you know where the popcorn and shit is in the kitchen. I’ll be out soon. If you need anything, yell.” You said before closing the door to your room.

Daveed sent a thumbs up in your direction even though he knew you couldn’t see it before he made his way to your living room.

Little did you know, Daveed had something else planned.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━   ♛   ━━━━━━━﹤⋆

When you emerged from your shower, you quickly dried yourself and combed through your now damp hair. After that, you exited your room and entered your living room to see that it was completely dark. Confused, you surveyed the room to look for your best friend, but there was no sign of him at all.

Did he leave? If he did, he didn’t text you or anything to let you know.

“D?” You called out, walking further into the room.

With each step you took, the more you realized how this seemed like a scene from a horror film. You weren’t a fan of them, but a few months back Daveed and Rafael had pretty much forced you to have a scary movie marathon with them.

“Daveed Diggs, I swear to God. If you’re trying to scare me right now, I will—”

You squeaked when a pair of arms snaked their way around your waist from behind. Daveed’s voice had come seemingly from out of nowhere. “You’ll what?”

“Kick your ass.” You glared at him, quickly turning around to push him away. “What the hell is wrong with you?!”

He laughed, smiling brightly. “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“No, you’re not.” You grumbled, moving to sit on your couch. Daveed followed you.

“You right. It was so worth it.” He grinned at you, causing you to roll your eyes at him. You tried to stay mad at him, but it was damn near impossible when he was looking at you like that.

“We’re not friends anymore.” You stated, crossing your arms.

“What, why?” He asked, his grin dropping into a pout.

“You were mean to me, Diggs! How dare you scare me in my own home!” You were laughing internally.

“Okay, fine. I’m sorry for real this time. What can I do to make it up to you?”

When he asked, you contemplated it for a few moments before you looked up at him with a smirk.

“What?” He asked.

“Well, you still owe me that lap dance…”

He groaned, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back on the couch. “I thought you forgot about that.”

“Nope.” You said, your smirk forming into a smug grin. You had the upper hand now. “How could I forget you losing a bet against me, resulting in a lap dance from the great Daveed Diggs himself?”

After a couple of seconds, he sighed, opening his eyes and tilting his face towards you. “If I do this now, will I win back your friendship?”

“I’ll think about it.” You said, causing him to give you a deadpanned look. You laughed before you spoke again. “Yeah, I guess we could be friends again. But it has to be good.”

Daveed sighed again before he straightened himself up. “I don’t even know how to give a good lap dance, Y/N.”

“Improvise. C’mon, D, you’re great at improv. Treat it like you treat a freestyle. Just go with the flow.” You smiled widely at him.

“Fine.” He said, getting up from his spot next to you. “But I’m only pulling through with this because I like you.”

“Aww, you like me?” You asked teasingly to mask the actual feeling that was coursing through you. You continued to grin at him as he pulled out his phone to scroll through his music library. When he finally settled on a song by The Weeknd, he turned to you once he pressed play.

“Do I start now?”

“Yes,” you laughed. “C’mon, you know how a lap dance works. You’re not a novice when it comes to these things, stop fucking around.”

You could see him smile and rub his arm before he looked away for a second. When he started to slowly sway to the beat of the song, it was extremely hard for you to stifle your laugh. Your best friend was about to give you a lap dance and you could not take him seriously.

He continued to dance to the beat for a bit as he stared you down with a smirk. He was doing this shit on purpose. He was joking around until you couldn’t contain your laughter any longer.

“Diggs, I can’t take you seriously like this. I can—” You wheezed. “I just can’t.”

Your laughter and the slow, sexy beats of the music were the only audible things in your apartment until Daveed spoke again. 

“Are you ready for me, Y/N?” His smooth, low voice washed over you.

You let out yet another giggle. “Don’t make it sound so sexual.”

“It's supposed to sound sexual, Y/N, it’s a fucking lap dance.” He chuckled, now standing directly in front of you.

