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huneekrispee · 3 years

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Where is my lover?

Pairing: c!Dreamwastaken x gn!Reader

Summary: Living outside the Dream SMP, far from the war and chaos, Dream was able to find comfort in you. One day, he leaves, promising to come back to you. It's been months, now you're left wondering... where is my lover?

Warnings: cursing, use of dream's real name, spoilers for the Dream SMP Finale, tiny bit of fluff at the start, angst

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: I've been watching Attack on Titan recently, and the song 'Call Your Name' has me in the feels :( Sorry for being away for so long :( School has been an ass to me, I hope you enjoy it!! -Hunee <3

Also! Please don't mind the pronouns in the song! This is a gender-neutral fic, I merely just wrote the song lyrics as they are :)

She lost her brother a month ago

His picture on the wall

And it reminds me

When she brings me coffee... her smile

I wish I could be with her until my last day

In the forest, a cottage lays peacefully in a secluded meadow near a running stream. The tall trees lay their shadows onto the grassy floor, leaving marks from the sun. Water solemnly runs along, moving to its next destination through the stream. Grass rustles and a soft sigh is heard.

Stretching his arms above his head, a man clad in green slowly sits up, emerald eyes darting around. He yawns. "(Y/N)!" He's now standing up, searching for his lover. Dream's hand reaches down to grab his mask left abandoned on the grass, quickly putting it on.

Preparing his sword, his hand on the hilt, Dream slowly steps toward the cottage. He rests a hand on the door, waiting for something, anything.

A scream is heard.

He now slams the door open, netherite blade on full display, ready to attack. Looking around, he notices no one but (Y/N) in the cozy home, with a kettle on the ground next to them. Lowering his guard, sighing with relief, he sheathes his sword once more, walking over to his distraught partner.

"Are you alright?" Removing his mask, he takes their hands in his. Dream looks at them. (Y/N) looks down, taking their hurt hand out of his. Sighing, Dream quickly leads them over to the sink, running the tap. "What happened?" The coldness of the water helped soothe the burn. "I just, accidentally burnt myself with the kettle. It's okay, I'll live, Clay."

The man remained silent. The only sound heard in the cottage was the running tap water. After treating the burn on their hand, Dream leads (Y/N) to the chair on the side of the room. "You. Sit. I'll finish doing whatever you were doing. You just sit there and take it easy, you just burnt your hand." Bending down to their height, Dream stands face to face with (Y/N). He narrows his eyes slightly. He was always like this. Whenever (Y/N) got hurt in any sort of way, Dream was always on it, almost suffocating them with his overwhelming protectiveness.

They sighed, avoiding his eyes. "I- I was just... I just wanted to make you a coffee this morning. I know you're going to be busy later, so I wanted to make sure that you were energized for your work." Fiddling with their bandaged hand, (Y/N) smiled gently. "I see how you're always so dedicated to the stuff you do, and I wanted to return the favor, even if it's just a cup of coffee."

Dream's eyes softened. It was true, he was dedicated to his work. Running an SMP was hard, especially with some people interfering with his plans recently. He had plans to take power over the server again. Finding and taking everything his people were attached to was difficult, but at least he had (Y/N) to come home to. It was all for them. It was worth the hard work and pain just to see (Y/N) smile at him, showing him their love.

"It's okay. Thank you for wanting to do that, but you don't have to." Running his hand up to their cheek, he smiled. "I do all of my work for you, to help make a safe place for you. Once I sort out the rebellious people, I promise, I'll come back to you, and we can live together in my SMP." (Y/N) gazed up at him, looking into his eyes. They smiled, beaming at the idea.

"Alright! I promise I'll wait for you! I'll always wait for you. I love you, Clay."

"I love you too. I promise I will come back to you. Always."

He would do anything to see that smile on their face all the time.

She said she gave all her love to me

We dreamt a new life

Some place to be at peace

But things changed... Suddenly

I lost my dreams in this disaster

It had been two days. Two days since Dream had left. (Y/N) had since then tended to the flowers and read a few books Dream had gotten them from a faraway village.

'I wonder what he's doing now?' Looking up at the sky, (Y/N)'s mind began to wander. What was dream doing right now? Maybe he was still on his way back to his SMP? Or maybe he was trading with villagers for resources?

They smiled. Dream had been one of (Y/N)'s lifelong friends turned partner. They had met when (Y/N) used to live in a village as a child. (Y/N) was nine and Clay was ten. Dream had gotten into a rough fight with two skeletons and a zombie. He was stumbling around, trying to find help for his injuries.

That was when (Y/N) appeared. Hearing the boy's cries, they ran out of their family home, taking Dream into the house to be treated, screaming for their parents to help him.

They had grown up together as best friends after that. Meeting George and Sapnap, the group loved to go on little adventures together and play their favourite game: manhunt. Dream would always insist on running, with George and Sapnap chasing after him. Sometimes, (Y/N) would join them, but they quite enjoyed seeing the trio panic during the game. It was fun.

A couple years ago, Dream visited (Y/N), saying that he was starting up his own SMP, a place where he and his friends could have fun and just be themselves all the time. The two of them spend hours in (Y/N)'s room, talking about their big plans and ideas for the SMP. Dream wanted to build a cottage near a stream, and live there peacefully with (Y/N). They were shocked, Dream wanted to live with them? "Why?" They asked.

"Well, because of... I'll just show you."

That was the day Clay had kissed (Y/N) for the first time.

