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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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impala1967dwinchester · 3 years

Text

We found each other- Part 5: Bitches and Jerks

*Credit to saucynewf*

Pov: Dean

Chapter Summary: After a few weeks of being back with Sam and bobby. Dean finds a hunt. Werewolves, but Sam can't help but yell at his brother due to his stupid action.

Pairings: Dean W. x Reader, Reader x Platonic!Sammy, Bobby is mentioned a little

Chapters Tags: Inner thought, fighting, yelling, running away from problems, blaming, screaming, angst, feelings, anger, description of blood, and wounds.

A/N: @firefly-graphics for dividers

Word Count: 2.4k

We found each other Master List

Dean Winchester Master List

Main Master List

Here we are again, back at bobbys. Back in the same trenches of hunting. It's been over two months, I've been ignoring Y/n. Ignoring the true way I feel about her. keeping my mind strictly on finding hunts, cleaning my guns, and being what Sam calls a true asshole.

The true asshole that means I have no feelings towards anyone. Not even the random girls I being back to bobbys and in frank words fuck before asking her to leave. I've become everything that I would think Y/n doesn't want. If I become something she'd never want maybe she'd realize just how much I didn't deserve her.

I've been back for a while now, getting used to the shack-like house that is bobbys home. I'm not bashing his home, but I will say that I'm missing Y/n comfy guest bedroom and her oh-so-wonderful bathroom. I miss the way the house smells as she makes dinner.

'Look now, you left because you have to keep her safe, So stop thinking about her'

The whole point to leaving. Is to do something, but I can't grasp the idea or how it's going to work. So for now I ignore it, I ignore the raw feelings, and emotions that I have for Y/n.

Her warm smiles as she invites you into her home. Her gorgeous giggles, and laughs as she watches a funny movie. Her lavender and rosy scent could make me drift into a blissful mindset. She's a ravishing-looking woman, a shit ton of alluring features. Features that blow your breath away.

For now, I ignore that. Focus my mind on hunting. I've found a case, a case of werewolves. Focusing on any other than her is all I've got right now.

"So, Sammy I've found a hunt," I say as I walk into the small living. Sam didn't talk to me for the first few days when I got back from Y/n's. He hums, and Bobby answers me.

"Where is it, boy?" He asks. We've known bobby for so long now at this point he might as well be our father. Taking care of us since we were young when our dad was so hell-bent on getting the thing that killed mom.

He's the one that taught me about cars. Taught me to play catch, teaching me so much so that I'd hopefully turn out nothing like my father. He taught me all the basic normal boy things, so I'm forever grateful for that.

"It's a clear-cut werewolves case. A small town in Minnesota called Lanesboro. They've been having issues with a ton of missing people coming back claw marks all over their bodies. Two females and two males. The new article says that they were camping for the summer." I say, reading a bit more of the article to hear what Bobby or Sam had to say.

Nothing from my younger brother, but Bobby did have a few words to share with me. "I'll grab some silver, Sam grab your bags. Go with your idjit of a brother."

The huffing and puffing that left Sam were clear that he didn't want to come with me. Or even do this hunt with me. He got up all 6'4 of him passing by me. His shoulder bumping into mine.

I sighed and walked into the small dining room that's connected to the kitchen grabbing a bottle of Jack and pouring myself a hefty amount into the clear crystal glass.

Sipping and not judging on the liquid, Bobby came walking back into the room. "You know, maybe Sam is right." He said setting down the bag on the counter. The clicking and clacking bouncing off the walls.

"What do you mean bobby?" I ask a furrowed eyebrow showing my confusion. "You know what I mean Dean. You shouldn't have left her." He said. Pulling a few slivers knifes out of the bag, and placing them on the counter.

"Yeah Sam is right, but I can't drag her back into this life. You should her Bobby. She's got a good home, there are no monsters hunting her down. She at peace, and I have no intentions of putting her in danger." I say before now jugging the rest of the hot liquid. My throat burns as it runs down.

"Look, Dean. I've known you since damn well you were a baby. I know when you are 'Head over heels" for a girl. Yes, she is at peace, but remember this isn't just about her." Bobby said, Sam, coming into the room stopping our conversation.

