i was only going to do one but the caps were so pretty

Yuri!!! On Stage Event Report!

So today (4/29/2017) I went to the Yuri on Ice Yuri on Stage event. To clarify though, I was not at the actual Tokyo event, rather a live viewing at a local movie theater. Which of course does alter the experience but it’s the next best thing. At first I thought the theater was only doing the afternoon session, but very last minute I ended up being able to attend both!

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From the Other Side of the Signing Table

“I don’t know what to say to you,” the girl said. “Um, thanks, I guess.”

“Thanks is good,” I replied.

Silence stretched, punctuated only by the scuffle of a Sharpie on a page.

We were in the same boat, the girl and I — both at a book festival, both at the end of a long day full of people, both in a signing line that had been going on for an hour already. There was only one big difference between us: she was on one side of the table, and I was on the other. Sometimes that difference seems to matter more than others.

Before I was published, I read a lot of accounts of what it was like to have your work out there, but I never read anything about what it was like to have yourself out there. I suppose I never really thought about it, to tell you the truth. I thought you wrote a book and hopefully people liked it and if I thought about book tours at all, I figured they involved standing on a stage for a bit before disappearing into a rental car. The truth, however, is that now — ten years and fifteen novels in to my career — most of my hours in front of people are spent in a signing line. Forty minutes on a stage or behind a table for a panel, and then two or three hours meeting a few hundred strangers. I had no idea what it would be like.

This is what it’s like.


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fake dating! zimbits

It was only by a stroke of luck that Jack happened to look at his phone just as he exits the lecture hall. The group chat was blowing up – the group chat was always blowing up these days – but the lack of all-caps or exclamation marks caught his attention right away.

Eric Bittle: Guys, I wouldn’t ask this of y’all if I really didn’t need this, but I have to ask a HUGE favor of one of you.

Shitty Knight: brah are you dying

Justin Oluransi: You can have my kidney, Bits.

Adam Birkholtz: u aren’t gonna save that for me just in CASE, JUSTIN?

Larissa Duan: shit, bitty, r u ok

Eric Bittle: Um, yeah, mostly, I just…..need someone to pretend to be my boyfriend.

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anonymous asked:

heres a prompt if u were interested: neil being oblivious when flirted with constantly while andrew doing nothing, passing by, twirling his racquet is enough to get neil's attention (the rest of the foxes smirk)

“You’re all zoned out,” Matt says in her ear. Dan tips him immediately backwards with a hand to the chest.

“Shush,” she tells him, gritted through the straw she’s worrying between her teeth. She ran out of the watered-down pepsi they’re serving in battered plastic jugs a half hour ago.

“Dan.”

“Shush,” she insists, pressing two fingers to his mouth. She’s watching Neil trying to fill his water cup over at the far side of the banquet hall. He’s hovering in that way he does, like a shark who hasn’t figured out if something’s food yet.

There’s this sweet brown-eyed boy trying to talk to him, possibly the only male cheerleader in the room, certainly the least in the loop about Exy gossip. Dan watches him touch Neil’s arm and Neil jerks backwards into the table, toppling an entire icy water jug so it slops onto the floor and seeps through the tablecloth to the dark wood underneath.

Heads pop up, the boy falls all over himself to pour Neil a new glass, and Neil wanders off, bored.

Dan has noticed that people really want Neil to have a heart of gold. They like the news stories and they want them for themselves. They want the seams showing on his face and the tragedy in his back pocket, and they want to show everyone how accepting they are for finding his scars sexy. 

All they really want is his trim waist and his pretty eyes and his vice-cap badge and the way he shoves cameras away and has more history than any twenty-year-old has any business having.

Dan’s seen it all before. The way people like the character you’re playing so much that they want to take you home and open you up and see how deep it goes.

Neil’s worse at knowing when it’s happening. Dan’s a professional. She can see the way their eyes follow him because at least a dozen are always following her too, especially in places like this banquet. They look at Neil, or Dan, and a little part of them expects a show.

She watches Neil walk towards them with his eyes pouring over the room like liquid and finding every crevice, every exit. She looks at Matt.

“He’s doing that thing where he’s making a spectacle but he thinks he’s being very subtle.”

“That’s his whole shtick. I’m fond of it, now.” Matt grins.

“Do you think he actually noticed he was being hit on?”

Matt hums, watching Neil wind through the tables back to the fox—trojan extravaganza at theirs. “I doubt he knows anything about that boy other than the fact that he was in front of him for a bit.”

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Get Out.

Originally posted by tess453

Peter Parker x Reader

Request: Yes

Summary: Deciding to stay in for a date, Peter and the Reader are faced with annoying and embarrassing comments from the whole team, who are unaware of their relationship.

Word Count: 2,428

Warnings: language, fluff, annoying avengers (??), embarrassed!Peter, embarrassed!Reader, cuteness, LOTR trilogy. (Let me know if I missed any)

A/N: Alright homies, I apologize it has taken me so long to upload something. I’ve been reaally stressed. So hopefully this is okay? For the anon that requested this, I hope you like it. I’d love some feedback, as always. Enjoy reading!


Dark, gray clouds blocked any source of light from shining through the big, thick glass windows surrounding every inch of the building.

The entire tower was filled with a solemn mood that spread into every corner and room.

Most of the team dreaded days like these, since it put a damper on their mood, (especially Steve).

You, however, cherished days like these the most.

It’s where you find your peace and inner self, no matter how depressing that may sound.

It helps you relax and release any stresses that corrupt your thoughts.

But the best reason of all is that you don’t have to leave the house, even if you had a date with Peter tonight.

However, thinking that idea through, you realized something.

The whole team would be here.

With Peter and you.

During your date.

Well, fuck.

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Among the Crowd (Soulmate AU)

Summary: Soulmates’ worlds go from black and white to colors when they are in the same room for the first time. Bucky is a famous actor in the middle of a convention, trying to find his soulmate, you.

Word Count: 2,232

A/N: This is a re-write of a Dean W. fic and I hope you all like it :D 

Originally posted by v-writings


Bucky took a swig of water, tightening the cap on the bottle before setting it to the side. His meet-and-greet was about to start. He could hear the bustling of the crowd right outside the door and took a deep breath. Alongside him was Clint, a co-star.

“You doing okay, buddy?” asked Clint, eyes concerned as he placed a hand on Bucky’s shoulder.

Bucky smiled. “Yeah, I’m alright.”

After a few minutes, Nat Romanoff and Sam Wilson took their seats next to each other and the writer of the show, Bucky’s oldest friend, Steve Rogers, emerged from behind the black curtain that had been put up behind the actors.

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Mock up the courage

Bucky x reader

Notes: fluff, just pure fluff. 

A/N: Bucky is tired and needy and just wants to cuddle. (who. fuckin’. wouldn’t?!)