I'm crying

Missing my lover

I don't have the power

On my side forever

A month had passed. Nothing from Dream. Usually, he'd send a message through on their server communicator, asking how they were and informing them of his journey and new discoveries. But that didn't happen, not this time.

It was hard. Clay had been such a big part of their life that sometimes they found it hard not to worry about him. They knew he was strong, he could take down armies of people, but everyone had their limit.

Raising the iron hoe, (Y/N) swung down, making way for the new seeds of crops that would grow over the next few months. Wiping their forehead with their sleeve, they sighed.

All they wanted was for Dream to be safe, and for him to come back home once he finished his business in the SMP.

Oh Where is my lover

And I got no power

I'm standing alone, No way

Calling out your name

Heavy pants of breath echoed throughout the underground bunker. He was panicking. It wasn't supposed to go like this.

The plan was to kill Tubbo and make Tommy give him his disks.

It all went to shit when Punz showed up with backup, showing the people of his SMP that had turned against him fully.

"W-woah! Okay! Tommy, calm down!"

The blonde boy didn't listen, hands gripping the axe of peace and lifting it high above his head.

"Tell me why I shouldn't kill you Dream, right here, right now."

Dream silently gulped. For once, his plan failed. It backfired on him and blew up in his face. 'Sorry (Y/N). Guess I'm not coming back tonight.' He just wanted this to be over. He just wanted to be back in the cottage near the stream, sitting with his lover.

His green eyes darted around to everyone in the room. They looked disgusted, some disappointed, others angry. He knew this would never change. He would never get his SMP back. They hated him. Wanted him gone.

"Does Y/N know you're like this?"

His breath hitched. Eyes went wide.

Sapnap had stepped forward, sword out, pointing it threatening at Dream. "Do they know just how bad you are? How corrupt you've become?!" He was yelling at this point. Sapnap was upset as well. It was hard to believe that his best friend would do all of these bad things, it hurt to betray him, but he had to do what was right.

"S-stop. Stop talking about them."

For once, Dream was vulnerable. He hated it. He was always so soft when it came to them. When it came to (Y/N). Sapnap knew that. He had seen it when they were together, how happy dream was when he was with them, following them around like a lost puppy, longing for their love. It went both ways, (Y/N) was the same.

"Who the fuck is- Nevermind. Dream. Give me one good fucking reason why I shouldn't-"

"Tommy stop." Sapnap stepped in again. "This is important to not just me but for another person as well." Tommy stepped back, axe still prepared to lash out just in case. Tommy kept muttering to himself, something about a green bastard.

"Dream. Where is (Y/N)? You said they would join the SMP with us, but they're not here, nobody has seen them, probably besides you. You said that they changed their mind about the SMP, or was that a lie too?"

Dream gulped, words caught in his throat.

"Tell me, you bastard! Where is (Y/N) and do they know?!"

"No. They don't know. All I wanted to do was protect them from something I knew would happen. The wars, the chaos of the SMP. They didn't need to be a part of that. I didn't want them to get hurt."

It was almost like a plea. Dream's voice was quiet like he didn't want them to hear what he was saying. Sapnap stepped back, somewhat satisfied with his answer. He was also upset, he hadn't seen (Y/N) in years, not since before the SMP started.

Tommy finally stepped forward.

"Now. Tell me why I shouldn't kill you, Dream."

"I can bring people back to life. I can bring Wilbur back."

I said I gave all my love to you

We dreamt a new house

Some place to be at peace

But things changed... Suddenly

I lost my dreams in this disaster

Three months. It had been three long months without him. (Y/N) would spend every other night crying in their bed, missing him. They missed everything about him. No messages from him on their communicator. No death messages about him either.

They had never thought that three months could feel so long.

Surely he was busy doing stuff that would mean the world was safer for them. That's what he always said. He said that he worked for them and that he promised that they could settle down and make a new cottage near a different stream, closer to the SMP.

He said he needed to dig out the rebellious people and make his SMP a better place.

All (Y/N) could hope for was that he was safe and doing okay.

We don't know what is wrong tonight

Everybody's got no place to hide

No one's left and there's no one to go on

All I know is my life is gone

Dream was not feeling safe and right now he was feeling anything but okay.

Tommy had just broken his mask. Split down the middle, from the axe of peace.

He didn't want anyone to see his face, no one but (Y/N) and the people who had already seen it before he started wearing the mask.

His mask was his safe haven. A facade he could hide behind. With it gone, there was now no place for him to hide.

All he had done was tell Tommy that he could bring people back to life. When he mentioned Wilbur, Tommy seemed shocked, but then he seemed to come back to his senses after remembering what Wilbur was like before he died.

He went crazy. Insane. All because of Dream and his stupid motives. He only fueled Wilbur's change, encouraging him to blow Manburg up after Jschlatt took over. Thank God for Karl destroying the button the first time. The second attempt was successful and sealed Wilbur's fate as a psychotic, destroyed ex-president swayed by the masked man into committing destruction.

Tommy was angry at that. At the fact that Dream would even think about bringing back Wilbur.

Enraged, he brought the axe down onto Dream's cowering figure.

I'm crying

Missing my lover

I don't have the power

On my side forever

Sitting up, (Y/N) slowly looked around the room. It was the same as always; no Dream insight. They woke up every day with a feeling of hope that they would turn around and see Dream at the door, back from his trip.

