#his career should have ended when the taylor situation happened | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nerdzzone · 3 years

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Luckless Romance

Summary: When Whitney Taylor was lucky enough to get the job of a lifetime doing a photoshoot for Marvel Studios, she didn’t expect to come away from the experience with a new friend. Especially not a friend that she quickly fell head over heels for.

Convinced that those feelings were completely one sided, she kept them to herself - until one night changed everything.

Chris Evans x OFC

18+

Prequel to: Once Bitten - Twice Shy + -More Hearts Than Mine-

Note: While this is set before the other two parts of this story, I would definitely recommend reading the other two first if you haven’t already. I know that might seem odd, but I do think it flows better that way. This is more of an aside than an introduction, I think, but it could just be that I wrote them in this order so that’s how it makes sense to me.

Anyway! Thank you to everyone who has been eagerly awaiting this part of their story. The support has been so motivating and I’m already working on more little snippets of their lives together that should hopefully be posted soon.

Please let me know what you think!

_____

August 2015

Growing up in Los Angeles - especially with a rather well known uncle - I was very aware that celebrities were really just normal people who usually weren't deserving of the obsessive adoration they received from the general public.

That being said, it still felt very surreal when I found myself sitting around a table with some of Hollywood's biggest stars as we celebrated the end of a long and tiring photo shoot in which I was the photographer. Three weeks earlier, I had been slaving away at a department store portrait studio taking boring, uninspired family photos, so the contrast between that and where I was now - sharing drinks with the cast of Marvel's next big movie after wrapping my first real photography gig - would be enough to make anyone feel a tad awestruck.

It didn't help that it had all come together so quickly that I'd hardly had time to wrap my head around it. The photographer that they originally had lined up to do the shoot had some kind of family emergency and had to drop out at the last minute. They were going to postpone the shoot indefinitely, but my family connections with Iron Man provided another solution. My uncle Rob wasted no time in giving Marvel my name and portfolio and less than twenty-four hours later I was signing a contract for the biggest career opportunity I'd ever had.

I was endlessly grateful - the pay was far better than I was getting at the department store and there was plenty of potential for more Marvel related photo shoots in the future - but the pressure was nerve wracking. I'd hardly slept at all in the few days leading up to it and by the time we wrapped, I was exhausted. As the adrenaline faded and the relief that I survived kicked in, I was very much looking forward to crawling into my bed with a nice glass of wine to get a good night's sleep before I started the editing process the next day.

But there was no time for rest with this crowd and it was quickly decided that we were all going out for some kind of unofficial wrap party. The official one had been two weeks before when they'd finished filming in Georgia, but now that they were reunited in L.A., it seemed another celebration was necessary. I'd protested at first and tried to sneak off before they could realize I was gone, but my uncle thwarted my plan and, after a few minutes of heavy guilting about how long it had been since I'd spent any time with him, I reluctantly agreed.

Which was how I found myself sitting at a table in a private room of a popular bar with my uncle - Robert Downey Jr - my Aunt Susan, Chris Evans, Anthony Mackie, Sebastian Stan, Scarlett Johannsen and Paul Rudd. There were other cast members and their friends dotted around the room, some sitting by the bar while others played pool, and I couldn't help but take a moment to be grateful that I'd been given a chance to join this team of incredibly talented people in some small way.

I was also taking a moment to be grateful that my placement in the booth we were sitting in gave me the opportunity to be sandwiched between the wall and Chris Evans - who smelt so good that it should probably be illegal.

There'd been a spark between us all day. He was attractive - I'd known that going in, it was a pretty beautiful cast - but seeing him in person with all his Captain America muscles was really quite a sight.

But it was more than just that.

There was something about the way he looked at me, flashing me those blush inducing smirks along side his teasing comments and the way he was so genuinely kind and polite to me throughout the whole day. I was sure that my uncle had warned them that this was my first high profile shoot, but Chris had been incredibly supportive and he never came across as condescending if he offered me any suggestions. He checked in with me throughout the day to make sure that I wasn't getting too overwhelmed and it was very much appreciated despite the fact that his effortless flirting often left me more distracted than productive.