"If we are going Dean, then let's go now," Sam said his short and harsh tone telling me that he is still very upset with me. Bobby patted Sam on the shoulder and he left out of the back door, I got up grabbing my bottle of Jack, and putting it back in the cupboard, before grabbing the sliver knives on the counter.

"Call me if you need any extra help, okay Dean." He says patting my shoulder and sending me out the door. The ride to the small town was the quietest it had ever been in baby. I didn't dare turn the radio on knowing that would only piss him off more.

The same crappy motel was our choice of living arrangements for the few days we'd be here. Doing this always reminded me of watching scooby doo as a kid. Solving crimes and saving people.

Like a told Sam years ago when I took him from college. "Saving people, hunting things, the family business" That's what we are good at, saving people, not ourselves. Saving ourselves from this life. We are meant to hold the whole world on our shoulders. We save the world even if we're crushing ourselves in the process.

Not that it's important.

Sam went to the morgue to check out the theory that it was in fact a werewolves hunt. I went out to the camping grounds, it was taped off by the yellow tape. I flashed my FBI badge to the guard standing by. My suit kept clean as I walked around the scene.

Their tents were torn to shreds, and so were their belongings. According to the police report, they had a young lady at the police station who had seen the whole thing.

So leaving the campgrounds I traveled back to the town. The people walking hand and hand gave me a shiver down my spine. A shiver of sadness, of loneliness maybe I shouldn't have left her.

Maybe we could have figured it out, not like she had much to figure out. It was me who kept us from having everything that we could possibly need. I think as I drive to the police station.

I roll into the free space at the station. Killing the engine to baby, Sam hadn't said much before he left for the morgue. It wasn't but a few minutes' walk from our shitty motel room. I sat for a moment in baby and reflected on the past couple of months.

A couple of months ago I was sitting in a nice old furnishes home. With a sweet woman laying in my lap. A sweet meal being made, the sweet life hitting me hard as I again realize that I'm sitting here and not sitting next to Y/n

'you're an idiot

I get out of baby and walk into the station. The cold air blast into my face. The young lady at the desk looking up at me, like I'm the very first man she's ever seen. She brushes her hair to the side, pushing herself in the rolling chair closer to the counter.

"Hi Sir, can I help you?" HSe asks a southern twang rolling from her lips. I smile that devil smile that can get me anything I want from anyone I meet.

"Yeah, you sure can' She interrupts me "Delilah" I sigh gently, before speaking again. "Well Delilah, you can help me. I'm here on official business' Raising my FBI badge, her eyes widen, and she gets up from her chair. Her face is inches away from mine now.

"What type of official business?" She asks, I smirk and she melts back into her roller chair. "Go ahead, Agent Collins." Her southern draw coming back.

I guide myself to what I assume is the Captain's office. I knock on the glass door, and he gets up with an angry and confused look. "Hello sir, I'm here with the FBI to talk to your witness about the campgrounds killings," I say another flash of this damn fake badge.

"What is the FBI doing here?" He asks his deep and very much not southern voice rang. "We are just making sure they're no crazy people messing up your investigation," I say stuffing my badge back in my coat pocket.

He leads me to another section of the police station. The meeting with the young lady goes as excepted, she claims that I won't believe her, calls her crazy. A few words like "Try me, ma'am", or "It's alright, I won't say anything". She tells me that she saw a man-shaped thing, with long claws and what looked like sharp teeth mawl the group of campers.

From that, I left giving the young lady a pat on her shoulder. I get up and smile briefly at the southern women at the front desk. Rushing out the door, and to baby. I rev her engine before driving down the road to our motel room.

When I walk in Sam's sitting at the small dining room table. Pretty much set way too close to the motel door. He looks up and notices me walk in.

"So according to the doctor in the morgue, she says that they look like they got attacked by bears," Sam says, his face looks tired, and he looks entirely worn out. "I've also got a place of where this pack may be out in the woods." He says, he shuts his laptop down, and toes off his FBI black shoes.