The situation was too much. (Y/N)'s breaths quickened, eyes blurring up with tears, the salty water slowly dripping down the sides of their cheeks. They let out a dry laugh, bringing up their sweater paw hands to their face, wiping the tears.

They stared at the sleeve of the hoodie they had on. It was green.

It was his.

He always left a spare here, just in case.

It always came in handy when (Y/N) missed him.

They sighed, flopping back down onto the bed, curling into themselves and the hoodie. It smelt like him. He always smelt like a run through the forest, with a hint of saltwater and citrus.

It was comforting.

He was comforting.

The tears wouldn't stop. Every time (Y/N) wiped them away, fresh ones would keep coming. Where was he? Was he okay? It was all they could think about.

(Y/N) hugged themselves, hoping to recreate a hug like his. It didn't work. It never worked.

Nothing could ever compare to his hugs.

Still sobbing, (Y/N) cried themselves back to sleep, despite it being morning.

Not like they had any motivation to do anything without the assurance of him being okay anyways.

Oh Where is my lover

And I got no power

I'm standing alone, No way

Calling out your name

Beep.

(Y/N)'s communicator went off.

Dream was slain by Tommyinnit.

#dreamwastaken x reader #dream smp x reader #mcyt x reader #huneewrites #dsmp x reader #dream team x reader #dream x reader #dream x reader fluff #dream x reader angst #dreamwastaken angst #dream imagine #dream fanfic #dream x gn!reader #c!dream x reader #c!dreamsmp x reader

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running-on-fanfiction · 2 years

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Luke Skins - Vanilla Rose

Can i pls request a Luke from skins imagine where you're very quiet and kind and he takes advantage of that (gets you to take care of him and clean him up etc) but then you find out about frankie and maybe luke tries to hurt you so you kick him out and he realises what's up thanks so much :)

A/N: Luke is a violent, I mean that's his whole character. So there will be a warning on most of his.

*Disclaimer* DV

Song while writing: Wurst Vacation By: Ice Nine Kills

Luke had a way with people. Sometimes it got him in trouble and other times it got him something he had always wanted. You were part of the something he wanted.

You had met Luke a year ago, at a pub. He was there with his questionable mates and you were there with a group of school mates for a project. As soon as Luke walked in his eyes were on you every moment and every turn he'd made. It of course didn't take long for him to come over and chat you up either. By the end of the night you were doing things the normal Y/N would have never done in her 22 years of life. You were a good girl when you met and you were still one but not as good as you once were.

You fought with random blokes on the street, had crazy sex with Luke in some crazy places and you've had some questionable fights with Luke. You've seen Luke fight many times, girls or boys, he was no stranger to hitting. Lucky for you he had yet to lay any hands on you. So that's why this night was had for you.

The night started with you sitting on the couch reading a book. Luke had some stuff he had to do with the boys that not. You knew better then to ask to go or ask what they were doing. The last time you did Luke stopped talking to you for a whole month.

You leaned over to grab the cup of lukewarm tea, bring it up to your lips to take a sip. Peppermint was just gross when it was cold. You sighed, as you placed your book on the couch, so that your place was saved, before walking into the kitchen with the mug. You had just placed the kettle on when your front door opened and a cut up Luke hobbled in.

"Jesus Luke, what the fuck happened" You asked running towards him. Luke let out a dry laugh, as he finally sat down on the couch. Your book had fallen off as he flopped down with a heavy huff. Picking the book up and placing it on the table, you leaned down to look at Luke's face.

He let out a hiss as you grabbed his hands to look at the cuts. He was in a fight with someone who had just as much to lose as him. You were leaning in a little closer to see where the blood was coming from on his arm, when you smelt it.

Rose with a hint of vanilla.

You didn't wear Rose or Vanilla. You wear Cinnamon and Lavender.

The closer you looked the more you could see the lipstick stains on his collar. The wrinkled shirt that wasn't from fighting. As well as the belt around his pants on upside down.

"Fuck you." You spat as you shoved his arm away from you. You stood and began to walk back to the kitchen, when you felt his hand grip your arm. He pushed you against the wall.

"Excuse me." He grinned. You knew that grin all to well. It was his way of letting you know he was pissed at something someone just did or said. He know had you pinned to the wall and was so close to you, that you now had drops of his blood on your clothes.

"Oh what you can fuck her, but you can't have her clean you up. " You gritted your teeth feeling the urge to punch him in the balls.

Luke giggled like it was the most funniest thing ever. His eye landed on your lips, and before you had time to say anything they were glued to your lips.

You gagged as you could still taste her on him. You pushed him as well as you could and he hit the wall with his fist.

"Fuck Y/N." His smile faded, his eyes turned dark. He tried to kiss you again, but this time you kneed him in the jewels. He dropped your wrist, and you moved to grab the hardest thing you could get, which was a cutting board.

"You bitch." He hissed as he came towards you. He held a fist up, but before he could land it on your face, you had opened the door and screamed.

"GET THE FUCK OUT! NOW!" You knew it was loud enough for people to hear, because across the street, people were opening their front doors to see what was going on.

Luke gave you a this isn't over look, before walking past you and out the door. He turned to look at you again.

"Tell Frankie, I said hi." You said, before closing the door on him. You swear you saw a small smile on his face.

-Julianne

#luke skins #luke skins imagine #joe cole imagine #joe cole imagines #skins uk #skins uk imagines

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chrisevansluv · 3 years

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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

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?"

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!"

"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.'"

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.

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

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?"

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.

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."

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!