Sitting next to him now, feeling his thigh pressed against mine due to the tight squeeze needed to fit our whole group around the table, had me very distracted again until my uncle dragged me back into the conversation.

"So, Whitney, how's Trent?"

His question, or more likely the displeasure in his voice when he asked it, captured the attention of the table and all eyes were on me as I shrugged.

"He's great as far as I know, but I haven't talked to him in a while," I admitted. "We broke up a couple of months ago."

"Thank god for that," Robert grinned. "It's about time!"

"Don't be insensitive," Susan scolded him, which probably would have been deserved if I didn't know how accurate of a statement it was. "Are you okay? What happened?"

"I think she means 'what horrible thing did he do that finally made you come to your senses'?"

Susan swatted at her husband, but I cringed at the memory.

"It was really bad. I don't even want to tell you."

His jaw tightened at that remark as his glee shifted to something more like concern.

"What did he do? Do I need to assemble my team of Avengers and kick his ass?"

I giggled at the thought of that happening as all the men around the table voiced their willingness to help.

"Thank you, but no, I'd rather you didn't," I assured them. "It wasn't anything horrific, it's just embarrassing that I ever went out with someone as sleezy as he was."

Chris glanced down at me with a smirk on his face.

"Well, in that case, you gotta tell us now..."

The rest of the group nodded in agreement and I, rather foolishly, looked at my uncle for support, but all I received was a shrug and a raise of his eyebrow as if to say 'go on'. So, against my better judgment and with a sigh of shame and regret, I explained.

"He took me out for drinks on my birthday and invited some woman that he met on Tinder to join us," I informed them. "Apparently, without my knowledge, he'd advertised that we were looking for someone to join us for a threesome that night which was his birthday gift to me."

There was a collective widening of eyes and, after approximately two seconds of stunned silence, a howl of laughter came from my uncle. The rest of the group, however, seemed unsure what to say until Paul spoke up.

"Well, was that was you asked for?"

"No!" I shrieked in protest. "I mean, to each their own, but no! Absolutely not!"

My uncle looked like he was about to cry from laughter as the rest of the group joined in with him. All except for Chris, who was biting back a smile with what seemed to be a considerable amount of effort.

"Guys, c'mon, don't laugh at that!" He scolded them. "That's horrible!"

"Oh, don't feel too bad for her," Robert warned him, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. "The guy took her to Hooters on their first date and she still agreed to see him again."

It was true and looking back, I had no way to justify such a poor choice. I felt my cheeks heat up as I took a long sip from the gin and tonic in front of me.

"Shut up," I huffed. "He said he just liked the wings there..."

"That's classic," Sebastian smirked. "That's what they all say!"

"Why did you even agree to go out with a man named Trent?" Anthony chimed in. "There's no way someone named Trent isn't going to be a douche bag."

Chris laughed then, throwing his head back as his hand came up to rest on his chest.

"That's true!" He howled and, as embarrassed as I was by the situation, I couldn't help but feel a different kind of flush at the sound of his heartfelt laugh.

"Okay, okay, that's enough," Susan chimed in despite the smile on her face as well. "It sounds like poor Whitney has learned her lesson so there's no need to make her feel any worse."

Robert shrugged and gave me a pointed look.

"As long as she promises to make better choices."

I appreciated that he had my best interest at heart, but I rolled my eyes anyway in a show of annoyance.

"Don't worry," I assured him. "I'm swearing off men for a while so there will be no choices made at all, good or bad, for the foreseeable future."

Susan frowned at that information, clearly displeased by my resignation to being alone, but luckily, a distraction arrived at our table and forced a change of subject - a distraction in the form of Jeremy Renner with a very full tray of shots.

Everyone cheered at the sight of him, but my uncle nudged me under the table to draw my attention back towards him.

"This is why I call him the Lord of the Underworld," he warned me. "Be careful..."

"Don't listen to him!" Jeremy insisted, handing out two shots to everyone except my aunt and uncle who weren't drinking. "I just know how to encourage everyone to have a good time."