“Alright, show me what you got, Bay Boy.”

You continued to laugh at him as you watched him, but the moment he straddled your lap, you stopped. His arms were on each side of your head, using the couch to steady himself over you as his hips began to slowly grind against you. That’s when the atmosphere in the room completely changed.

Your eyes widened slightly when you saw him bite his bottom lip in concentration. When you envisioned Daveed giving you a lap dance the night prior, you didn’t think it would be like this...it was flustering you more than you thought it would. Before you knew it, you were struggling to control your movements. Your fists were clenching and unclenching as you so desperately tried to keep them anchored to your sides.

As if he had read your mind, Daveed murmured, “You can touch me, Y/N. Don’t be afraid.”

If you weren’t turned on before, you definitely were now. His gravelly voice paired with his hot breath right next to your ear caused you to shiver, making goosebumps appear across your entire body.

Then, you finally let your hands wander. They traveled up his chest to rest on his shoulders, then back down again to move under the hem of his tank top so you could feel his bare and strong torso. Sure it was a bold move, but the more and more Daveed grinded on you, the less and less you cared. When his tank top rode up to the point where you could see all of his abs, he paused to stand up and quickly get rid of the article of clothing before he came back to straddle you again. 

Your heart was beating wildly in your chest as you looked up at your best friend. He looked undeniably attractive when he was on top of you shirtless and with his glasses on. Every feeling you had ever felt for him came crashing down on you at that moment and that’s when you just about lost your self-control. Part of your brain was screaming at you, saying that you were about to cross a line that you could never cross again...but at the same time, all of your cares had disappeared.

You used your newfound courage to cup Daveed’s face in both of your hands and pull him into a deep kiss. He gasped softly, surprised at the sudden contact, but quickly eased into it. 

You had just passed the point of no return.

You didn’t know what to expect when you decided to kiss him, but it was better than you could have imagined. When you pulled back, his mouth was slightly dropped in awe and one of the sides slowly twitched up into a soft smile. (It was kind of adorable.)

“Daveed, I like you.” You blurted, short of breath.

His face broke out into a full grin. “I like you too, Y/N.” 

“No,” you shook your head, moving your hands from his cheeks down to his shoulders. “I mean like— like like you.”

“I know,” he chuckled. “I mean, I figured given what just happened a few seconds ago. Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

You shrugged, breaking eye contact with him. You subconsciously traced one of your thumbs across his collarbone. “I was afraid of rejection, I guess.”

“Are you serious?”

“What?” You asked, sounding offended.

Daveed caught your gaze again, pushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Y/N, I’ve had like the biggest fuckin’ crush on you since Ari introduced us.”

“Wait, really?”

“Mhm,” he hummed. “I’m actually really surprised you didn’t notice.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about your crush earlier, Diggs?” You voiced, giving him a pointed look.

He gave you a shy smile when he moved off of you to sit beside you, still facing you. “Same reason as you.”

“You know what? I’m not even mad about not knowing sooner.” You said. “I’m glad we found out like this.”

“You’re just happy I gave you a lap dance with my amazing skills.” He teased with a laugh of his own.

You laughed again, and pushed at his chest so he could lay on his back and let you crawl on top of him to straddle his waist. “Not gonna lie, I didn’t think you had it in you, Diggs.”

His jaw dropped completely as he looked up at you. “But you said that I could do a lap dance when even I said I couldn’t!”

“That’s true, but to be fair, I never said you couldn’t do a lap dance. I just didn’t think you’d do as well as you did.”

Your response brought yet another smile to his face as you leaned closer to him. “I’mma take that as a compliment.” He said softly.

At this point, the song Daveed had chosen had ended a while ago and the lap dance was long over.

“Good.” You responded before you kissed him again.

This one was different from the first. It started off soft, but quickly turned passionate and heated. As your mouths moved against each other, Daveed’s hands moved from your hips up to the hem of your shirt, his fingertips grazing your bare sides, leaving goosebumps in their wake. The only word you could use to describe this feeling was just complete bliss.