#chris evans #cevans #Details Magazine #2012 #interview

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bangtanreadingcorner · 3 years

Text

rumor has it [1/2] • jung hoseok

plot — your best kept secret comes out and it becomes a hot topic around your university. it also brings you and hoseok closer.

words — 3.5K

You are going to lose it.

Seriously. The next person who asks you if the rumor is true, Lord help them, you are going to go bat-shit crazy on them.

You also swore off drinking indefinitely because if you hadn't been so inebriated, you would have taken another shot instead of telling the truth. Well, maybe not because it was because of drinking shots that you ended up in this mess in the first place.

So, yeah, drinking was out of the picture for the moment.

In all honesty, you weren't embarrassed about it. About still being a virgin. You made your choice a long time ago, and you choose to stick by it. You didn't want a perfect first time, or to wait until marriage, but you want to be comfortable with the person and you want it to feel right. You've never felt that with anyone before.

And if that made you a prude in the eyes of society, well then they can go fuck themselves for all you care. You'll wait until the time is right.

You looked up, to see where your feet had taken you and was it was in the Quad. It was just a large patch of grass with picnic tables place in it. For either eating or studying or just taking a break.

You sat down at a table, and barely twenty seconds after you sat down, three guys approached you. The one in the middle opened his mouth, "Hey! Y/N, is it true?"

You sincerely hoped it wasn't what you think it was, so you decided to give the idiot the benefit of the doubt. "Is what true?"

"That you're a virgin. I wanted to know if it's true, that's all." He said with a dirty smirk, making no secret of the fact that he was trying to check you out - the picnic table hid most of your body so it didn't work as well as he hoped.

"Yes, it's true." You snapped, voice harsh as the last of your patience swiftly ran out. "Rumor also has it you're an insensitive moron. So glad we could both confirm the running gossip. Now fuck off."

The guy scoffed, "Now wonder you're still a virgin. No one likes an uptight bitch."

"Now wonder you're still single. No one likes an stupid dick." You smirked up at him, watching in amusement as he stalked off with his two friends that looked a little embarrassed.

Ah, how you love using people's own words against them. Nothing makes a person angrier than that. It's really amusing too.

There was two more incidents - two girls that were curious, and one guy who offered his experience to you. Ugh.

Your stomach dropped when you saw the next person who approached you because you actually like this guy.

"Oh, not you, too, Hoseok." You groaned when you saw him, dropping your head down on your books.

"What?" Hoseok asked, bewildered, as he slid into the seat opposite you.

You peaked at him, cheek laying on your books, "Aren't you here to find out if the rumor is true and then mock me and judge me?"

"What rumor?" He asked, a little confused, as you sat upright. You just gave him a flat look and waited. You saw the dots connect in his mind. "Right. That rumor."

"Yeah." You gave him a humorless smile.

Hoseok shook his head, expression gentle as he looked at you. "Well, no. I'm not. One, it's none of my business. And two, it'd be hypocritical if I judged you."

"Why would it-" You cut yourself off as realisation set in, your eyes widened in disbelief as you inhaled sharply. "No way."

Hoseok laughed, his face lighting up and dimples on display, "It's true."

"I don't believe it." You laughed in disbelief. Hoseok had to be pulling your leg.

"Believe it." He nodded.

"You? Seriously?" You couldn't wrap your head around it.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He frowned at you.

"I don't mean anything by it, it's just . . ." You paused for a moment, gathering your thoughts and then settled with your default setting: brutal honesty. "Well, to be perfectly honest, you're like a wet dream come to life and it's a little hard to believe."

Hoseok's cheeks flushed and a satisfied warmth stirred in your belly, "I, uh, I've never wanted to. I mean, I've had girlfriends before but never enough to want to take them to bed."

"Now that, I understand. I've had two boyfriends and both of them I dropped when they kept pressuring me for more and I didn't want too." You told Hoseok who nodded along with what you said.

"Yeah, I know right. I mean, one of my ex-girlfriends accused me of not loving her." Hoseok actually pouted a bit as he spoke. You giggled at the sight, endeared by him. "She was right thought, I didn't love her. I liked her a lot, but it wasn't love. I don't think I've ever been in love. Not really." He looked at you. "Have you ever been in love?"

"I don't know." You admitted. "I mean, how do you know when you love someone? It's not like you can measure it."

"That's a fair question. I mean, I guess it's something you just know. Like, when you listen to a song and you know you love it after listening to it once. Maybe it's like that." Hoseok said and then suddenly he looked down, seeming embarrassed. "Sorry, you probably think that's dumb."

"No, no, not at all. I think it kind of fits." You said hastily, not wanting him draw the wrong conclusions. "I actually understand what you said more than when someone tries to tells me about how sometimes love is fate or destiny or written in the stars." You pulled a face.

Hoseok laughs and it makes you laugh back.

"Did you want something?" You asked him, when you both calmed down, still smiling.

"Huh?" He asked, clearly a little confused. You thought he looks adorable.

"You came over here," You reminded him. "I assume it was to ask or tell me something."

"Oh yeah." Hoseok's cheeks flushed again as realisation lit in his eyes. "I just wanted you to know that Jae is adjusting nicely to the classes."

A smile automatically spread on your lips at the mention of your nine year old sister. She recently started hip-hop classes and that was actually how you met Hoseok, he's her teacher. One afternoon your mother asked you to pick her up after practice and you and Hoseok talked a bit, and you found out that you go to the same university but just different major's. His is dance and yours is business.