"Tomorrow Sam, we can go tomorrow. You look like shit, get some sleep and fight them tomorrow in the light." I say. He looks over his shoulder an odd look on his face. It's the look of 'I want so badly to fight you, but I'm so fucking tired' I look down at my shoes.

I hear the bathroom door slam, and get undressed into more comfortable clothes. Clothes that still keep the peach dryer sheets smell that Y/n uses.

I slip into the uncomfortable bed and fall asleep. I dream of her, she's in my arms and humming a wonderful song in the background. She's wearing my t-shirt my favorite. She's playing with my bread, Y/n loves when I keep my bread longer. She says that she loves the feeling between her thighs. But for right now she's right here in my arms. I have awoken abruptly when I hear Sam scream next to me. Sam is still asleep. A shitty nightmare cutting into my nice dream. I get out of bed checking on the clock, it's been my four hours. Sam's been having nightmares since we were kids. He'd scream and I'd come to rescue, and that exactly what I did tonight.

We don't talk about me waking Sam up in the morning, we just get ready for the hunt. Grabbing our bags and putting them in baby's trunk. The drive to the hunt was quiet. But once we got there Sam wouldn't shut up.

"You know you should have stayed." He says. "What?" I ask in return. Confused about where the sudden want for conversation came from. "Tennesse," He says, grabbing a case of silver bullets.

"With Y/n?" I question. "Yes with Y/n you ass. You know you should have just told her the truth instead of leaving." He says jamming his bullets into his gun.

Backing up before Sam starts to get anymore bitchy. I leave him behind baby, and go to kill the engine. When I come back I grab a machete, and my guns slamming the trunk.

Coming into the pack, Sam takes out two werewolves, and I shop a few heads off. Before we meet up in the middle of the area. He screams at me now. "She loves you. And you just throw that away!" He screams. I yell back, "No Samuel. I didn't throw it away. I saved her from a life she's already gotten out of!" Yelling as always hurt my throat, so when I'm met with an ugly monster, I slash straight through them.

My anger showing as I run and cut my way through the force of monsters. Again I hear Sam yell "She knows that you're trying to save her, but she doesn't want you to save her. God, you're the stupidest person I've ever met." He says the ringing sound of his bullets hitting the metal siding.

By the time we get out and have killed all the werewolves. I'm covered in blood, drenched in blood. There's another ding, the same dings that I've been ignoring since I left Y/n's sweet home.

>Hey Dean, I know you probably aren't going to respond. It's been 60 days. I'm a little confused about what happened. I heard you talk about loving me when you come back after Sam called me. I guess I'll stop messaging you. Thank you for the peaceful time you gave me when we were together.

That's it. I can't take this anymore I jam my phone into my pocket. "Let's go, Sam," I say, but he's reluctant to get moving. "Dean, you're covered in blood first off, second off I'm tired of yelling and screaming, the stupid fighting because, well because of you." He says, he sounds tired just like me.

"Fine Sam," I say. The drive back to the motel is quiet, but the tension is gone between the two of us. I've worn myself out by trying to ignore the intense feelings that I have for Y/n. Regardless of me trying to save her. I never gave her a choice, when the choice should have been easy because I wasn't supposed to get attached. But got attached, attached to her. To her smile, to her personality, to her love for others.

And I'm such a dick, Sams right. I left her after I claimed to be the better man after her mother died. I left her to be alone. To turn into me, she'd never take me back now would she? Why would she take me back?

What am I supposed to do now? I fucked up massively haven't I?

We Found Each Other Part 6

Completed on: 07/02/2021

Posted on: 07/03/2021

Dean Winchester Tag List: @akshi8278 @deanswaywardgirl @doctorlilo @hit-meup69 @wonderfulworldofwinchester @fofisstilinski

We found each other Tag List: @samsgirl93 @stoneyggirl2 @ijustlearnedtolove-beep-bop-boop

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thatonegirljessy99 · 3 years

Text

Loving Myself and You (pt.1)

Work Count: 1,600+

Warnings: none

Summery: Tsukishima and Y/N have been something for a little while how. What were they exactly, definitely more then friends, but not even close to being together. You finally have had it with whatever this is and decide it is time to move on and put yourself first. So with Tsukishima out of the way, how will you progress with the friendships you never really got to form?