"Does this group need any encouragement?"

Scarlett's question earned a laugh from the crowd, but Jeremy nodded his head.

"Apparently so or you wouldn't all be sitting in a corner, nursing your first drinks!" He pointed out. "So, drink up!"

He lifted a shot glass in the air and we all copied the action, giving a 'cheers' before tossing back the sharp tequila he'd chosen. The second shot went down almost immediately after and as I felt it burning down my throat, I knew we were in for quite a night.

"So, how are we going to do this?" Chris asked as we stood around a ping pong table with Anthony and Scarlett a bit later in the evening. "Girls against boys?"

"No way, man," Anthony shook his head, putting his arm around Scarlett's shoulders. "I want this one on my team."

"Ouch," Chris smirked. "But whatever, I was just trying to make it fair. If you want to play against the two best players then that's your choice."

"You literally met her today," Scarlett reminded him with a laugh. "How would you know what her ping pong skills are like?"

I opened my mouth to defend myself, but my uncle beat me to it as he chimed in from where he sat at a nearby table.

"She's terrible at almost every sport, but what she lacks in skill, she makes up for with competitive spirit."

"Terrible is harsh!"

My protest did nothing to reassure Chris though as he shook his head.

"Good thing I have enough skill for the both of us then."

"I have skills!" I insisted. "Let's stop messing around and I'll prove it."

Anthony joined in the laughter at my expense as he bounced the ball on the table.

"Alright, do we all know the rules?" He asked. "The ball has to bounce once on your side of the table before you can hit it back."

"First to ten?" Chris suggested. "We'll let you guys go first."

We all agreed and Anthony bounced the ball again as he prepared to serve. He started off slow and gentle, lobbing it over slowly enough that I returned it with no trouble. However, when Scarlett hit it back, Chris made it clear he was here to play as he hit it with enough force that Scarlett had to leap out of the way to avoid being hit.

"Yes!" I cheered, reaching over to high five Chris. "Nice one!"

"Okay, I see how it is," Anthony shook his head as he tossed the ball back to us for our serve. "No holding back now."

Chris smirked as he easily caught the ball. He didn't waste any time before throwing it back with a hard serve, but this time they were ready for it and Anthony hit it back easily. He aimed it at me, which I could only assume was deliberate due to my uncle's doubts of my abilities, but I managed to send it straight back. His surprise at my success was clear as he was unprepared for it to be heading back in his direction and we scored another point.

"Beginners luck!"

Robert's interjection from the sidelines earned him a rude gesture from me, but I knew he was probably right - unless the last couple of drinks had somehow sharpened my reflexes and I seriously doubted that as I was already well on my way past tipsy.

However, the next few rounds showed that my uncle had been wrong and I, apparently, had quite a knack for table tennis. Chris and I worked together like a dream and were absolutely decimating Scarlett and Anthony. The game was almost over as fast as it started, but when we only needed one more point Chris suddenly appeared to give up. He missed shot after shot and we were quickly losing our lead which was making me lose my temper.

"Dammit, Chris," I huffed, trying to suppress my annoyance as he missed a very easy ball. "Get it together over there!"

"Me?!" He gawked. "I thought you were going to get that one!"

"It was clearly on your side!"

"If that's what you think," he started as he picked up the ball and came back to the table. "Then you need to get your eyes tested, sweetheart."

"Don't 'sweetheart' me," I shot back. "Start paying more attention before you make us lose."

"Whatever you say," he smirked at me before adding: "Sweetheart."

I shot him a glare and - without thinking - I swatted his very hard to ignore, perfectly sculpted bum with my paddle. He yelped, catching the ball that he'd just thrown into the air with the intention of serving and stared at me wide-eyed. I was almost as surprised by the action as he was and I opened my mouth to apologize, but I was interrupted before I could.

"Careful there, Whitney," Sebastian warned from where he sat with my uncle at the spectator's table. "That's Marvel property!"

"They're very protective of it too," Anthony joked. "It's one of their best assets."