Originally posted by sebastianobrien

If there was ever something more adorable than Bucky being tired or in any way not feeling well, you’d never seen it. Now, the serum made sure he was never not feeling well, but it didn’t help exhaustion after a week long mission with only 2 hours of sleep a day.

This is why he came stumbling into your floor, somehow overriding every security protocol with his left over spy-skills, calling out your name at two in the morning.

Actually, it was more like a drawn out whine.

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vernon; the boy next door (m)

genre/warnings: fluff/romance/smut, flangst, adorkableness, use of non-penetrative sex toys, (not so) dry humping

word count:  14737

feat: Hansol Vernon Chwe/Original Female, Joshua, Jeonghan + various 

prompts: roommate!Vernon, silliness, cuddles, mac n’cheese = love 

(a/n) my birthday project for my muse. thank you for everything vern:) and kisses for @vernkn​ who gifed my soft sweater vernon aesthetic. enjoy!

She loved Joshua Hong.

When she was so graciously offered to live in her aunt’s vacation penthouse close to her university of choice, the only catch was that she had to pay some of the bills. Completely fair, because it was a kind enough gesture to give away a freshly furnished space to a niece you barely talked to. Luckily, there was enough room for another guest, enough to split the rent.

So in comes the savior of her life, brother from another mother, Joshua Hong, decked out in sandy beige Sperry’s and ironed white jeans. Fresh from South California, he wore their sunshine on his smile, and their attitude in his Cheshire eyes. He was attending the same university as well, and was conveniently looking for a means to stay. Needless to say, she pounced on him at orientation before he could ask anyone else.

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Glitter Ball

I’ve been seeing some discussion in past few days about how unrealistic it is that Bitty doesn’t hang out with other queer kids at Samwell, which is a valid point, and it reminded me I had a fic languishing in my drafts folder that involved an expanded look at the LGBTQIA group on campus, so I figured maybe the time had come to post it. It’s more about Dex than Bitty, because I started it as a response to the “Dex is homophobic” discourse, so this is from a “Dex has never been straight, he just doesn’t think it’s any of your business” perspective.

(It’s the beginning of a longer fic called “I Abhor You/I Adore You” that’s kind of an exercise in filling in all the gaps between the Nurseydex tweets and fleshing out the non-hockey parts of Samwell, but who knows if I’ll ever finish it.)

~4.5k, pre-slash Nurseydex, mostly Dex POV, guest appearances by Bitty, Holster, and a few OCs from the LGBTQIA group. Location of the IT helpdesk across the hall from the resource center entirely stolen from my own tiny liberal arts school, “the little gay college in the middle of Iowa.”

Read it on AO3 (now with the second chapter as well).


First year, first semester

Dex got a job with the helpdesk almost as soon as he got to campus. This wasn’t exactly normal for an unknown, untested, untried, and undeclared first year student, but he had references from his high school job and there was a constant shortage of people who actually knew how to do anything with hardware. Which, of course, was the thing most of the professors actually needed help with. They weren’t actually receiving a lot of emergency Python coding calls; they needed someone who could “make the goddamn printer talk to the computer” without pissing anyone off by being too condescending.

He enjoyed it; compared to having to do the same thing in a retail environment, this was downright relaxing, and he at least had some confidence the people he was helping weren’t complete idiots. He could even leave behind a Post-It of step-by-step instructions of how to fix the problem themselves next time and have it be followed at least 50% of the time! Not to mention his work-study hours as a student athlete were actually capped and enforced so he wouldn’t work himself to death. So relaxing when compared to high school, when he’d had to juggle IT work, lobster fishing, hockey, and grades good enough to get some kind of scholarship.

Since he’d gotten to campus early to start pre-season practice with the hockey team, he’d been able to establish a work routine before adding in classes, which had been helpful. The CS classes at Samwell were certainly more demanding, but that was why he was here, wasn’t it? All in all, he was pretty satisfied with how things were shaping up. (Now if only his d-partner weren’t such an entitled brat…)

Once the other students got back to campus, it became clear the helpdesk office wasn’t the only thing housed in the weird little building at the edge of campus. He was just ending a shift when a girl stuck her head in the door. “Would it be possible to get some quick help from anybody? It’s just across the hall.”

“I can do it,” Dex said. “I was just about to leave anyway.”

“Thank you!” She led the way into what appeared to be an all-purpose meeting room. The door now had a handmade rainbow sign taped to it, proclaiming it the Stonewall Resource Center. “We’re having our first meeting of the year tonight, and of course the one person who remembers how to work the projector is on study abroad this semester.”

“No problem. You hooking it up to a laptop?”

“Yeah.”

Dex walked over to the AV podium at the front of the room and fished out the giant cluster of cables and dongles. “Hopefully one of these will work, but we have adapters in the office for just about anything. Bring it over.” A minute or so later, he had everything working.

“Thank you so much!”

“Sure. I mean, it’s my job anyway.”

“Do I need to file a ticket or something?”

“Eh, whatever.”

“Um, you’re welcome to stay for the meeting if you want…”

“What’s it for? I mean, I can guess, but your sign wasn’t even up when I came in at the beginning of my shift, so, you know.”

“Yeah, basically it’s just a beginning of the year informational meeting for students about LGBTQIA resources on campus and a way to get those of us who are returning students to get started organizing other events. So maybe not super interesting.”

“No, it sounds like good information to have. I’ll stick around.”

She smiled at him. “Great! I’m Sam.”

“Will. Or Dex. I answer to either.”

“Nice to meet you.”

***

“So do you think you’ll come back?” Sam asked after the meeting was over. Dex had stayed to help her turn off the projector and leave a sticky note with the steps written down. (He was thinking about getting a set custom-printed with “Helping You Help Yourself!” across the bottom, though he suspected his boss would find this too snarky.)

“Probably not. I mean, not to regular meetings or anything—you can totally ask me for help anytime! I’m just kind of… past the place where I need this kind of group? And I’ve got hockey practice and CS classes that are kind of the point of my being here, so they take priority, you know?”

“Sure thing.”

“But you know where to find me! Seriously, I’m always happy to help. It looks like a great group. But I know I can’t commit to anything.”

“Cool. I’ll see you around then, yeah? Oh, hey, if you have any time on Friday, you should come to the softball game. We’re gonna slay.”

Dex grinned and offered his fist for a bump of solidarity. “You’ll have to come to a hockey game once the season starts.”

“Definitely.”

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You Meme A Lot To Me

Clint has created a chatroom.

Clint has invited Y/N, Natasha.

Clint: every breath you take, every move you make, every bond you break

Natasha: clint, it’s 2 am.

Clint: every step you take

Clint: I’ll be watching you. happy valentine’s day. my gifts will be delivering later on pls do not trash them

Natasha: is that coulson’s song?