A/N: It is 4 in the bloody morning, and yes this is exactly when I got the idea to start a series. Have mercy on me cause I haven't written in a hot minute and I should definitely be asleep by now 😅

*********************************************

“You guys have been doing great in the tournament!”

“Yeah, the team is actually doing really good for once! Hinata looks like he never seems to run out of energy!”

There were a few laughs and giggles coming from around the corner. It has been happening for the team from time to time now. Other students were starting to realize that the Crows were starting to fly once more. The volleyball club was no longer just some random sports club at Karasuno and it was amazing!

Kinda.

You laughed a little thinking it could be Daichi getting noticed by the underclass girls again. Last time it caught him off guard as he was coming back from the restroom when a group of girls came up to him in aw.

“Yeah, I’m glad he is on our team because it would be a pain to try and block him,” you heard a voice laugh making your stomach drop.

All you could do was keep your head down as you walked by Tsukishima, not wanting to make eye contact. It isn’t like you could do anything even if you were jealous. What you two had was a secret, unknown to the world or anyone at the school. These days you also didn’t know exactly what you and Tsukishima had to begin with.

You were so caught up in your own thoughts that you didn’t even hear when the group dispersed, only snapping out of your thoughts when you felt someone pull you into an empty classroom causing you to sigh as you fixed your blazer. You didn’t have to look at Tsukishima to know it was him.

“Can I help you, Tsukishima?” you said glancing up at him before turning to face him.

“You haven’t talked to me recently. I tried talking to you when we came back from out last game-”

“At training camp, I know. I’ve been busy. School and stuff,” you rolled your eyes a little before looking up at the tall blonde,"I see that you've been busy too. I shouldn't keep Karasuno's great blocker for too long."

"Y/N, come on. You really believe I care for any of the fan stuff," Tsukishima smirked moving closer to hold you hand but you took a step back while crossing your arms.

"It doesn't matter what I think. I don't have time for this right now. I have to get to class and finish my work if I want to make it to dance on time after school. My recital went fine by the way," you huffed before opening the door to the class room and walking out as if nothing had happened.

In all truth, it really annoyed you the fact that he hadn't even bothered to text you good luck while away at the training camp. Volleyball was everything to him even when he said he didn't care for the game. And it was nice to see him actually getting into it finally but it was a bitter feeling since you were the only one getting excited about things.

He's such an idiot… all he's good at is blocking. Volleyballs, people….

You couldn't stop thinking about how Tsukishima seemed to be getting more attention. Not as much as the upper class men but enough to light a fire in your soul. There is really no way of knowing how you were even able to get anything done at school as you avoided Tsukishima for the rest of the day until it was time for you to go to dance. You went quickly into the girls bathroom to change into your leotard, putting on your gym sweatpants and a hoodie on top before starting your jog three blocks down the street.

Once you were practicing however, all you could focus on was the music. Even though you had just finished your recitals, your school was holding their next show in two months. Your role, Princess Aurora in Sleeping Beauty. You had already been practicing your part for a little over a month so the moves came easily to you, your movements flowing swiftly as you practiced Aurora's Act I variation. It was a relief to be able to just rely on things that were set in stone, your feet moving on there own at this point from the hours you spent practicing.

"Don't have your arms so tensed Y/N, remember to keep them light throughout the performance," your teacher called out to you midway though your practice, only earning a smile from you as acknowledgement.

"Watch that transition into the chaînés!"

Miss Nakamura, one of the best ballet instructors you could find in Miyagi. She had known you since you were 3 and your mom put you into ballet. Her love for dance led her to stay single for her whole life, saying she never needed a partner to feel happy when she had her children to teach everyday. She truly looked out for her students and thought of each of them as her own kid from how long they were under her care. She was now in her mid sixties, still with all the energy of a thirty something. Her hair having turned white in her late forties, she wore it down with a beautiful gold hair clip holding it back during class.