"I'm glad." You smiled wider at him. "You didn't have to come all the way over here to tell me that though."

Hoseok let out a nervous laugh, rubbing at the nape of his neck as he looked at you shyly. "I also wanted to know if I can buy you a coffee sometime, maybe? I wanted to ask you out the day we met, I didn't think it would be appropriate, 'cause I was at work and all."

Now it was your turn to blush, pleasantly surprised by his offer. You had found yourself liking your sister's dance teacher, too, but you didn't know if he would say yes. And he wasn't some random guy could ask out and just forget if he says no.

You smiled, cheeks on fire as you looked at him. "Yeah, I'd like that."

"How does Saturday sound?" Hoseok asked excitedly and your stomach dropped.

"I can't, sorry." You told him, watching as his face fell. "Not because I don't want too. It's just, I promised my mom I'd spend the whole Saturday with her and my sister because according to her she doesn't see me enough." You hurried to explain.

Hoseok smiled again and your heart lifted, "Okay, how about Sunday afternoon?"

You don't think you've ever nodded so fast in your life. "Yes, that's perfect."

***

That Saturday when you went home, your mom squinted at you as you hopped on the kitchen counter as she made breakfast. "What is going on with you?"

"Nothing." You smiled innocently at your mother. She's been giving you looks since you arrived.

"Am I suppose to believe that all this smiling and the happy sparkle in your eyes is from nothing?" She asked, raising a brow. You decided to tell her because you and your mom have always been close. And you've been wanting to tell someone who won't tease you about Hoseok. Your best friends Minji and Jamie does that enough. You also wanted to tell her before she finds out by herself. You would never live it down.

"I'll tell you, but I don't want you to make a big deal out of this, okay, mom?" You said, grinning excitedly.

Her curiousity effectively peaked, your mom nodded eagerly. "Yes, yes, I won't. Promise."

"Okay, so, there's this guy I really, really like and we're going out tomorrow." You gushed, barely holding in a squeal as your cheeks hurt from smiling so wide.

Your mother gasped, a smile of joy spreading on his lips. "Oh, oh! This is wonderful news. Who is this young man that's managed to capture your attention? Is he nice? I hope he's not a troublemaker like your second boyfriend. Why, I heard the other day that he got arrested from breaking into someone's home. Can you believe that?"

You winced at the reminder of your second boyfriend. Not one of your proudest moments but you had a lot of fun with him. Right up until he wanted to get into your pants. The relationship went downhill pretty quick after you said no.

"I can't say I'm surprised." You admitted, because he always liked to skirt at the edge of the law, it was only a matter of time before he broke it. Luckily you got away before it went that far.

"Enough about him, though. Tell me about this boy of yours." Your mom pushed with glittering eyes.

You cheeks flushed, "Well, he's not mine yet, mom. And it's just a coffee date."

"Tell me his name then." She prodded hopefully.

You gave her a sheepish smile, "I can't, sorry."

"Why not?" She frowned.

"Because you know him." Now you smirked at her, knowing she'll drive herself crazy, trying to figure out who he is.

***

You couldn't remember the last time you were this nervous.

Oh, no, wait. You could. It was right before you went to get your final results for high school. You didn't sleep that night and you barely slept Saturday night. Falling asleep early Sunday morning and sleeping until finally your alarm woke you up at 11:00AM.

You immediately started getting ready. You took a shower, used a hairdyer for the first time this year (air-drying is much easier and more fun) before taking a hair straightner to your unruly mop of curls. You picked a nice outfit but decided to forego make-up. That would be too over the top for you.

Your phone buzzed with a text a little after 03:00PM.

You smiled widely when you saw who it was. You and Hoseok had exchanged numbers after he asked you out and kept in touch over the last week.

Hoseok

See you in a bit.

You

Can't wait!

You walked to the cafe you two agreed to meet at, nervous but also excited. You entered the cafe and heard your name being called by a familiar voice.

A smile automatically spread on your lips as you walked to the table where Hoseok was waving from. You couldn't even find it in yourself to care about the people staring at you. He stands up when you arrive at the table and goes to pull out your chair but you wave him off with a smile.

"Hey, I'm not late, right?" You asked with a nervous smile.

Hoseok shakes his head, beaming at you. "Nope, I'm early."

You looked at the time on your phone and smiled. 03:24PM. You're both early then. Sure, only six minutes, but it's a good sign, right?

"How've you been?" You ask as you pushed your phone into the back pocket of your jeans.

"Good. I actually caught up on some overdue work, yesterday. You?"

"I'm fine. It was nice spending time with my mom and my sister."

The waitress comes up to your table with a notebook. "Are you ready to order?"

Hoseok's sunny grin dims a bit. "I forgot to give her the menu."

"It's okay." You laughed brightly. "I come here often, so I know what I want." You assured him, then looked at the waitress. "I'd like a bubblegum milkshake and a big chocolate muffin."

"Okay," The waitress nods, repeating your order as she writes and you confirm it. She turns at Hoseok, "And for you?"

"I'd like a hazelnut latte and a waffle with peppermint and chocolate ice cream." He orders. You both wait until the waitress leaves before resuming your conversation.

"Interesting choice. The hot with the cold." You grin at him.

"Mmn, I didn't take you for having a sweet tooth."

You froze for a bit because normally you don't have a sweet tooth, not really, but it's not like you could tell him you're having pre-period cravings.