When you reached down to Daveed’s belt buckle, he shivered, causing you to smile against his lips.

Then he pulled away, panting. “Y/N…” he breathed. “Are you sure about this? You don’t have to— fuck.” He cursed as you pulled back completely to unbuckle his pants. “I don’t wanna push y—” 

“Daveed,” You said, before pausing quickly to put a hand on his scruff, tenderly moving your thumb to caress his cheek. “I’m absolutely sure about this. Now please, shut the hell up so I can blow you.”

You smirked when you saw his eyes widen and when you crawled off of him to go in between his legs, you heard a quiet, “Okay.”

Wasting no more time, you removed his jeans and boxers to free his erection. You could see Daveed’s chest begin to rise and fall quicker when you took his length into your hand and pressed a kiss to the tip of it.

“Oh, shiiit.” He drawled softly when your mouth wrapped around him, slowly sucking your way down as far as you could. As you began to bob your head up and down, Daveed’s breathing increased with each suck and occasional flick of your tongue.

Now, he was fully panting. He lifted his head up to look down at you, causing him to groan. After a minute or two, he brought a hand down to move some strands of hair out of your face.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he babbled, “I...I shouldn’t...oh God, I shouldn’t be this fucking close.”

You slowly pulled off of him and he brought you back up to kiss him again.

“You,” Daveed breathed against your lips, “are way too fucking good at that.”

You grinned.

“And,” he continued, “this clothing situation is a bit unbalanced, don’t you think?” 

His thumbs grazed the waistband of your sweatpants. When you nodded, you pulled them down along with your underwear. You moved off of him to take them off completely and remove your shirt and bra, leaving you just as bare as he was.

You climbed back on top of him, straddling his washboard abs, when he ushered you to move up. You obeyed, moving forward an inch or two, but Daveed shook his head and grabbed your thighs, moving you himself.

“Daveed, what are you doing?”

“Returning the favor.” He said simply, bringing you over to his face.

“Oh,” you breathed when you felt his tongue lightly touch your clit.

The man’s mouth worked miracles from between your thighs. Daveed kept you still above his skilled tongue, occasionally giving your ass a squeeze.

“D-Daveed,” you gasped, your mouth forming a perfect ‘O’ as his tongue lightly circled your clit before he brought fully into his mouth to suck gently.

This was the best head you’d gotten...well ever, actually. He wanted you to feel the best you’d ever felt and he definitely achieved that.

Before you knew it, you were reaching your high, climaxing as you shouted Daveed’s name, not caring how loud it echoed throughout your apartment. When you crawled back down Daveed’s body, the two of you shared a sloppy kiss as you both breathed heavily.

Although you just came, you weren’t completely satisfied. You still wanted him... needed to feel him inside you.

You moved to position yourself above his cock, but he made you pause before you could do so.

“Y/N, stop,” Daveed panted. “Condom.”

“Don’t need it.” You replied quickly. “I’m on the pill.”

“Oh, fuck yes.” He replied, releasing you so you could resume what you were about to do.

You breathed out a laugh before you slowly sank down onto his length, making both you and him release a groan. 

“You are so fucking gorgeous,” he gasped. “You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this.”

Your fingers ghosted along his stubble-ridden jaw. “I think I have an idea.”

When you adjusted to his size, you began to bounce and he helped you, meeting each of your thrusts as he guided your hips onto him.

Your lips met Daveed’s yet again and you captured every moan that fell from his mouth, he did the same for you. As your pace quickened, so did each grunt, pant, and moan. You felt your pussy begin to clench again like it had when you came before.

“I’m gonna come,” Daveed said quickly against your mouth.

“Fuck.” You groaned. “Me too, D.”

“Come for me, sweetheart.” He breathed, bringing a hand up from your hip to cup your cheek. “You can do it.”

And you did.

Your walls clenched around him and you gasped, letting your orgasm wash over you in waves. Daveed came shortly after you, and continued to thrust, riding the both of you through your highs.