"You have improved a lot since we last practiced this in class. I'm glad to see all of you have been practicing the Sleeping Beauty pieces even with your recitals keeping you busy. I want to see the fairy variations next and I want you all to be going over act one while I focus on this group. As per usual, the studio across the hall is open and I expect all of you to practice. Tomorrow we start working on act I."

*****

After practice all you could feel was sore, the warm night only making you wish you could rest in the grass before making it home. But as you got closer to your home you saw a familiar shadow standing under the streetlight waiting for you. The closer you got the clearer Tsukishima's features got. He looked irritated, probably due to the fact you had shut off your phone for most of the day to avoid contact.

"Y/N."

"Tsukishima."

"We need to talk," he spoke in a cool tone, letting you know that no wasn't an answer right now.

"Tsukishima, I am tired. I just got out of a four hour practice and just want to get home, take a hot shower, and eat some soba my mom made," you sighed adjusting your dance bag while keeping eye contact with the tall man child," plus I have nothing to talk to you about."

"Really? Cause I think you do. What was this morning about in the hall?" He questioned starting to let his temper show in his voice as he adjusted his glasses.

"What is literally anything about?!" You snapped at him," you say you care for me and are sweet to me when it is just the two of us but literally the second a bird flies into our immediate area you turn into all this!"

As you gestured at him you dropped your dance and school bag before taking a step closer to him, your high difference meaning nothing to you since your attitude made up for it. You had been holding back since this thing started a few months back but now your damn was finally breaking.

"I talk to another guy and they get daggers glared at them. Some girls compliment you and it goes straight into your ego! I can't even hang out with any of YOUR teammates because you don't want them to know about us! But, I mean, is there even an us?! What are we?! You kiss me goodnight and then you act like I don't exist in school or anywhere that isnt under this stupid light post!"

What happened next only put the final nail in the coffin as you watched Tsukishima scoff and smirk at your remarks as if they were a child's complaint. He leaned down to get to eye level with you before speaking, watching as your eyes never left his for a second.

"You knew I didn't do commitments since we were kids. You and I were never anything serious. You wanted affection and I provided it while getting some myself," he explained in the most matter of fact tone ever, almost as if he expected you to simply accept that answer and just continue with things as they were," my studies and myself are my first priority. And if I glare at some guys trying to talk to you it's because I know they aren't convenient for you."

"Yeah, well guess what. You don't get to decide what is convenient for me. And from now on I will make myself my priority as well as my happiness," your voice seethed with anger, catching Tsukishima off guard as you had never talked like this to him before.

Normally you two would fight, you would give in and apologize, and then Tsukishima would buy you food to make you happy. This however, was not how this conversation seemed to be going. You ran your fingers through your hair before smirking and picking up your bags without looking at him.

"This, whatever it is, is over. Interfere with my life and you will regret it Kei. I don't need your affection, and I don't need you. From here on out, I will talk to whomever I want, regardless of what you want," you spoke in a confident voice as you stood up straight before walking past him, only stopping for a second before walking by him,"let's see if this shows you how your priorities are what make you so miserable in life."

***************************

Part 2

A/N: Oh look at that, a part 2! Maybe you should click on it.... just maybe...

#haikyu x y/n #haikyuu!!#haikyu x reader #haikyu #haikyuu tsukki #tsukishima #kageyama #hinata #Loving Myself and You

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angelsswirl · 3 years

Text

Vellichor

The One With Very Chaotic Pool Party

"Sugar, we're going down swinging."

Peyton knocked on the door harshly, "Ryland! Hurry the fuck up! Everyone's already here and I haven't even gotten to shower!"

A huff came from behind the locked door, "Go use the one in moms' room!"

"Oh! I can't believe I hadn't thought of that!" Peyton rolled her eyes, even though her older sister wouldn't see it.

"See, there you go."

"That was sarcasm, dipshit. Mom is in there."

"Peyton! Don't call your sister a dipshit!" Jisoo yelled from somewhere in the house.

"How did she even hear that?"

Ryland finally exited the bathroom a few seconds later. Her hair was tied back in a immaculate ponytail with a baby blue scrunchie that corresponded with the rest of her hot weather outfit.