"Depends on my mood." You said instead, and it was the truth. You ate whatever you were in the mood for in general, not just when you are on your period. But you also like salty food more than sweet, but whenever you crave something sweet, it's usually because of your monthly gift from Eve.

Hoseok nods, accepting the answer. He tilts his head at you, "How's your mom and sister?"

"Well, my sister is an adorable little pain in the ass like always and my mom is starting a list of all the guys she knows, but overall they're good." You told him, laughing a bit as you spoke.

"Do I want to know?" He looked at you, equal parts curious and wary.

"I don't know, do you?" You asked teasingly, smiling at him, wiggling your eyes brows.

He thought for a moment, "Yeah, I do."

"It's nothing bad. I just told my mom about our date, and when she asked for your name, I told her that I can't tell her because she knows you."

Hoseok frowned ever so slightly, "Why didn't you want to tell her?"

"Because I don't want her to bombard you with personal questions until we figure out where we want this to go." You explained, gesturing between the two of you with your index finger.

Hoseok's eyes twinkled with mischief and laughter as he asked, "Ah, so she can ask me the personal questions after we start dating then?"

"Oh, yeah," You nodded, liking the idea of dating Hoseok all too much. "You'll have to prepare yourself to answer anything from what your first word was, to what brand and colour underwear you wear."

Hoseok burst out laughing and you smiled as you watch him. You like the way he laughs, unrestrained and so fully. It makes you feel warm inside.

You talk about this and that until your order arrives. Technically it was dessert, rather than food but eh, neither of you minded. And this was supposed to be a coffee date. It was already better than you two planned.

"Jung Hoseok." You called him seriously, after you finished eating your muffin, fiddling with the straw of your milkshake.

He sobered up, looking a little startled, "Yeah?"

"I adore you." You said, giving him a soft, slow smile.

His cheeks flushed and you realised you like making him blush.

Hoseok looked at you, eyes serious despite his red cheeks. "I really like you, Y/N."

Blood rushed to your cheeks and your heart picked up its pace. You looked down, sipping on your melting milkshake. When both of you were done eating and finished drinking, you ordered another milkshake and Hoseok ordered another latte.

Neither of you were ready to go home yet.

"So, why dance?" You asked him somewhere after your third milkshake, curious.

"I've always found it easier to express myself with my body rather than words." He shrugged, looking a little shy. "It's my greatest passion. When I'm dancing, I'm free."

"I'd like to watch you dance sometime. If you don't mind."

"Yeah, sure. I don't mind." Hoseok shook his head. "Why business?" He asked in return.

"Promise you won't laugh?" You asked first, looking at him seriously.

"I promise."

"And you can't tell anyone and I'll know if you have because I haven't told anyone. Not even my mom, but I think she suspects."

"I won't." Hoseok swore, sitting a little straighter.

"I want to start my own shoe store. Originally I wanted to study something in a fashion direction, I like designing shoes, but the industry is tough to get into. So, I figured I'll start smaller and work my way up." You looked down at the table, fiddling with a serviette.

"Wow. That's like . . .your whole future planned out." Hoseok said, looking at you with wide eyes.

You snorted, "Not really. It's just a dream. It's going to take hard work to make it into a reality."

"You can do it. I believe in you." He said, so sincere that you had no choice but to believe him.

When you finally went home, it was dark and Hoseok walked you back to your dorm room. Halfway there, he brushed his hand against yours and when he slid his palm against yours, you happily entwined you'd fingers.

You opened your door and turned to him, ready to say something but he beat you to it.

"I had a really great time today." He said with that ever present sunny smile that made your heart sing when he directed it at you.

"Me too. It was much better than I expected." You said, only realising after his smile dropped how that might have sounded to him. "Not that I expected it to be bad, just a little awkward because you make me nervous. Really nervous. But it wasn't awkward at all. I was comfortable from the beginning."

"Oh." Hoseok breathed softly, and you could heard the relief in that one syllable. "I'm glad you enjoyed it. Maybe we could do it again, sometime?"

"Oh, we better." You told him seriously.

"Well, I should get going. We have class tomorrow." He took a step back from you, clearly intent on leaving. You looked at him with raised brows.

"You're really not going to try for a goodnight kiss?" You laughed.

Hoseok let out an indignant huff, crossing his arms over his chest. "Hey, don't laugh at me. I'm trying to be a gentleman here."

You positively melted from his words, heart speeding up. You gave him a look full of adoration. "Hoseok, you are always a gentleman and I appreciate it," Your gaze turned a bit mischievous. "But you should know that I've been wondering what it would be like to kiss you since the day we met."

His eyebrows rose, jaw going slack as he looked at you in surprise. "Really?"

"Yes, really." You nodded, amused. "So, whenever you're feeling like being ungentlemanly, just know I wouldn't be opposed to it."

"Okay." He nodded dumbly and you laughed.

"Good night, Hoseok." You told him fondly.

"Night." Hoseok echoed, taking another step back and then turning away from you. You waited until he reached the stair case before you closed your door, letting out a squeal of happiness.

You took of your shoes, haphazardly kicking them into the shoe rack, pulling off your baby pink sweater as you padded to your room, humming with a gigantic grin on your face.

It wasn't five minutes since you arrived home when a knock sounded on your door. You threw your sweater on the bed, heading to the door.

"Yeah, I'm coming." You called, and the incessant knocking ceased. Probably Minji or Jamie that wants to borrow a book or some paper to print a project. You opened the door, frowning slight when you saw who was on the other side, "Hoseok? Is everything okay?"