Y/N: this explains why my room is flooded with gifts from the others

Natasha: why must tony give us all cardboard cutouts of him every year?

Pietro has joined the chat.

Pietro: couldn’t u choose a better song old man? this is why u have no valentine. even ur wife said no.

Clint: did i invite u? no.

Pietro: today is a day of love so don’t be salty

Clint: Na.

Clint: hahaha get it

Pietro: no

Clint: ofc you wouldn’t

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Empty Libraries

Pairing: Lin Manuel Miranda x Reader

Request: Could you do something fluffy w Lin, idk why but could you?- anon

Summary: “you’re talking to yourself in a silent library about how much you hate studying and how you’re going to fail, need help? i just so happen to major in that subject and oh shit, you’re really cute”

Warnings: first fic? otherwise just lots of fluff and a little awkward Lin.

A/N: have fun, and I’d really appreciate feedback!

Word Count: 1929

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Full Esquire Interview - CHRIS EVANS IS READY TO FIGHT

“HIS SUCCESS AS CAPTAIN AMERICA HAS MADE CHRIS EVANS ONE OF HOLLYWOOD’S SURE THINGS, WHICH MEANS HE CAN DO WHATEVER HE WANTS WITH HIS FREE TIME. SO WHY JUMP OUT OF AIRPLANES AND GET INTO IT WITH DAVID DUKE?

BY MAXIMILLIAN POTTERMAR 15, 2017


The Canadian commandos are the first to jump. Our plane reaches an altitude of about eight thousand feet; the back door opens. Although it’s a warm winter day below in rural southern California, up here, not so much. In whooshes freezing air and the cold reality that this is actually happening. Out drop the eight commandos, all in black-and-red camouflage, one after the other. For them it’s a training exercise, and Jesus, these crazy bastards are stoked. The last Canuck to exit into the nothingness is a freakishly tall stud with a crew cut and a handlebar mustache; just before he leaps, he flashes a smile our way. Yeah, yeah, we get it: You’re a badass.

Moments later, the plane’s at ten thousand feet, and the next to go are a Middle Eastern couple in their late thirties. These two can’t wait. They are ecstatic. Skydiving is clearly a thing for them. Why? I can’t help thinking. Is it like foreplay? Do they rush off to the car after landing and get it on in the parking lot? They give us the thumbs-up and they’re gone.

Just like that, we’re at 12,500 feet and it’s our turn. Me and Chris Evans, recognized throughout the universe as the star of the Marvel-comic-book-inspired Captain America and Avengers movies. The five films in the series, which began in 2011 with Captain America: The First Avenger, have grossed more than $4 billion.

The two of us, plus four crew members, are the only ones left in the back of the plane. Over the loud drone of the twin propellers, one of the crew members shouts, "Okay, who’s going first?”

Evans and I are seated on benches opposite each other. Neither of us answers. I look at him; he looks at me. I feel like I’ve swallowed a live rat. Evans is over there, all Captain America cool, smiling away.

While we were waiting to board the plane, Evans told me that as he lay in bed the night before, “I started exploring the sensation of ‘What if the chute doesn’t open?’. . .”

Oh, did you now?

“. . .Those last minutes where you know.” As in you know you’re going to fatally splat. “You’re not gonna pass out; you’re gonna be wide awake. So what? Do I close my eyes? Hopefully, it would be quick. Lights out. I fucking hope it would be quick. And then I was like, if you’re gonna do it, let’s just pretend there is no way this is going to go wrong. Just really embrace it and jump out of that plane with gusto.” Evans also shared that he’d looked up the rate of skydiving fatalities. “It’s, like, 0.006 fatalities per one thousand jumps. So I figure our odds are pretty good.”

Again the crew member shouts, “Who’s going first?”

Again I look at Evans; again he looks at me. The rat is running circles in my belly.

I look at Evans; he looks at me.

Another crew member asks, “So whose idea was this, anyway?”


That’s an excellent question.

I ask Evans the same thing when we first meet, the evening before our jump, at his house. He lives atop the Hollywood Hills, in a modern-contemporary ranch in the center of a Japanese-style garden. The place has the vibe of an L.A. meditation retreat—there’s even a little Buddha statue on the front step.

The dude who opens the front door is in jeans, a T-shirt, and Nikes; he has on a black ball cap with the NASA logo, and his beard is substantial enough that for a second it’s hard to be sure this is the same guy who plays the baby-faced superhero. Our handshake in the doorway is interrupted when his dog rockets toward my crotch. Evans is sorry about that.

We do the small-talk thing. Evans is from a suburb of Boston, one of four kids raised by Dad, a dentist, and Mom, who ran a community theater. The point is, he’s a Patriots fan, and with Super Bowl LI, between the Pats and the Falcons, just a few days away at the time, it’s about the only thing on his mind. You bet your Sam Adams–guzzling ass he’s going to the game in Houston. “Oh my God,” he says, doing a little dance. “I can’t believe it’s this weekend.”

Like any self-respecting Pats fan, Evans is super-wicked pissed at NFL commissioner Roger Goodell.

Evans won’t be rolling to SB LI with a posse of Beantown-to-Hollywood A-listers like Mark Wahlberg, Matt Damon, and Ben Affleck. For the record, he’s never met Damon, and his only interaction with Wahlberg was a couple years ago at a Patriots event. Evans has, however, humiliated himself in front of Affleck.

Around 2006, Evans met with Affleck to talk about Gone Baby Gone, which Affleck was directing. Evans was walking down a hallway, looking for the room where they were supposed to meet. Walking by an open office, he heard Affleck, in that thick Boston accent of his, shout, “There he is!” (Evans does a perfect Affleck impersonation.)

By then, Evans had hit the big time for his turn as the Human Torch, Johnny Storm, in 2005’s Fantastic Four, but he still got starstruck. As he tells it, “First thing I say to him: 'Am I going to be okay where I parked?’ He was like, 'Where did you park?’ I said, 'At a meter.’ And he was like, 'Did you put money in the meter?’ And I said, 'Yep.’ And he says, 'Well, I think you’ll be okay.’ I was like, this is off to a great fucking start.” Stating the obvious here: Evans did not get the part.

No, Evans will be heading to the Super Bowl with his brother and three of his closest buddies. Like any self-respecting Pats fan, Evans is super-wicked pissed at NFL commissioner Roger Goodell for imposing that suspension on Tom Brady for Deflategate. Grabbing two beers from a fridge that’s otherwise basically empty, Evans says, “I just want to see Goodell hand the trophy to Brady. Goodell. Piece of shit.”