As you came down and pulled yourself off him, you collapsed, exhausted, halfway leaning on him and halfway laying on your couch. You moved a hand up to rest on his chest again, closing your eyes in bliss as you relaxed against him.

After a minute or two of silence, Daveed broke it.

“Wait, so...does this mean we’re friends again?” 

You looked up at him with a raised eyebrow. He was still on that? Wow, what a dork. “After this? Everything that just happened?” You asked bewildered. “God, I hope not.”

“Fine,” he said letting his signature bright smile show up on his face, still breathing heavily. “More than friends?”

Your heart fluttered in your chest and you grinned widely back at him. You leaned up to softly kiss his jaw before you gave him your answer.

“Way more than just friends, D.”

[illfoandillfie]

Maybe a ben POV one? where bens off on a movie shoot and misses you and wants to fly you out to him but he’s worried it’s too much of a “romantic gesture” like in movies so he doesn’t want to weird you out but then on the phone you say how much you miss him too so he gathers the nerve to ask you and you’re like duh ofc I’ll come you dork (im envisioning this still kinda early in the qpr maybe right after platonically or smth)

Thank you so much babe!!

This is the second of the blurbs for my Platonically themed event! This one follows directly on from the one I posted yesterday so maybe read it first.

Words: 1,759

Warnings: just two idiots being dummies. Minor references to sex and probably some swearing but that's about it.

Reflecting on the situation, Ben had come to the conclusion that it was the perfect time to be in Greece. The run of beautiful weather they’d had over the course of the last month must have set some sort of record, he thought. Every day was blue skies, white fluffy clouds, and the sort of heat that was comfortable and not overly sticky. It made working a dream, especially when half the film seemed to take place on the beach. The sand was warm under his feet and the water clear and cool. They didn’t have much down time since the studio was pushing for it to be finished ASAP so they could release it at the optimal time, but the few days off they did get, Ben spent either fishing with some of the crew or else exploring the picturesque town they were in. There was just one downside. You weren’t with him.

Whenever the thought crossed his mind, whenever he really started to miss you, he’d remind himself that he loved his job, loved that it took him to exciting and beautiful places. And then he’d send you a quick message to check how everything was back home. He called too, mostly in the evenings after he got back to his hotel room. But the deeper into the project he got the more night shoots there were and the later he got back to his room. What brief conversations you had were good but not quite the same as if you’d been there with him. Of course, he’d try to remind himself that it wasn’t like he’d never been away from you before. But those times had all been before you got together, and the changed nature of the relationship made him feel your absence more. He never said that to you though. Mostly, when you could talk, Ben would ask how you were and talk about the exciting things he saw. He’d tell you about the beaches or the trinket shops and say how much you’d like them but he’d never tell you exactly how badly he wished you were with him. He didn’t want you to take it the wrong way and he didn’t trust himself to explain it properly. Whenever he tried to verbalise it (quietly, to his reflection or the dark hotel room he was staying in) he worried it came out too...well, romantic.

The truth was, he’d always been attached to you, since very early on in your relationship. You just got him. His sense of humour and his personality and the way he thought. It took him no time at all to start referring to you as one of his best friends and it was a title you’d held for years. But then he’d realised the way he liked you wasn’t strictly platonic, and it made him feel weird around you. More uncertain than he was used to. He found it hard to describe the relief he’d felt when you agreed to think about his QPR idea or how, when you’d accepted, it had alleviated the uncertainty and doubts that had been plaguing him. To you it would probably sound sappy and sentimental and tat all what you wanted to hear from him. Of course the QPR was really just an extension of your friendship. More or less the same, just a few new ways to show affection like kissing and getting you off (both things Ben greatly enjoyed), and a few new words that made it specific to the two of you. And maybe a new future too, depending on how things went. But again, while he might think those sorts of thoughts, he wouldn’t know how to begin saying any of them to you. Because he was starting to really want that future with you, and saying so might make it impossible to get there.