"I'm not feeling very gentlemanly right now." He declared before stepping closer, grabbing you by the neck and kissing you until you were breathless, your socked covered toes curling.

"Good night." He said when he pulled away, then added on, "For real this time."

You laughed a little, feeling so ridiculously happy. You wondered if you could combust from it.

"Text me when you get home." You blurted, still catching your breath.

"Promise." He nodded, licking his lips. You leaned forward to peck them one last time. For now.

You laughed again, practically vibrating with giddiness as you closed the door for a second and final time.

***

AUTHOR'S NOTE: !!this is not the end!! *pouts* Tumblr told me that I filled all of my 250 boxes, so I have to split it. It's like my fic duet all over again. *le sigh* Idek how people write 12K fics and still fit it in.

part two

#bangtan #bangtan fanfic #bts fic #jung hoseok #hoseok #btsjhope #bts hoseok #jung hoseok x reader #jung hoseok x oc #jung hoseok x you #hoseok x you #hoseok x oc #hoseok x reader #hoseok imagine

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gifted-burnout-archive · 4 years

Text

Jim’s Best Friend

Part Nine - Stamford Bound

Word Count: 2066

Author’s Note: I decided that Jim and Y/N need a tradition. So, have a nice little chapter with fabricated backstory!

WARNING: none.

April, 2006.

"Am I proud of myself?" Jim repeated the question, a smile erupting onto his face. "Honestly, kinda. Nice knowing I made Patrick and Y/N happen, and even though it's only been two months... I feel good about it." He looked to the producer.

"Oh... You meant about the whole Stamford thing..." Jim's face fell. "I, uh, yeah... It's a step up isn't it? Not like I have reason to stay here anyway."

—

Ever since January, Jim had been doing whatever he could to forget about his feelings for Pam: he booked a trip to Australia, he interviewed for the Stamford job, he had even gone out on a few double dates with you and Patrick. But, seeing both of his best friends so happy with their relationships and jobs, he couldn't help but feel left out of the loop. He had even complained to HR about Pam planning her wedding in the office, though the two patched things up quite quickly.

Both you and Pam had been in full blown wedding mode, and as her in-office bridesmaid, she asked at the end of February, you were helping with Save the Dates, dress colours, flower arrangements, everything. And you enjoyed it, being swept up in the whirlwind of love that filled the air.

You and Patrick had been dating as official boyfriend and girlfriend for about a month and a half, and you couldn't remember a relationship that made you happier. You even moved The Notebook from your handbag into a drawer in your apartment, since you were fully commited to an exclusive relationship now. Poker at Jim's was the best thing that had happened to you in a while, and the whole office knew it.

You were even more bubbly than the bride-to-be, managing to keep a smile on your face through all of Dwight's bullshit, and you were making more sales than ever before. And despite you and Patrick deciding to take things slow, more for your sake than anything, the bi-weekly date nights had added colour and purpose into life again. You hadn't felt so good in a relationship, and in general, for years.

As you finished up on another big sale, an email pinged up on your screen from Jim. You glanced over, but he was pretending to be busy so that Dwight wouldn't bother him, and you instead focused on the email.

Do you think I could talk to you before the casino tomorrow? In private? Need your advice on something. - J xx

You pulled out your keyboard and quickly began typing back, sending the message over quickly before your phone rang again. Jim opened the reply email as soon as he received it, scanning over the computer screen.

Of course, why don't we go to the park after work? Just us two. Get hot dogs for dinner, my treat? - Y/N/N xx

Jim smiled at the message, trying to remember the last time you had both gone for a Hot Dog Date, or HDD. It would have had to be before you went to Spain the year before. It first occurred the year Jim arrived at the office, you had only been in sales for a few months yourself, promoted from the warehouse. It was a Friday, and you were complaining about having to go shopping straight after work. Pam was taking a sick day, and Jim offered to buy you dinner. It wasn't a date or anything, and when you both decided that hot dogs couldn't be topped, a tradition begun.

Anytime either of you were too stressed or tired or simply needing a chat, a HDD took place. A walk in the nearby park, followed by Hank's Hotdogs on your favourite park bench overlooking the pond, and then the pair of you just talked. For hours. The only way you left that bench was when the rain came down too hard for your umbrella to bear, or the night enveloped you in a cold that threatened catching the flu. That first time, Jim told you about college, about feeling stuck at Dunder Mifflin, about not knowing what to do with his life, and you shared the real reasons you never ended up in college: how you started working full time in the warehouse when your mom got sick, how Michael took you under his wing and got you into the sales position.

A thousand times yes.

He responded, and the pair of you got back to work, only stopping for coffee breaks with Pam and another one of Michael's meetings.

—

"So..." Jim started as you sat down beside him on your bench, handing him a hot dog and setting down two cans of soda on the bench between you. "How's Patrick?" He asked, and you sat back.

"Not a chance, Halpert. You called for the HDD, you share first. Them's the rules." You said, biting into your hotdog with enthusiasm. You had been eating healthy with Patrick, and as much as you loved the whole 'eat good, feel good' thing, you missed junk food. He sighed, and looked out at the pond, his eyes following the ducks that swam around for a few minutes, chewing on his hot dog as he thought. You stayed quiet, letting him think through it all, he usually did this. Sometimes, it would be twenty minutes before either of you spoke, but the silence was warm and relaxed. There was no expectation.