In Evans’s living room, there’s not a single hint of his Captain Americaness. Earth tones, tables that appear to be made of reclaimed wood. Open. Uncluttered. Glass doors open onto a backyard with a stunning view of the Hills. Evans stretches out on one of two couches. I take the other and ask, “Just whose idea was it to jump?” Since we both know whose idea it wasn’t, we both know that what I’m really asking is Why? Why, dude, do you want to jump (with me) from a goddamn airplane? “Yeah,” he says, popping open his beer, “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Settling in on the couch, he groans. Evans explains that he’s hurting all over because he just started his workout routine the day before to get in shape for the next two Captain America films. The movies will be shot back to back beginning in April. After that, no more red- white-and-blue costume for the thirty-five-year-old. He will have fulfilled his contract.

“Yeah,” he says, popping open his beer, “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Back in 2010, Marvel presented Evans with a nine-picture deal. He insisted he’d sign on for no more than six. Some family members thought he was nuts to dial back such a secure and lucrative gig. Evans saw it differently.

It takes five months to shoot a Marvel movie, and when you tack on the promotional obligations for each one, well, shit, man. Evans knew that for as long as he was bound to Captain America, he would have little time to take on other projects. He wanted to direct, he wanted to play other characters—roles that were more human—like the lead in Gifted, which will hit theaters this month. The script had brought him to tears. Evans managed to squeeze the movie in between Captain America and Avengers films.

FOX Searchlight

In Gifted, Evans stars as Frank Adler. You don’t get much more human than Adler, a grease-under-his-nails boat-engine mechanic living the bachelor life in Florida. After a series of tragic circumstances, Adler becomes a surrogate father to his niece, Mary, a first-grader with the IQ of Einstein. He recognizes that Mary is a little genius, and he does his best to prevent anyone else from noticing. Given the aforementioned circumstances, Adler has witnessed what can happen when a kid with a brilliant mind is pushed too hard too quickly. Then along comes Mary’s teacher. She discovers the child’s gift, and a Kramer vs. Kramer–esque drama ensues.

During a moment in the film when things aren’t going Adler’s way, he sarcastically refers to himself as a “fucking hero.” Evans says the line didn’t lead him to make comparisons between superhero Steve Rogers (aka Captain America) and Everyman hero Frank Adler. But now that you mention it . . . 

“With Steve Rogers,” Evans says, “even though you’re on a giant movie with a huge budget and strange costumes, you’re still on a hunt for the truth of the character.” That said, “with Adler, it’s nice to play someone relatable. I think Julianne Moore said, 'The audience doesn’t come to see you; they come to see themselves.’ Adler is someone you can hold up as a mirror for someone in the audience. They’ll be able to far more easily identify with Frank Adler than Steve Rogers.”

Dodger. That’s the name of Evans’s dog, the one who headbutted my nuts and has since done a marvelous job of making amends by nuzzling against me on the couch. Evans got him while he was filming Gifted; one of the last scenes was shot in an animal shelter in Georgia. Evans had wanted a dog ever since his last pooch died in 2012. Then he found himself walking the aisles of this pound, and there was this mixed-breed boxer, wagging his tail and looking like he belonged with Evans.

Dodger is not exactly a name you’d think a die-hard Boston sports fan would pick. His boys from back home have given him a ton of shit over it. But he has not abandoned his Red Sox for the L.A. team. As a kid, he loved the Disney animated movie Oliver & Company, and his favorite character was Dodger. Anticipating the grief he was going to get from his pals, Evans considered other names. “You could name your dog Doorknob,” he says, “and in a month he’s fucking Doorknob.” Evans’s mom convinced him to go with his gut.

Right around when Evans was wrapping Gifted and heading back to L.A. with Dodger, the 2016 presidential campaign was still in that phase when no one, including the actor—a Hillary Clinton supporter—thought Trump had a shot. He still can’t believe Trump won.

“I feel rage,” he says. “I feel fury. It’s unbelievable. People were just so desperate to hear someone say that someone is to blame. They were just so happy to hear that someone was angry. Hear someone say that Washington sucks. They just want something new without actually understanding. I mean, guys like Steve Bannon—Steve Bannon!—this man has no place in politics.”

Evans has made, and continues to make, his political views known on Twitter. He tweeted that Trump ought to “stop energizing lies,” and he recently ended up in a heated Twitter debate with former KKK leader David Duke over Trump’s pick of Jeff Sessions for attorney general. Duke baselessly accused Evans of being anti-Semitic; Evans encouraged Duke to try love: “It’s stronger than hate. It unites us. I promise it’s in you under the anger and fear.” Making political statements and engaging in such public exchanges is a rather risky thing for the star of Captain America to do. Yes, advisors have said as much to him. “Look, I’m in a business where you’ve got to sell tickets,” he says. “But, my God, I would not be able to look at myself in the mirror if I felt strongly about something and didn’t speak up. I think it’s about how you speak up. We’re allowed to disagree. If I state my case and people don’t want to go see my movies as a result, I’m okay with that.”

Trump. Bannon. Politics. Now Evans is animated. He gets off the couch, walks out onto his porch, and lights a cigarette. “Some people say, 'Don’t you see what’s happening? It’s time to yell,' ” Evans says. “Yeah, I see it, and it’s time for calm. Because not everyone who voted for Trump is going to be some horrible bigot. There are a lot of people in that middle; those are the people you can’t lose your credibility with. If you’re trying to change minds, by spewing too much rhetoric you can easily become white noise.”


Evans has a pretty remarkable “How I got to Hollywood” story.

During his junior year of high school, he knew he wanted to act. He was doing it a lot. In school. At his mom’s theater. He loved it. “When you’re doing a play at thirteen years old and have opening night? None of my friends had opening nights. 'I can’t have a sleepover, guys; I have an opening night tonight.' ”

That same year, he did a two-man play. For all of the twenty-plus plays Evans had done up to that point, preparation meant going home, memorizing lines, and doing a few run-throughs with the cast. However, for this play, Fallen Star, he and his costar would rehearse by running dialogue with each other. Hour upon hour, night after night.

Fallen Star is about two friends, one of whom has just died. As the play opens, one of the characters comes home after the funeral to find his dead friend’s ghost. Evans was the ghost. Waiting backstage on opening night, he knew he didn’t have every line memorized, but he had the essence and emotion of the play down. Onstage, he remembers, “I was saying the lines not because they were memorized but because the play was in me. I was believing what I was saying.”

He was hooked. He wanted to do more of this kind of acting—real acting. He wanted to do films, in which the camera was right on him and he could just be the character, rather than theater, in which an actor must perform to the back of the room.

A family friend who was a television actor advised Evans that if he wanted to go to Hollywood, he needed an agent. Toward the end of his junior year, he had a ballsy request for his parents: If he found an internship with a casting agent in New York City, would they allow him to live there and cover the rent? They agreed. Evans landed a gig with Bonnie Finnegan, who was then working on the television show Spin City.

“I just fucked off. I lost my virginity that year. 1999 was one of the best years of my life.” Until it wasn’t.