So Ben allowed himself to miss you quietly. Occasionally an idea of inviting you to join him would pop into his head. But he always let the thought go as quickly as it came. The weeks ticked by like that. Texting when you could between scenes and less and less frequent calls at night, which left Ben’s head swimming with lots of unsaid things. Progress was made on the movie too, most of the beach scenes wrapped and everyone moving to other parts of the script. Until everything came to a screeching halt. Ben wasn’t entirely sure what the problem was – something to do with scheduling conflicts or maybe special equipment that hadn’t arrived on time. All he was told was that things would be back up and running soon but it might take an extra few weeks to complete the project. He didn’t mind so much, it gave him a bit of extra free time after all, but it also meant he wouldn’t get to see you again for a while.

The possibility of flying you out to Greece to join him had been rattling around his brain since his third week on set. You could spend a couple of weeks, maybe a month, together. He could take you to that restaurant he’d sent you photos of and show you the handmade stationery shop he’d stumbled across that he knew you’d have fun exploring. And then there was the rest of the town, thin streets to get lost in together and beautiful views to look out over. Maybe you’d like to walk along the beach with him and collect seashells or rent a little dingy to take out on the waves. Once or twice he’d come close to actually asking you to join him but he always talked himself out of it, sure it would be crossing a line for you. Missing you was one thing but offering to buy you a plane ticket and whisk you off on a getaway to a gorgeous Greek island was surely too romantic. But the news of the delay made him consider it again.

That night he called you, smiling as soon as he heard your voice. At first the call was like any other. He listened to you talk about what had been going on since he last had a chance to call, getting caught up on your mutual friends and your work and whatever else came to mind. “But what about you?” you finally said, “You must be pretty busy since I haven’t had a call from you in a little while.” “Well I was busy except not so much right now,” “Oh?” “There’s some sort of delay, I don’t the details. But it looks like I’ll be here for another few weeks at least.” “Oh.” Ben was a little surprised by how disappointed you sounded. “I really miss you,” “I miss you too,” his voice got softer as he said it, “a lot.” “I really wish I could see you,” “Well,” he said sheepishly, hoping he wasn’t reading things wrong, “how would you feel about coming out here then? I can get you a plane ticket if you want.” “No shit! You can do that? You won’t like, get in trouble or anything?” Ben laughed, not quite understanding, “What are you talking about?” “I don’t know man, I’m not an actor. I just figured it’d be like a partner free zone. Like they wouldn’t want you getting distracted or whatever.” “You fucking dork,” his laughter threatened to obscure the words but he managed to make himself heard, “That’s not how it is at all. You being here wouldn’t be a problem, as long as I’m on set when they need me. Plus it looks like we’re about to have a whole lot of downtime anyway. So does that mean you wanna come?” “Ummm let me think abo- of course Ben!” “Well if I’d known you’d react like this I would have asked sooner,” The laughter had faded, leaving a grin on his face, though the embarrassment at his hesitancy was creeping up too. “Wish you had’ve. Why didn’t you?” “I just didn’t want you to take it the wrong way,” “And what way would that be?” “A romantic way? I don’t know! It’s just the sort of thing that’d happen in a romantic movie or whatever and I didn’t want to come across like that. It’s Greece man, it’s kind of a romantic place. Maybe not like Paris but it’s up there. Don’t laugh,” he groaned, “I’m just saying, white sands and clear seas and lots of pretty flowers in bloom, it’s definitely got romantic vibes.” “It didn’t even cross my mind that it might be that sort of thing. No offence to Greece, I’m sure it’s lovely.” Ben let himself chuckle at his idiocy, “I guess cause I’ve like, y’know, got feelings for you or whatever I saw the romantic side and assumed you would too. Feel silly for not just asking you but I’m glad we have that sorted now.” “I think it’s sweet, Ben. I love that you were conscious of how it might be perceived and I understand you didn’t want to hurt me. But yeah, dude, please get me that ticket, I miss you a stupid amount.” “Alright, I’m on it. When do you want to leave?”