Peyton glared at the young woman, "What were you even doing in there? You look exactly the same?"

Ryland gasped, terrified, she quickly backed into the bathroom again and slammed the door shut.

"Sleep with your eyes open." Peyton muttered at the locked door.

"Peyton! Stop threatening your sister!" Jisoo yelled again.

"What the hell?!" Peyton yelped.

You frowned as you left your bedroom, Kaleb sat on your hip, his swim trunks and rashgaurd coincidentally matching Ryland's baby blue outfit.

"Your mom's right. You need to stop threatening your sister with bodily harm when she does something you don't like."

Peyton's frown deepened, "It wasn't a threat. It was a suggestion. I'd hate for it to be an unfair fight."

You just stared at your youngest daughter, "You know, when Lia dropped you on your head as a baby I didn't really think it would manifest itself into this."

Peyton pouted, "Lia dropped me?!"

"Well, technically it was Jisoo and you landed on the bed. Just..head first. In your mother's defense, she didn't know Lia was going to jump onto her stomach. You were on her chest. It was like those big air blob things you see at summer camp on a lake. It was actually kind of funny. You thought it was too while you were in the air. After you landed, not so much."

"And somehow I still love you." Peyton deadpanned. In all honesty, that story made a whole lot of sense.

"I love you too!"

Kaleb tugged on the collar of your shirt lightly, "Build?"

You smiled at your youngest, "Yeah, we can build. I think mama moved your legos outside, is that okay?"

Kaleb thought about it for a second then nodded. He didn't care where his legos were as long as he got to use them.

You urged Peyton along one more time, before setting off to the backyard.

~•~

"You're going to burn a whole through the poor kid's head if you don't stop staring." Sana said as she pushed the meat around the grill some more. She didn't know what she was doing really. But she was precariously watching a YouTube video with instructions. YouTube University to the rescue once again.

"She wants to defile my child. I know this as fact. That's all I was thinking about at that age." Jisoo said without breaking her gaze.

"And yet, you remained a virgin until 27. Funny how stuff like that works itself out." Irene spoke up, she shooed Sana out of the way of the grill and set about fixing things.

"If I lost my virginity at 27, how would I have had Lia? Oh, you were joking." Jisoo pouted.

"Got it in one." Irene's words dripped sarcasm, "I thought you got over that. Seulgi and I met at 19 and 18, you didn't seem to have a problem about that then."

"I was also 19 and neither you or Seulgi are my fucking daughter. How would you feel if Maya just suddenly walked into your house claiming your sworn enemy's kid was her mate?"

"I killed all my enemies back in the late 90's."

"Could you give me two seconds of sincerity, Irene? Please." Jisoo's shoulders slumped.

Irene rolled her eyes, "Is Maya happy in this scenario?"

Jisoo looked as though she didn't want to answer that question, "Well...yeah."

"Then I'd be happy for her. Like you should be with Ryland."

Sana nodded along with Irene's statement, "As far as I can tell, neither Rosè or Taylor are bad people. Ryalnd is happy. Shouldn't that be all that matters?"

Jisoo huffed defeatedly, "Fine. You're right. I'm going to go talk to the kid."

Jisoo practically stomped off in the direction of the teenager.

Irene looked on with a proud smile, "You know, Sana? I think our little girl is finally growing up." She wiped a fake tear from her eye.

"The ribs are burning." A voice stated from the side of them.

"Shit!"

"Oh hey, Jennie. When did you get here?"

~•~

"Ryland, do you mind if I scare the shit out of your girlfriend? Thank you." Before Ryland could respond, Jisoo dragged Taylor away by the arm.

Taylor stood up straighter and puffed out her chest, "Hello, Mrs. Kim. My name is Taylor Bae-Park and I-"

"Look, kid. I don't need all of that. I just need to know a few things. Do you love my daughter?"

"With every single breath I take."

Jisoo tried to keep her scowl to a minimum.

"Are you treating her right?"

"I like to think so."

"Are you pressuring her into anything she doesn't want to do?"

"Of course not."