Evans chose to intern with a casting agent because he figured he had more of a chance to interact with other agents trying to get auditions for their clients.

The kid was sixteen years old.

Finnegan put Evans on the phone; his responsibilities included setting up appointments for auditions. By the end of the summer, he picked the three agents he had the best rapport with and asked each of them to give him a five-minute audition. All three said yes. After seeing his audition, all three were interested.

Evans went with the one Finnegan recommended, Bret Adams, who told Evans to return to New York for auditions in January, television pilot season. Back home, Evans doubled up on a few classes the first semester of his senior year, graduated early, and went back to New York in January. He got the same shithole apartment in Brooklyn and the same internship with Finnegan. He landed a part on the pilot Opposite Sex. Even better, the show got picked up and would start shooting in L.A. that fall.

“I know I’m going to L.A. in August,” Evans says, recalling that period. “So I go home and that spring I would wake up around noon, saunter into high school just to see my buddies, and we’d go get high in the parking lot. I just fucked off. I lost my virginity that year. 1999 was one of the best years of my life.” Until it wasn’t.

He wasn’t in L.A. for even a month when he got a call from home. His parents were divorcing. Evans never saw it coming.

Family and love and the struggles therein are part of what attracted Evans to Gifted.

“In my own life, I have a deep connection with my family and the value of those bonds,” he says. “I’ve always loved stories about people who put their families before themselves. It’s such a noble endeavor. You can’t choose your family, as opposed to friends. Especially in L.A. You really get to see how friendships are put to the test; it stirs everyone’s egos. But if something goes south with a friend, you have the option to say we’re not friends anymore. Your family—that’s your family. Trying to make that system work and trying to make it not just functional but actually enjoyable is a really challenging endeavor, and that’s certainly how it is with my family.”


the plane, a decision is made.

“I want to see you jump first,” Evans shouts my way.

Of course he does.

Like any respectable and legal skydiving center, Skydive Perris, which is providing us with this “experience,” doesn’t just strap a chute on your back. First, you go to a room for a period of instruction. Then you go to another room, where you sign away your rights.

You may be wondering how the star of a billion-dollar franchise with two pictures to shoot gets clearance to jump from an airplane—never mind the low rate of fatalities, as Evans has presented it. So am I.

“Well, they give you all these crazy insurance policies, but even if I die, what are they going to do? Sue my family? They’d probably cast some new guy at a cheaper price and save some money.”

Thinking the answer is almost certainly going to be no, I ask Evans if he’s ever gone skydiving before. Turns out he has, with an ex-girlfriend. Turns out that ex-girlfriend is now married to Justin Timberlake. Evans and Jessica Biel dated off and on from 2001 to 2006. They took the leap together when Biel hatched the idea for one Valentine’s Day. According to media accounts, Evans was recently dating his Gifted costar Jenny Slate, who plays the teacher. “Yeah,” he says, “but I’m steering clear of those questions.” You can almost feel his heart pinch.

“There’s a certain shared life experience that is tough for someone else who’s not in this industry to kind of wrap their head around.”

We end up broadly discussing the unique challenges an international star like Evans faces when it comes to dating, specifically the trust factor. Evans supposes that’s why so many actors date other actors: “There’s a certain shared life experience that is tough for someone else who’s not in this industry to kind of wrap their head around,” he says. “Letting someone go to work with someone for three months and they won’t see them. It really, it certainly puts the relationship to the test.”

In Gifted, there’s a moment when Slate’s character asks Adler what his greatest fear is. Frank Adler’s greatest fear is that he’ll ruin his niece’s life. Evans’s greatest fear is having regrets.

“Like always kind of wanting to be there as opposed to here. I think I’m worried all of a sudden I’ll get old and have regrets, realize that I’ve not cultivated enough of an appreciation for the now and surrendering to the present moment.”

Evans’s musings have something to do with the fact that he has been reading The Surrender Experiment. “It’s about the basic notion that we are only in a good mood when things are going our way,” he says. “The truth is, life is going to unfold as it’s going to unfold regardless of your input. If you are an active participant in that awareness, life kind of washes over you, good or bad. You kind of become Teflon a little bit to the struggles that we self-inflict.”

He continues: “Our conscious minds are very spread out. We worry about the past. We worry about the future. We label. And all of that stuff just makes us very separate. What I’m trying to do is just quiet it down. Put that brain down from time to time and hope those periods of quiet and stillness get longer. When you do that, what rises from the mist is a kind of surrendering. You’re more connected as opposed to being separate. A lot of the questions about destiny or fate or purpose or any of that stuff—it’s not like you get answers. You just realize you didn’t need the questions.”

This here—this stuff about surrendering, letting life unfold, taking the leap—this is why he wanted to go skydiving. It’s why that sixteen-year-old took the leap and did the summer in New York; it’s why he took the leap and turned down the nine-picture deal; it’s why he got Dodger. Surrender. Take the leap.

And so I go first.

Oh, one important detail: Novice jumpers like Evans and me, we don’t jump solo. Thank God. Each of us is doing a tandem jump. Each of us is strapped with our back to a professional jumper’s front. I’m strapped to a forty-four-year-old dude named Paul. Considering what’s about to happen, I figure I should know a little something about Paul. He tells me he used to own a bar in Chicago. Evans is strapped to a young woman named Sam, who looks to be twenty-something. She’s got a purplish-pink streak in her black hair and says things like “badass.” In fact, Sam introduced herself  by saying, “I’m Sam, but you can call me Badass.”

At the plane’s open door, my mind goes to my wife and two teenage sons, to those I love, and to the texts I just sent in case my chute fails. Then Paul and I—well, really mostly Paul—rock gently back and forth to build momentum to push away from the plane, to push away from all that seems sane.

Three.

Two.

One.

Holy fuck.

HOLY FUCK. This is what I scream as we free-fall from 12,500 feet, at more than a hundred miles an hour, toward the earth. Which I cannot take my eyes off of. I think about nothing. Not living. Not dying. Nothing. I simply feel . . . I have let go.

Suddenly, it all stops. I’m jerked up. Paul has pulled the chute, and it does indeed open. This is fantastic, because it means we have a much better chance of not dying. But it’s also kind of a bummer. I had let go. Of everything. I had chosen to play those odds Evans had talked about. I had embraced jumping and letting life unfold.

Now I had been jerked back. I would land. Back on the earth I had been so high above and from which I had been so far removed. Back in all of it.

Once I’m on the ground, safe and in one piece, a staffer runs over and asks how I feel. I say, “I feel like Captain America.”

The staffer runs over and asks Evans the same question. He says he feels great. Then he’s asked another question: What was your favorite part?

“Jumping out,” he says. “Jumping out is always a real thrill.”


This article appears in the April '17 issue of Esquire.