"Yeah, so show it some respect," Chris demanded, looking cocky despite the slight red tint to his cheeks. "And anyway, if you're trying to get me to focus then I don't think making me think about spanking is a great strategy."

"Ooh," I giggled. "Someone get me the number for TMZ! I've got tomorrow's headline ready for them: 'Chris Evans likes to be spanked'!"

Chris barked out a laugh, shaking his head as he gently served the ball.

"Who said I like to be the one receiving?"

My mouth went dry when I realized what he was implying and several uncalled fantasies flashed through my brain. With that short little sentence, images filled my mind of him using his large hands for something entirely different to what they were currently doing - something that perhaps involved bending me over his lap. I felt a wave of heat wash over me at that thought as my gaze was drawn to him while I wondered if he was aware of the effect that he had on me. I was so pathetically distracted that I didn't even see the ball coming back towards us until it hit me on the side of my head.

Despite my embarrassing blunder, Chris and I managed to get ourselves together quickly enough to still win the game and our victory was promptly celebrated by another round of drinks.

My aunt and uncle left not long after that as they were eager to get home to their young children, but my uncle couldn't go without a few parting words when I hugged them goodbye.

"Chris is a good man," he informed me. "I'm not sure what his stance is on threesomes, but he wouldn't take you to Hooters on a first date, that's for sure."

I could tell what he was implying, but I questioned him anyway. The only answer I could pull out of him was a teasing wink and Susan ushered him out the door with a roll of her eyes and firm instructions for me to call them soon.

I tried to push his comment from my mind because the thought of a man as handsome, funny and intelligent as Chris Evans even considering the idea of taking me on a date seemed like insanity, but I would have been lying if I said it didn't instill a tiny flicker of hope in me. I was fairly certain that he had been flirting with me so maybe it wasn't entirely as far-fetched as my low self-esteem would have me believe.

I tried not to dwell on his words too much through the rest of the evening, but it was hard to shake the idea from my mind. Especially with how tactile he was with me. Whether it was when we moved on to dancing and he pulled me close, whenever we were walking to the bar and kept his arm draped around my waist or when we eventually settled on a pair of bar stools, sitting close enough that my knees were tucked between his.

That was how we were sat, tucked together at the bar, when I finished another drink and realized that the fuzziness in my head and the weight of my eyelids were telling me that it was time to head home. I wasn't eager for the night to end, I wanted to stay in this little flirtatious bubble as long as possible, but I could feel the alcohol induced fatigue hitting me and I knew I needed to leave before I no longer had the energy.

"How are you getting home?" Chris asked when I announced my departure. "Do you want some company while you wait for a cab?"

"Oh, that's okay," I assured him as I slid off the bar stool I'd been sitting on. "I'm just gonna walk."

"Walk?" He raised an eyebrow. "Where do you live?"

"Only about twenty minutes away," I shrugged. "It's no big deal."

I was being purposely vague, but Chris' questions persisted until I finally confessed what neighbourhood I lived in. Once I did, a worried look clouded his face.

"Really? That's not a great area..."

"It's not that bad!" I insisted. "I mean, I'll definitely move once the photography thing picks up and I would appreciate if you don't tell my uncle, but it's not that bad."

"He doesn't know?" Chris raised an eyebrow, giving me a look that could only be interpreted as one of judgment. I nodded in answer to his question and he sighed, tossing back the last of the beer in front of him before standing up as well. "Just let me say goodbye and I'll walk with you."

"No, no, you don't have to do that! Stay with your friends."

"My Ma would kill me if she found out I let a woman walk home alone and I'm guessing Robert would have something to say about it too from what you just said," he insisted, flashing me one of his dazzling smiles. "Besides, I was gonna head out soon anyway."

"Are you sure?"

He nodded in response.

"Absolutely."

I felt bad that he was leaving because of me, but I had a feeling that any arguments would be futile. I followed him around the room, saying goodbye to the few people who were still at the bar before we headed outside. As soon as the fresh air hit me, I really felt the full affects of the several drinks I'd had throughout the night and I was quite grateful for Chris' company on my walk.

"Thanks for doing this. I'm sorry you had to leave early."