Two days later and Ben was content, sitting and staring out at the waves on a quiet beach as you rubbed sunscreen into his back. He’d greeted you at the airport, feeling ridiculously excited to see you, squeezing you in a tight hug (which you later suggested had cracked one of your ribs). “Okay, all done, now let me do your front,” you shuffled around Ben on your knees, throwing a leg over his lap as he leaned back on his palms. “You’re such a perv,” Ben chuckled, subtly adjusting his posture to push his chest further towards you, “I bet you only suggested sunscreen so you could feel my boobs.” “Oh you caught me,” you squirted some more of the cream directly onto his chest, beginning to rub it in, “Definitely nothing to do with sun safety.” “No I get it, you don’t need to lie to me. You missed my pecks. It’s totally natural. But let me know when you’re done so I can show you the same courtesy.” "Think we might save that till we get back to the hotel, Benny,”  Ben laughed at your exasperated expression, raising one arm to pull you toward him for a kiss, barely noticing the cool of the cream still on your palm as you cupped his cheek and kissed him back.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Hey! I have a funny idea! Ok, maybe not funny. But an idea. How about Reader pranks Mondo, Fiuhiko (baby gangsta i cant spell), Hoshi, Mikado and Tsurugi (policeman from DRA, did i spell it right) with a bloody copy of themselves as if they died (say Reader is Ultimate Horror Actor or something) only to comfort guys later for this cruel prank of theirs xd

Aw yesss another Mr. (not-so) Friendly Policeman

..............

Mondo

As a delinquent, he’s done a lot of pranks during his time at school, and he knew you were quite a prankster yourself.

Though seeing a fake dead body that looked exactly like you may have been a bit too extreme.

Fortunately you come along right after he sees it and you can’t help but chuckle, making him jump as he spins around to see your grin.

For a moment he looks back at the body and then to you, stunned in silence, before he tackles you in a hug.

“Did I getcha~?”

“D-Damn right you did.....that shit looked realistic as hell!!!”

You tell him that’s what he gets for dating an Ultimate who could create horror movie props.

He’ll never admit you legitimately scared him into thinking you actually died, though he took extra precautions and made you wear a helmet/ protective gear whenever he took you out on his motorcycle from there on.

Fuyuhiko

Not even half-an-hour passes after you set up your prank before you hear this loud “WHAT THE FUCK” throughout the house.

And you can’t help but crack up and start laughing yourself.

Then you see your baby gangsta boyfriend run into the room you’re hiding in, panic and fury written all over his face.

“Holy SHIT s/o you had me worried SICK!! I know you’re a horror artist and all but that fucking FREAKED ME OUT WHAT WERE YOU THINKING--”

He shuts up surprisingly fast when you kiss him on the cheek, before apologizing for scaring him, thinking it was something funny and harmless.

Well..it did turn out harmless but it clearly wasn’t funny to him.

He just huffs and cuddles up to you, gradually calming down as he hears your breathing and knows you’re alive and safe.

Ryoma

The tennis pro has seen his fair share of dead bodies, becoming numb to the sight of them.

But for it to be you? Oh no...

The cigarette falls from his mouth as it hangs open in shock, though he tries calming himself down and thinks logically: it couldn’t have been anyone from the mafia, and he surely would’ve seen the blood and heard your screams if you were in danger.

Even so, it’s still a horrible sight to stumble upon--a sight he’s afraid of becoming real one day...

He’s quick to leave the room and find you, frowning when he asks if this was suppose to be some sick joke.

Obviously he’s not happy about it in the slightest, and you do admit it was a poorly-executed prank.

He forgives you, but it’ll take a long time for his paranoia of you dying to subside, so you spend a lot more time with him, reassuring him you aren’t leaving so easily.

Mikado

He just teleports into your studio one day with a plate of food, all smiles as he knows you’ve been working hard with your horror movie props..