“Carnations” (Part 3)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (College AU)

Summary: A carnation fundraiser, an iota of possibility, and a longtime secret crush on your hot best friend - what could go wrong?

many thanks to the phenomenal @buckyywiththegoodhair for beta-reading! you witty, pliable, sun goddess with beautiful curls - i adore you!

a/n: i loved reading all of your theories and comments! that said, i’m waaaaay too predictable ;) -j. x

“Carnations” (Masterlist)

Maybe your head is unable to function after the many hours of crying into your pillow or maybe your heart is burnt out from the tsunami of emotions. For some reason, all words and social etiquette have escaped you, and you’re left dumbly staring at the blonde standing in front of you.

“Hey, (Y/N). Uh, we’ve never met in person, but my name is Sharon Carter.”

Ah – this is blonde girl who asked if you were okay right before you sprinted out of the Student Gov office. Your manners snap back into place and you hold out a hand. “Sorry I’m a little out of right now. You’re on Student Gov, right?”

“Yes. I’m the VP of External Affairs. I work closely with Steve.”

Steve’s betrayal is still very raw, your lungs feel like they’re going to collapse at the sound of his name. “Look, I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m not really in the mood to socialize,” you say, your voice low and strangled.

“Wait!” Sharon draws in a breath before letting it rush out. “Dot was lying about the carnations. Steve wasn’t playing a cruel joke, because he never sent the flowers to you.”

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Serendipity.

Pairing: Jungkook X Reader

Genre: Fluff (with slightly smutty undertones at the end) and a fail attempt at humor; Soulmate!AU where anything your soulmate does to their body reflects on your own

Soulmate Series: Yoongi | Hoseok | Jin | Jimin | Namjoon | Taehyung

Word Count: 2.6K

Originally posted by jungk0oksthighs

You’d never had a problem with the whole ‘soulmate’ deal, unlike some of your more passionate colleagues. It’d never sparked up much of a reaction in you, because honestly, who had the time to actually care? Besides, it did turn out to be rather amusing, most of the time.

Like when you were in the middle of discussing an important project with your professor, for example, and you felt something ticklish on the inside of your arm. You’d always been susceptible to even the slightest brush of the fingers, so you bit your lip hard to stop yourself from laughing out loud.

When you finally got to leave, you made a pit stop at the bathroom, to get a napkin or something to wipe your cut lip—go figure, you’d managed to bite it that hard—and you looked down at your wrist: the source of your problems. Looking at the squiggles on it, you felt like you were supposed to get angry, but honestly, the basic math problems drawn crudely with black ink made you laugh out loud. Sure, you got some strange looks from, like, one person for doing that, but you could tell your soulmate had to be hilarious.

You looked again, unable to resist smiling when you saw—and felt—more black ink being scribbled furiously onto your delicate skin. Your soulmate must have been having a math test or something soon; why else would they have been writing all that on their hand? Though, really, what an amateur move.

You took great delight in re-telling the story to your friends later, but it seemed like they’d reached the point where they were just tired of hearing you talk about your soulmate all the time. But really, they seemed great—and you really, really wanted to meet them. It’s just…you had no idea how.

Who knew a single conversation could change it all?

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Everything’s Better with a Beard

Steve x Reader
Smut
WC: 1889
Warnings: Swear words, masturbation, oral sex
Summary: Reader has a crush on Cap and wonders what he would look (and feel!) like with a beard…
AN: I feel like I haven’t been giving Steve enough love lately plus with all the commotion about Cap with a beard, I had to give this a go. Though I will admit, everything is better with a beard…Also, I’m kinda wordy…sorry


It was one of those nights where just the girls were hanging out. It was a rare opportunity and a nice feeling, You were all at various levels of intoxication sitting together around the living room area and conversation flowed as easily as the wine.

“You know, we probably should have made more snacks,” mused Pepper, always looking out for everyone.

Maria and Natasha snorted, “Please,” replied Natasha, “Eating just means less room for wine!” She raised her glass in a toast, “To us!”

Everyone cheered.

“Ugh, what’s with this lumberjack look?” commented Maria, while flipping through the pages of a magazine. “Whatever happened to clean shaven, respectable looking men?”

“Now now,” Pepper scolded her, “Goatees are pretty sexy,” she smirked.

“That’s because a goatee is groomed, but a beard? Yuck,” Maria retorted.

“I don’t know,” you chimed in. “I’m of the personal philosophy that a beard makes everything better.”

Natasha nodded in agreement. “I think some men just suit beards… Though I suppose the true test is if they look good with a beard and without one.”

Maria disagreed, “But beard burn? Eww. I’m a grown-ass lady. I don’t need evidence of my necking.”

You laughed at her, “First of all, how old are you? Who says necking? Secondly, I dunno… there’s something about the roughness of it… All scratchy and manly.” You could feel yourself blushing, as if you had said too much.

Just then, the guys entered the room. You were fairly certain that they hadn’t heard any of the previous conversation. You took a long swallow of your drink, hoping it would cool you off.

The topic of conversation turned to the upcoming mission. You were one of the two remaining behind as your particular skills weren’t needed so you didn’t really pay attention to the conversation. Instead, you casually observed your friends, one in particular, until Natasha elbowed you.

“You’re staring,” she muttered to you.

You felt yourself turn red again. Apparently you weren’t as casual as you thought you were.

Leaning into you, she whispered, “I wonder what Cap would look like with a beard.”

You had often wondered the same thing.

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RIP To My Youth

and you could call this the funeral

My first Jughead imagine, this is part one, if you guys enjoy it I’ll keep it going. 

Pairing: Jughead x Reader 

Description: Jug and the reader have been best friends since they were kids, but lately, things have changed, Riverdale has changed, Jug has changed and Y/N thinks maybe it’s time she changed too. 

Warnings: ANGST ANGST SO MUCH ANGST YO (maybe a couple o swears)

Word count: 2088

Part 2https://thatsadbreakfastclub.tumblr.com/post/158505761114/rip-to-my-youth-pt-2



It was getting to the point where I was having internal battles with myself every night. ‘Y/N he’s working on the novel and the newspaper, of course, it’s going to be harder for him to spend time with you’ versus ‘he’s moved on, he’s closer with Betty now, he and Archie are closer too, you’ve lost him, you’re irrelevant’. These were the thoughts that had been consuming my brain for the past couple of weeks. Jug was my best friend, right? Maybe I should text him? Maybe not. I started playing with my pale grey cap, my nervous tick of sorts. Jug could always tell when I was nervous because I would fiddle with the cap “Y/N” he’d say “spill it, you can’t hide anything from me, I can read you like an open book”. Thinking about this little memory was bittersweet. How can someone who’s practically by your side every day suddenly just have no real interest in talking to you? Ever since the murder of Jason Blossom, it really feels like everything in Riverdale has changed.