"I think I'm going to transfer to the Stamford branch." Jim said finally, and you looked over at him. Before you could ask, he continued. "There's an opening for Assistant Regional Manager, the money's better... It's only a few hours drive away. And I already interviewed..."

"So the other day, when you were at a doctor's appointment..." You trailed off, and Jim nodded.

"Dwight gave me the idea, if you could believe it... And I need to go somewhere new Y/N. It's not like I'll move up in Scranton... Not like I'll move on." He sighed out, and took the last bite of his hot dog, washing it down with some grape soda.

"I..." You stopped, taking a sip of your own beverage. "I get it. And while Michael's speech on the boat was motivational, it wasn't exactly realistic." You shrugged, leaning forward on your knees. "Pam loves you, but Roy is her fiancé. She loves him more."

"You... You heard what Michael said?" Jim asked, and you looked over with a smile.

"Yeah... Came looking for him, found you both deep in the throws of success speeches." You giggled, and Jim smiled back a little. "Can't believe he thought we would get together." You added, and Jim nodded.

"Could you imagine? The anarchy would be neverending." He chuckled, and you were glad you could cheer him up a little. It was shit, being in a situation where no-one was wrong. Roy was good to Pam, Pam was a wonderful woman, and Jim couldn't help being in love with her. He sat up straight, and stood up, offering you a hand to get up. You took it, rising to your feet and looking up at him with a raised eyebrow. "So, what about you?" Jim asked, the pair of you beginning a stroll around the pond, the lamps overhead slowly turning on as the sun set, painting the rolling clouds in colour.

"I think I'm in love." You said decidedly, and Jim stopped in place.

"Really?" He asked, his eyes lighting up with joy, and you let out a soft laugh.

"Oh, it's too early to say anything but... I don't know, Patrick has agreed to take things slower than he's used to, and he just... He makes me happy?" You went pink. To think that only months ago, you were still with Brian. Jim pulled you into a hug, picking you up and spinning you round. You squeaked in response, the pair of you sharing a laugh as he put you down.

"You deserve it, Y/N. I expect to be you maid of honour." He teased you a litte, and you elbowed his side playfully.

"Don't get too ahead of yourself. I just, I'd like it to last." you shrugged, continuing to walk.

"I'm glad he's over Jennifer." Jim made the offhand comment after a few minutes of strolling, and you glanced over.

"Jennifer as in Jennifer Young?" You asked, and Jim nodded, frowning when you did.

"What's up?"

"He's out with her tonight... Some other friends from work too, of course. I just didn't realise she was the ex girlfriend." You said slowly. Patrick had talked about her an awful lot during the last two months, but you just thought she was a friend to him like Jim was to you.

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about it Y/N. They ended in January, amicably. Maybe they just lost the romantic spark, cut it off?" Jim suggested, and you nodded in agreement. There was never any point in overthinking friendships, it would only make you feel worse.

"You're right... Oh! I'm bringing him along to the casino night tomorrow, he can finally meet the office. Meet Pam!" You said with a smile, slowing down as you spotted an ice cream shop across the street. "Do you want ice cream?" You asked suddenly, and Jim grinned, throwing an arm over your shoulder.

"You are adorable." Jim said, and you looked up at him, still waiting for an answer. "Yes, of course I want ice cream." He rolled his eyes, and you exited the park together, crossing the street and walking up to the store counter.

"You know, there's rumours going around about Dunder Mifflin going international..." You said after ordering a strawberry ice cream and sprinkle cone. "Overheard Jan talking about it on the phone at the Women in the Workplace meeting."

"Where would the office be based?" Jim asked, getting two scoops of cookie dough flavour in a cup. You paid and walked back towards the park, Jim digging into his dessert by your side.

"Either Madrid or Vienna... I thought I would talk to her next time I see her, see if it's still happening. I don't know now though, since Rick and I..." You said, licking the ice cream slowly. The idea of Jim leaving suggested that maybe you should try something new too. You had been at the Scranton branch three years more than he had.

"They could use you! Your Spanish is... Well, I don't know Spanish, so I can't be sure, but I bet your Spanish is great." Jim encouraged it, and you smiled, letting out a breath. The pair of you slowed down, walking along the rickety wooden dock and taking a seat at the end, the half moon shining down onto the midnight blue water.

"Is this it then?" You asked, looking up, taking another lick of your ice cream, catching a drip before it hit your hand. "The end of an era? The three musketeers, no more." You said, and Jim shook his head.

"Not a chance... But, maybe... Maybe it's the mid season break? A chance for all of us to take a breather, reunite for the thrilling finale, end with a bang." He said with a grin.

"There's nothing thrilling about office work, Halpert." You reminded him with a giggle.

"On the contrary, Y/L/N. Because, while my time left at Scranton may be short, I can say with complete honesty." He stopped, taking your free hand in a gesture of faux affection. "For a day to be thrilling at the office, there simply has to be you and I... And Dwight so we can slowly torture him to insanity." He smirked, and you burst into laughter. Once it died down, you and Jim fell into that comfortable silence once more, finishing your ice creams.

The walk to his car was short, the car ride home quick, and you gave his hand a squeeze as you got out in front of your apartment.

"I do not know what in the world I would do without you, Jim." You said honestly, a smile on your face. "So if you leave, I have to get at least one email a day."

"No matter how many times you make me watch it, Y/N, I will never, ever be Ryan Gosling." Jim pouted, and you rolled your eyes.

"Night, Jim."

"Night, Y/N."

Tags: @imsuperawkward

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