Only to drop the plate upon seeing you sitting lifelessly in a chair, covered in blood.

“Oh no, nonononono-”

He wants to believe it’s just a prop. He’s aware you’re exceptionally good at making realistic blood and gore, but he isn’t so sure since he hasn’t seen you around most of the day and--

Then you show up in the midst of his panic, snickering behind the partially-opened door.

You’ve been wanting to prank him for all the times he’s pranked you with his magic, though you were a little nervous that he’ll be angry.

But instead he turns around crying and running into your arms.

You just sigh and pat his back, letting him sob into your shirt as you apologize for scaring him that badly.

The incident ends up being a funny story for you to tell Void (though they promise to keep it a secret from their leader).

Tsurugi

Pranking a policeman who was also a killing game survivor with a fake dead body wasn't the best idea...but you honestly didn’t think much of the consequences as you set it all up.

He wasn’t a fan of pranks, though you figured a little spook wouldn’t hurt anyone.

When Tsurugi finds it, he’s frozen in shock and terror--as memories of the incident where his childhood friend died all came flooding back.

You had no idea it would have that kind of impact on him, so when you come out to say “haha gotcha”...you never expect your boyfriend to pull a gun out on you.

But he’s too panic-striken to shoot immediately, unable to tell what’s real and what isn’t. 

So you gotta calm him down and explain how you made the copy, going over every detail if necessary till he stops shaking and realizes you’re okay.

Afterwards he scolds you for scaring him like that, though he'll hug you just to calm down some more.

[h3l10tr0p3]

BNHA OVA: Make it! Do or Die Survival Training!

SPOILERS

So, the Class A students are training for their provisional exams and have to operate in an underground mall rescue mission which caved in due to an electric fire. Midoriya, Bakugou, Todoroki, Uraraka, Asui (I mean, Tsuyu), Kirishima, Kaminari, Yaoyaorozu, Iida and Tokoyami embark down the site when a secondary disaster seperates them.

The OVA most probably takes place between Deku's visit to Hatsume Mei's Studio and the second scene at Gym Gamma where Deku kicks away a boulder dislodged by Katsuki's AP Shot in his recently updated gear (which he wore in the OVA too). In the OVA, Deku's kicks are also shown to be choppy and he doesnt have precise control over it as he kept falling off the ice-raft when he kicked holes through the ceilings of B6 - B3.

This OVA was filled with student interactions and shippy goodness.

We had IidaMomo, IzuOcha, OchaTsuyu, BakuKami, BakuTodo KiriKami and even a Todoroki × Tokoyami (Todoyami? Tokoroki?) even a rare TodoKami moment! (Todoroki calls Kaminari by his first name, Denki!!)

But at the end of the day, the bkdk feels hit it home.

That's it. THAT'S THE OVA.

What blows my mind is that when the Next big three were at level B6, using the geyser to get up to ground level- Studio BONES could have easily made them shoot up to surface without stopping on B3 and injuring Kacchan.

But they did.

This whole OVA basically revolves around injuring Kacchan and the "Be my cane' dialogue and you caNnoT convince me otherwise.

Now to some it may seem out of character/chronologically dubious for Kacchan to relent to easily to Deku in this OVA considering that this took place before Deku v Kacchan 2, and the OVA clearly states that Aizawa was training the children for the oncoming Provisinal Liscence exams. It was only after Kacchan failed the Provisional exams did DvK2 happen.

But there is a very thin vein of appropriation which makes Kacchan's reaction to accepting Deku's help justified with the time line and it all comes down to Kamino.

Hailed as a championing Kiribaku moment, what is often overlooked in this arc is how Izuku gave up his chance to reach out to Katsuki because he was afraid if it were him, Katsuki would not accept his hand. His anguish is easily overshadowed by the success of the rescue stunt.

Look at Deku in the second gif closely.

In the very last frame, his eyes are shadowed, like he is physically holding in the hurt at seeing how easily Kirishima can reach out to Kacchan again and again in a way Deku is not allowed to.