I glanced at my clock perched on my bedside table, 7:45 pm sigh. Maybe doing some homework will take my mind off all this bullshit, who’s idea was it to put me in advanced algebra anyway? Oh, that’s right my father, who I really wish was here right now and not away on some business trip. Tonight would have to be a lonely one. That’s when I remembered I had Jug’s math textbook, there it was sitting on my desk. I flipped it open and sure enough on the bottom left-hand corner was a small ‘property of Jughead Jones’. Perfect I could use this as an excuse to text him. 

Hey Jug, I forgot I had your math textbook? Want me to come drop it over? The two-hour wait to get a reply just built up more and more anger inside of me Hey Y/N, I’m working on an article with Betty right now, could you drop it off to me in the newsroom in free period tomorrow? This was it, this was fucking it, oh I would take his textbook to him tomorrow and I would also confront him about this whole thing, that’s what I’d do straight up ask him why I was suddenly dead weight, I’ve had his guys back for so many years and now I’m just nothing, I won’t have it. Will do I sent back, cool calm and collected and then I was going to give him a piece of my mind tomorrow.

Getting ready for school was never a difficult task for me, I pretty much did the same thing everyday. My Y/H/C was tied into a ponytail with the front strands falling onto my face framing it. I put on my classic ripped boyfriend jeans and a black t-shirt, accompanied by my army jacket. To finish off my classic look I added my signature grey cap and put on my favourite dark grey lipstick. I wasn’t the girliest of girls, that was for sure, but everyone seemed to identify me by my style and in this I found comfort. After giving myself the once over in the mirror I grabbed Jug’s textbook from my desk, shoving it into my bag and I set off for school.

The day dragged on and on, I had a tonne of classes with Kevin and Ronnie today so it was nice to hang out with them for a change. This was of course until Kevin pulled the “I haven’t seen you and Jughead together in a while, what happened you two are usually joined at the hip?” line “You guys are my otp, I hope there’s no trouble in paradise” Veronica added. “Ronnie we’re not dating, why does everyone always think that and honestly, I don’t know, I guess he’s been too busy with this whole novel and newspaper thing to remember me as well” I replied giving my best interpretation of a fake smile. Veronica and Kevin gave me sympathetic looks. 

As the bell rang, signaling our release I was packing my things together when Veronica grabbed my arm. “Y/N you need to tell Jug how you feel, I don’t know if you’ve even admitted it to yourself yet but it’s pretty obvious you’re in love with him, I can see how much not seeing him is hurting you and I think it’s best if you face this head on” I was so taken aback by this, I mean for years I’ve always had people ask if Jug and I were dating but no one had been this blatant with me. Was she right?, No he’s my best friend, I couldn’t be in love with him no way. I let out an awkward laugh “I don’t love Jughead, we’re just friends” It came out so defensive that Veronica raised both her eyebrows and folded her arms “the fact that you’re being so defensive about this just further proves my point” She said in a sing-song voice. “I gotta go Ronnie” I replied standing up from my seat and walking out the classroom “I only say this cause’ I care” she yelled after me.  

Making my way towards the newsroom, I’d never felt so nervous in my life, like get a grip girlie it was just your friend, surely this whole not speaking to me thing was just, not even a big deal and I was hyping it all up. I was still going to have a go at him though because he was angry when Archie ditched him and now he’s okay with doing it to me? Not on my watch.

I had the math book in my hand as I was walking up to the door of the newsroom, I had my best ‘pissed off face’ going on I was ready.

I had my hand almost on the doorknob when I took a quick glance through the doors glass window. That was when my stomach fell, my jaw dropped and my heart involuntarily shattered. It was just a glimpse that’s all I could allow myself to watch, but inside that dusty old newsroom was one Jughead Jones kissing Elizabeth Cooper. The feelings hit me like a truck, and then everything went numb.

I didn’t know what to do so without giving any sign I was there I dropped the math book and ran, I ran out of the school I ran past pops and all the way home. By this time the tears were free falling, I couldn’t stop it and I didn’t care. Once I was in the safety of being inside my house with the door locked I gave in to my emotions and just slid down to the floor.

Wow, I felt so stupid and so naive, why didn’t I see this coming, it all made perfect sense now. I guess this was me also coming to terms with the fact that as usual Ronnie was right, I was painfully in love with Jug and now I was too late to ever do anything about it.

The more I sat there and thought about it the more I came to realise that this was my fault. I held Jug up to this crazy high standard and just assumed it would always be him and me at the end of the day. I had sacrificed so much to hang out with him, to keep my “image”, I avoided making too many other friends, I avoided parties, extracurricular activities you name it I wasn’t a part of it. Now it was all going to change, it had to change. Maybe this was the wake-up call I needed. I had to work on myself, be better, be stronger. Most of all this needed to happen because this meant I could quite literally not be around Jughead anymore, I think seeing or talking to him would make me cry, something the new me will NOT be doing.

I picked myself up off the floor and headed to the bathroom to wash my face. “Get a grip Y/N, ” I told myself staring into the mirror. It’s like as soon as I come to terms with the feelings I think I may have had for years, I have to immediately try to get rid of them. I think this was a coping mechanism for me, and I think the reason I’ve never let myself admit that I had feelings for him before was because I fear rejection so much so very much, and I had to do what I knew would keep him around and that was to continue to be his friend. Well, little girl it’s time to grow up.

And what’s the best way to look more mature and confident, change your style. From what I’ve witnessed from the media, what you wear can have a profound impact on how people view you. This is what I had to do first, get rid of the “old me” look. This meant bye grey cap, bye dark lipstick ( I mean what was I even trying to do with that? Look like a corpse?) (oh wow corpse jokes really funny, maybe a bit too real in light of recent circumstances.) And also a very big goodbye to my jeans and army jacket, that would have to go too.

Looking through my closet it was apparent I didn’t have much to work with, I would definitely have to go shopping this weekend, I’ll bring Ronnie and Kevin along, they know fashion and are probably more than willing to help me out. AH HUH eureka! The dress I’ve been looking for! About two months ago I bought this really nice burgundy skater dress that I was planning to wear on a summer trip away, but when that got cancelled I never really had an excuse to wear it, until now. It showed a lot of leg, which I was surprisingly pretty comfortable with. The thought of people seeing me in this tomorrow made me feel a mixture of excitement and nausea.

The next thing that would change was the hair; no more would it be hidden by a cap and just randomly pulled back behind my face. I would wear it down and give it a curl. I think that would give me a nice elegant edge. God, I really don’t think anyone’s even going to recognise me tomorrow, kinda funny really. The next thing I had to do was go on to the school website and look for an extracurricular I would be willing to do. Hopefully, this would be a good way to make new friends and keep me busy.