Chris had pulled his baseball hat lower on his head, probably in an attempt to hide his identity a bit more, but the people bustling in the streets were too oblivious or drunk to pay much attention.

"Don't worry about it," he smiled down at me. "It was time for me to go anyway. I've had enough wild nights with Renner to know that nothing good happens after midnight."

"Oh, I see how it is," I smirked. "I thought this was a chivalrous gesture, but it's just an act of self-preservation."

Chris laughed, a deep laugh that made my smirk slide into a grin, as he held out his arm for me to take which I happily did.

"Can't it be both?"

"I suppose. I guess you must be pretty chivalrous to take on a role like Captain America." As soon as the words left my mouth, I felt my cheeks heat up. "Sorry, that was dumb. I sound like some shitty interviewer. Like, 'tell me what aspects of the character you see in yourself'."

I'd put on a bad, faux news anchor voice for the last part of that sentence and I felt Chris' arm shake as he chuckled, but he shook his head.

"Nah, it's fine. It's a fair question," he assured me. "I think I've always been pretty chivalrous. I'm close with my mom and two sisters so they made sure I knew how to treat a lady. But that is one bonus of playing a character like Cap, he has such strong morals and such a steady sense of right and wrong, it inspires me to be as much like him as I can be."

Just as he finished his thought, I stumbled over an uneven part of the sidewalk and was only saved from face planting by his grip on my arm. I flushed with embarrassment again, but the alcohol in my system had me dissolving into giggles.

"Sorry, thank you. Wow, I'd say you really do have some Captain America traits." I flashed him a smile. "Was it like a lifelong dream for you? If you don't mind me asking, last question about it, I promise."

"You can ask all the questions you want," he shrugged and it seemed genuine, not just an expected assurance. "But no, it wasn't. I actually turned it down several times."

"Really? You did? Isn't a role like that every actor's dream?"

"Probably," he nodded. "But I did the Marvel thing with Fantastic Four and even that little taste of fame was almost too much for me. Don't get me wrong, I love what I do and I'm so grateful for all the opportunities I've been given, but it can be a lot to deal with."

"Those obsessive fangirls too much for you?"

"Sometimes," he admitted. " I was already having panic attacks, so I wasn't sure that I could handle taking that next step. But it's more just the total lack of privacy that comes with fame. Not just for me either, I knew it would affect my whole family."

"That makes sense," I nodded, knowing from my own experience that he was absolutely right. There'd been a few unfortunate incidents on slow news days where articles about 'Robert Downey Jr.'s niece' had popped up after some of my poorer choices in life. "Are you glad that you went for it now?"

"Absolutely! It was the best thing I've ever done. There are times when I still struggle, I don't do well at the premieres with all the pressure and the people, but the whole cast is like a family so the support is amazing."

"It's really sweet how close you guys all seem to be."

"It makes a big difference," Chris agreed as we turned off the main street in the direction of my neighbourhood. "But what about you? Have you always wanted to be a photographer?"

I paused for a moment as I tried to get my rather tipsy brain to figure out the simplest response to his question.

"Yes and no," I finally answered. "I've always loved photography, but I never really considered it as a career until about two years ago. I actually went to university to study accounting."

"Accounting? Wow, so you're a math wiz?"

"Hardly," I giggled. "It was what my dad wanted me to do to guarantee myself a solid career, but I hated it. I flunked out within a year. I'm not entirely sure that my dad has ever forgiven me for it, he was really disappointed in me."

"But surely he just wants you to be happy, whatever job you have..."

"You would think so," I shrugged. "Doesn't feel like it all the time though. He's very against the whole starving artist thing. He's not a bad person, but he's very practical and just can't understand how suffocating an office job would be for someone who likes to be creative. I get the impression that just being around me these days exasperates him."

I felt another blush cover my cheeks as I realized I was over-sharing. It could easily be blamed on the alcohol, but Chris was a good listener and I found him very easy to talk to.

"Sorry," I mumbled. "That was more information than you probably needed."