Jisoo sighed, "That's...good to hear. Alright, if you end up going all the way with this thing then so be it. Just promise me this, if she ever starts acting like...well, herself and you can't take it anymore, just bring her back. Her mom and I are use to it."

Taylor nodded stiffly then saluted, "You have my word!"

"Did you just sal-you didn't-I'm not..whatever." Jisoo took a sip of the beer she had completely forgotten was in her hand.

Taylor began to walk away, but Jisoo stopped her, "Hey, Taylor? Tell Chaeyoung I said 'Hi'." Taylor nodded with a smile, then jogged back to the edge of the pool.

Jisoo stayed rooted to the spot, almost jumping out of her skin when arms encircled themselves around her waist.

"That was very hot." You practically purred into Jisoo's ear, "You being all protective mama bear. It's a shame we're hosting this little get together, because if we weren't I'd get down on my knees for you and-"

"Okay! Why don't you put a pin in that thought for now, while I go completely submerged myself in the pool for about 10 minutes, yeah?" Jisoo shuffled out of your arms frantically.

You only laughed hysterically as Jisoo awkwardly hobbled to the pool edge then jumped straight in.

"20 years later. Still got it." You gave yourself a mental pat on the back.

~•~

"Jesse Kim! You are way too old for me to have to tell you to stop standing on tables." Lisa shouted up at her son. He had always been a climber. He had given her and Jennie multiple heart attacks as a baby.

Jesse only smiled charmingly at his mother, then set about continuing to do what he was doing, "Friends, Family! I have an announcement to make!"

He had managed to catch everyone's attention, though most of them probably wanted to see if Lisa would throw a shoe at him to get him down.

"As you all know, I was going to go into my second year of college at Julliard, but what you don't know is that last week I got a signed a record deal with Columbia records!" He smiled brightly.

The rest of the partygoers clapped enthusiastically.

"But they suck."

"Peyton!"

"Not only that, but after talking with my 'rents, I've decided to say fuck college and I'm going to perform full time."

"You just couldn't keep it PG, could you?" Lisa took a long sip of her chilled wine. Jesse shook his head with a happy smile.

There's a scraping of a lawn chair against pavement and a dissatisfied huff. No one really notices accept for the people closest.

Jisoo moved to go talk to her oldest daughter, but stopped when a hand is placed on her shoulder.

Jennie shook her head subtly, "I think I have some aunting to do on this one."

Jisoo looked a bit skeptical, but let Jennie walk off in Lia's direction nonetheless, "Alright, but come get me if you need me."

"I got this, Chu."

Lia had stormed around the house to the front stoop. She sat on the step with a huff. An angry tear hit her cheek just before being forcibly wiped away.

"What's up, Li?" Jennie sat on the step next to her. She had a feeling she already knew what the problem was, but it wouldn't do her any good to assume and be wrong.

"...I was supposed to be like you and Aunt Seulgi. But no, I just had to get that stupid disease and it just had to ruin my fucking voice." Lia squeezed her eyes shut to prevent the oncoming spillage of tears. There's an idle throb in her throat as if to taunt her.

Jennie rubbed her back softly, "I know that this is hard for you, Kid. If I knew Jess had planned on doing that, I would have talked him out of it. You know how he gets."

Lia only shrugged and shook her head, "It's whatever. What's done is done. Peyton commited to SUNY. I should be used to it."

"I don't think you should have to get used to your life passing you by. You're not a failure. So, what? You can't sing anymore, but that's not all you are. You're a successful youth soccer coach. You just graduated college. You're completely independent of your parents. Those are all things to celebrate."

Lia nodded softly. Jennie did have a couple of points, "It's just...hard."

"I know, Li, but you're not alone. You've got me, your parents, your siblings, and all of your other family and friends to help."

"Yeah, okay." Lia nodded.

"Now, you want to get back to this party?"

Lia nodded resolutely, "Yeah. Mama said I have to beat Taylor in a game of Chicken Fight to assert my dominance."

Jennie only sighed, "Yeah, that sounds about Jisoo."

#vellichor #jesssica's fanfic #blackpink fanfic #blackpink #jisoo fanfic #jisoo x reader #kim jisoo

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