I went and grabbed my laptop from my desk, as I did this I heard my phone vibrate, which meant I had a message. The name that made the screen light up made my heart skip a few beats, it was from Jug Hey, I just found my math book outside the newsroom? Why did you leave it there and not come inside? SIGH, reading that was like a knife to my chest, I immediately deleted the message, this may be immature but I needed time, I can’t bring myself to talk to him and if he can do it to me I can sure as hell do it to him. 

Shaking those thoughts away I was brought back to the task at hand. Logging onto the schools web page I found the list of extracurricular activities going on at Riverdale high. Chess club? Pass. Girl’s soccer? Hard pass.  Mathletes? No way in hell. Come on there has to be something here. After fifteen minutes of looking to no avail I scrolled past the extracurricular activities. Eventually I saw an ad posted by the she-devil herself Cheryl Blossom, apparently, one of the river vixens had broken her ankle and a new vixen was needed immediately, auditions were tomorrow after school. Hmm, could I do this? Maybe I could? The old me would never dream of being a cheerleader but the new me, maybe she could. You know what, fuck it. It was decided, I caught myself slightly smiling as I clicked ‘attend’ on the event. It felt like a breath of fresh air, tomorrow I would walk into school confident and new. I was going to cure my own broken heart. I just hoped a run in with Jughead wouldn’t make it all come crashing down.

5

Jack Wilder x Reader

Requested by Anon

Warnings: some smut, mentions of sex


You knew Jack was up to something. Despite his attempts to hide it you knew exactly what he was up to. Of course, it helped when you were taken in for questioning about the Four Horsemen but you’d neglected to tell Jack about that.

So, when he mysteriously vanished for a while you decided to travel to Las Vegas and attend their show, finding it easy to get the money with a few simple tricks and cons. As soon as you set foot on solid ground and walked through the airport you’d managed to con your way into a few free nights at the best hotel Las Vegas had to offer, a town car and a chauffeur.

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Do Kyungsoo//Denouement

Originally posted by smileysoo

Summary: The world is black and white to everyone. At least, until they reach 18, and realise who their soulmate is or meet them for the first time - and then colour will burst into their life, one shade at a time. You’ve been desperate to graduate high school and move away, but you can’t run from fate. - ft. big brother Yixing 
Scenario: Soulmate!au 
Word Count: 5,977

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Take Me || Stiles S.

Word Count: 4,133ish

Warning: Rough smut,😉

Prompt: Hi! I was wondering if you could do a Stiles smut where the reader and Stiles are like, lab partners or something, and Stiles has been mumbling really dirty stuff to you for weeks, and you finally tell him to do something, and then it’s really hard and rough. Thanks so much!! 

You’re my first request and my love for you extends wayyyy past the galaxy. You are the best beautiful! I hope this is what you wanted and I didn’t know if you wanted to be tagged. If not, let me know:) @pick-the-petalst

A/N: Also, just wanted to thank everyone for 130 followers! It might not be much to anyone else, but I didn’t think I’d even have 1 so I am more than grateful! You all are magnificent beauties and I hope you all have an extraordinary day. Much love 💕

(Gifs are not mine)


Monday

“Those jeans are looking extra tight today.” His lips grazed the outer shell of your ear as his hand slid onto your thigh. “Definitely makes me wonder what they would look like on the floor of my bedroom.”

Your breath caught in your throat. Yes, this had been going on for weeks now but it always affected you. Stiles had become your lab partner at the beginning of the semester and at first, you thought that it might actually go well. He seemed like a smart kid and even though Harris liked to torment him about failing his class, Stiles didn’t seem to be having any trouble.

All that went downhill about two days into your partnership. 

You had just arrived into class wearing a new skirt that you had recently bought over the weekend. It was black and faux leather. You knew that it was a little short, but it wasn’t too bad that you thought people would notice.

Stiles did.

The second you sat down in your seat he was leaning over to you. “Damn, I didn’t know you could get any hotter babe.”

“Excuse me?” You questioned raising your eyebrow at him.

“Oh, Princess, we can excuse ourselves right now and I can show you just how a man treats a lady.” He whispered against the side of your cheek.

You had always thought that Stiles was hot. Hell, he was super sexy, especially when he would wear his baseball cap flipped backward and his unlimited amount of flannels. But, right now, you didn’t know whether to be turned on, flattered, or appalled.

You turned your face to glare at him, but he was already giving you the once-over with his eyes.

You didn’t want it to be, but unfortunately, your teenage hormones got the best of you and heat rose to your cheeks.

“We have never spoken one word to each other and that’s what you start with?” You questioned hoping that he wouldn’t notice the redness that was dawning on your face.

But he did. Of course, he did.

Slowly, a grin curled onto the side of his thin pink lips. His eyes raked the length of your body at an agonizingly sluggish pace causing you to squirm in your seat. He took notice in that too because as he met your eyes a smirk was slipped on his mouth.

“All those dirty little thoughts that are going through that pretty little head of yours could be a reality. Just say the word and I’ll take you on this desk right now.” His eyes shined with pure honesty in his words and suddenly the room was the temperature of the sun. Heat crawled down your neck, past your heavy breasts, through the tingling sensation in your belly, and made its home in your core. The wetness already seemed to be dampening your panties.

As if he would smell your arousal, he leaned in closer. “Say the word Babygirl.”

You couldn’t speak. You couldn’t even move afraid that a moan would slip from your lips. How did this man have so much power of you with just words?

“Stilinski! Attention to the front! Please don’t bother miss L/N.” Harris yelled breaking Stiles’s intense stare he had on you. 

As his eyes left you, you took in a deep breath.

“Yes sir, wouldn’t dream of bothering her.” 

But that is exactly what he had in mind. He wanted her all bothered. Hot and bothered and wriggling underneath him while moaning his name.

You tried not to look at him, but curiosity got the best of you and you peeked at him. He was already staring at you, but this gave him the chance to rile you up some more.

He sent you a wink right as the bell rang.

Now, weeks later it has been a constant one-sided flirtation with a huge dose of lust sprinkled in every sentence that flowed from his amazingly beautiful mouth.

Not that you thought his mouth was beautiful, or that it could do beautifully dirty things as it scrapped the inside of your thighs. No, you had never thought of that.

Let’s all be honest with each other, it wasn’t a normal Monday if that thought didn’t go through your head at least twice.

Today, was no different. 

“Those jeans are looking extra tight today.” His lips grazed the outer shell of your ear as his hand slid onto your thigh. “Definitely makes me wonder what they would look like on the floor of my bedroom.”

“It definitely makes me wonder when you’re going to shut your mouth.” You muttered knowing that he could hear you as you continued to finish your chemistry worksheet.

“Sweetheart, is that the only thing you want my mouth to do?” It was as if he had read your mind and your pencil halted in writing the sentence it was currently on.

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