"You don't need to apologize so much," Chris assured me. "I wouldn't have asked the question if I didn't want to hear the answer."

"Sor-" I paused. "Bad habit, I guess."

Chris squeezed my arm and shot me a reassuring smile before getting our conversation back on track.

"So, what made you persevere with photography in the end?"

"I just really enjoy doing it. I love capturing those unexpected moments, like the awkward laughter in between poses, the moments when people have their guard down and don't realize how beautiful they look. Then, when I get to share the photos I've taken with people and they see themselves in a different way, the joy it brings them makes it worth any financial struggles." As I finished my explanation, a thought struck me. "I actually got some good ones today, just on my phone when you guys first came in, not doing the planned and posed stuff."

They'd all been so excited to see each other even though it was just a few short weeks since they'd wrapped the film. It was sweet and I hadn't been able to resist capturing their reunion.

"Really? Could I see them?"

"If you give me your phone number, I can send them to you," I smiled up at him. "That would actually be helpful. They're obviously different than the ones I took for the actual shoot, but you can tell me if they're any good or if you think I just got the job because of my connections."

I reached into my bag and handed my phone to Chris so he could type in his number which he did before shooting me a skeptical glance.

"Do you really think your connection to Robert is the only reason you got the job?"

"Well, it was all so last minute. I can't help, but assume it's a mix of desperation and some pulled strings," I admitted. "But I know this is my one shot. Robert really believes in people making their own way in life so if I totally blow this opportunity, I know he won't fight for them to have me back again and I wouldn't want him to."

We turned another corner, taking us just a few blocks from my apartment building as Chris answered.

"I'm sure he wouldn't have gotten you the job if there was any chance that he thought you would fail," Chris assured me. "But he is a good person to have in your corner. I probably wouldn't have taken the Captain America gig at all if it wasn't for him convincing me I could do it. He can be very persuasive."

I smiled at that information. I knew my uncle didn't like to take no for an answer so I could imagine how that conversation went.

"He can be very encouraging when he needs to be," I agreed. "Even if that encouragement sometimes comes out in the form of publicly shaming someone for their taste in men."

Chris let out another deep laugh and shook his head.

"C'mon, you gotta admit you deserved that."

"I did not!"

"He took you to Hooters and you didn't run away as fast as possible," Chris reminded me as if I could have forgotten such an embarrassing decision. "If that's not deserving of some public shaming then I don't know what is."

"Dating is hard these days," I huffed. "Maybe it would be easier if I had giant muscles like you, but it's hard to meet people."

"I think having muscles the size of mine would actually make you less hot."

I couldn't bite back the giggle that slipped from my lips as I looked up at him with a questioning raise of my eyebrows.

"Less hot?" I asked. "That would imply that you think I'm hot now."

"I do," Chris smirked confidently. "I think you're fuckin' gorgeous."

His words instantly made my cheeks heat up again. I'd baited him into the compliment, but I didn't expect his blunt and honest answer. I was stunned into a momentary silence that only made Chris' smirk grow wider until I giggled once again.

"You're just drunk."

"I am not," Chris chuckled. "Well, maybe a little, but that doesn't change the facts."

There was a grin on my face and I felt like a little schoolgirl with a crush. Chris Evans just called me gorgeous. Any woman who said they didn't swoon in that situation was probably lying.

"That's very sweet of you to say," I told him, trying to play it cool. "You're pretty easy on the eyes yourself."

Chris squeezed my arm again as he flashed me a smile.

My apartment building was in sight now, just half a block away, and I was disappointed that our evening was about to end.

I was comfortable with Chris. He was nice and easy to talk to and I'd had more fun and laughs with him in the last few hours than I'd had throughout most of my last relationship. But despite our harmless flirting, I knew he was too good for me. I knew that I didn't stand a chance with him and that when the alcohol wore off and the sun came up, he would see that. As much as I wasn't ready to say goodbye, I could hardly keep us walking in circles around the block without him noticing so I reluctantly slowed to a stop outside my building.

"This is me..."

Chris looked up and nodded slowly.

"It doesn't look so bad."