And it is my belief that Katsuki saw that look.

So, Kamino Arc comes and goes. Students are gearing up for Provisional Exams as shown in the OVA and near the end, there comes a time where Katsuki, injured, clearly needs assistance and this is what Deku says.

"I want to save you too"

Kacchan's response to this is clearly unprecendented, and let's face it soft. Him getting a character development like this before DvK2 when he should be steeping in self-loathing for ending All Might and already suspecting that Deku has AM's power, sounnds a bit far-fetched but consider, obliquely, for one moment that Katsuki knows what Deku feels like.

If Katsuki knows Deku wanted to save him badly back at Kamino, that changes things. It probably hints that Katsuki is aware that Deku relinquished the role of taking his hand to Kirishima fearing he wouldn't take Deku's. Katsuki understands that Deku was deeply hurt by this. So when Deku says "I want to save you too" it's like a callback to Kamino and what he means is -

I want to save you like Kirishima is allowed to do.

Katsuki's "I refuse" and consequent (meme-worthy) "Be my cane" dialogues have a lot more weight than comic relief in that context. He is acknowledging Izuku's help not only as a stepping stone, but also accepting it in a non-personal nature- it's like it is an integral part of his growth that he accepts the only way he knows how to-i.e. on his terms.

But the very act of accepting at this stage of their relationship speaks VOLUMES of how Katsuki percieves Izuku and cares for him beyond his brittle and bruised ego. Because despite the misconception Katsuki holds that Izuku is always looking down on him (right uptil the big fight in DvK2 I might add), Katsuki understands and acknowledges Izuku's hurt at not being the one able to save him. Most importantly,

He sees the anxiety Deku suffers from the mere thought of having lost him again.

By the way, the last time Deku looked even remotely concerned about Kacchan's well-being with such open anxiety on his face looked pretty much like this-

(Yeah...it did not go well)

Add that to the fact that Kacchan probably knows that Deku pushed Kirishima to save him when he blamed himself most (despite having nearly broken his whole fucking skeleton in the process) for not being able to rescue him at the Summer Camp itself.

Kacchan clearly understands the lengths Deku is prepared to go, and will go through again to see him safe and secure. Regardless of what kind of hit his ego takes from Kamino (which is compounded by his failure at the Provisional Exams), being saved by Deku in the wake of these realizations clearly surpasses the need to cling to his own pride in the OVA

And that Alone is a testament to the fact how Katsuki's character has been slowly and surely maturing even before DvK2 which makes him such a well-developed character. He is not completely without empathy Pre-DvK2.

He shows it, but sparingly. He convinces himself that he is saving people like Kirishima, Kaminari, Todoroki and Deku in the OVA because he doesnt 'want to owe it to anybody', but he has already started to internalize this attitude of 'Save to Win' this early in the series.

And the biggest proof in the OVA, of how Katsuki has taken the Kamino experience to heart is when Katsuki persists on the mission to save the dummy despite a secondary disaster complicating their exercise. In a way, It is a catharsis. It is Katsuki's re-enactment of Kamino from Deku's perspective, even if it is to save just one lifeless dummy from debris. He is not going to slack off.

(Funny how, here too, the one needing to be saved was ultimately saved by Kirishima)

He has already started to show (and accept) his dedication to saving as well as winning well before AM gives him the "Save to Win. Win to Save" talk, which cements the vector of his future development in the series.

All things considered, is this OVA a valuable addition to the main story of bnha?

Well, depends on the viewer. It has lots of cool highlight on character dynamics, character focus and fleshes out how the next Big Three seamlessly coordinate with each other. (Also shipping material) However in my humble opinion it seems to make the transition of Kacchan's char development easier for the anime-onlys or the anime-and-movie-onlys, so that the Class Exercise arc doesnt seem like a drastic change in his motivations.

(As if we need any more convincing how in-character it is for Bakugou to want to Save as much as he wants to Win)