"Because it's not!" I insisted. "Honestly, this isn't that bad of a neighbourhood."

"Well, it's not that great either, Whitney."

Another giggle slipped from my lips as I pulled my keys out of my purse, reluctantly slipping my arm from his.

"Your accent makes my name sound funny," I teased. "You don't say Whitney, you say Win-ney."

Chris laughed, but shook his head.

"Now who's drunk."

"Oh, definitely me," I admitted. "But that doesn't mean I'm wrong."

"Okay, Winnie, whatever you say."

He said my name wrong on purpose that time, but there was something about it that put a smile on my face. Emboldened by the alcohol and by his flirtatious nature, I decided to take a chance.

"Do you want to come up for a bit?" I asked. "One last drink maybe?"

Chris hesitated, but after a moment of thought, he shook his head.

"Nah, I should probably get home. I think I've had enough drinks for tonight." His solid reasoning eased the blow of rejection slightly, but it still burned me up inside. "Thanks for the invite though, maybe I'll take you up on that offer another time."

"Sure," I nodded, hoping I was masking my disappointment. "That would be nice."

"Great," he grinned before pulling me into a hug. "It was nice to meet you, Winnie. I have a feeling that we're going to be good friends."

Friends.

Good friends.

His words echoed in my head as I agreed and slipped out of his grasp. We said our goodbyes, I thanked him for escorting me home and I watched as he walked back down the street before I went inside.

Friends. F-R-I-E-N-D-S.

At least he'd made himself clear and subtly let me down easy before I had chance to form any wrong ideas about what our relationship was or could be. It hurt and I would be lying if I said it didn't feel a bit like a stab in the heart, but I was glad that he'd put me in my place before I made a fool of myself by making a move.

I knew I'd been getting ahead of myself anyway. I knew he was way out of my league, but he'd called me gorgeous and walked me home. He'd even given me a nickname. Maybe I'm just easy to impress, but it felt like he was interested. I guess being a big star in Hollywood requires a certain level of charm though and he was probably just used to being naturally flirtatious with most of the women he encounters.

I sighed as I let myself into my apartment and tossed my bag on the table by the door. I'd felt like the luckiest girl in the world only moments earlier and now I was back to feeling like I was a romantic lost cause. I dragged myself through the motions of getting ready for bed and flopped down on top of the blankets - it was too hot to be under them and I didn't have the luxury of air conditioning.

Perhaps it was for the best that Chris declined my invitation to come upstairs, I thought to myself. This apartment was hardly up to Hollywood standards, it was hardly up to my own standards even if it was all that I could afford.

As my head laid on the pillow and my heart sat heavy in my chest, I told myself that it was fine. If Chris wanted to just be friends then I would be grateful that he even wanted that. I made a mental note to send him those pictures in the morning - because I'd promised to and not because I was curious to see what kind of response I would get when he was sober - and fell into a restless sleep filled with dreams of my new friend.

---

July 2016

And so, we were friends. Good friends, maybe even great friends.

I sent Chris the photos he’d asked for the day after we met and we spent most of that day messaging back and forth. Our friendship only grew from there and, whenever he was in town, we spent as much time together as we possibly could.

But we kept things very much friendly.

There was some flirtatious exchanges, but I respected his wishes and kept the feelings that I'd developed to myself.

My career really took off in the year after we met as well. That first Marvel photo shoot had gone incredibly well which led to several more contracts with them as well as other high profile jobs. It was a long, busy year, but I was grateful and relished in my success.

I'd even managed to move into a new apartment in a much nicer neighbourhood which felt like quite a big achievement and had finally silenced Chris' fretting about my safety. I moved in May, but our busy schedules kept him from seeing my upgraded home for himself until that summer, almost a year after we met. He was returning to L.A. from a trip home to Massachusetts and we hadn't seen each other in months so I was very eager for our reunion. Despite the fact that were still in constant communication, I'd missed him terribly and had been counting down the minutes until he would be arriving at my place.

"So," My friend's voiced echoed through my phone from where it sat on the bathroom counter while I finished curling my hair into beachy waves. "Are you going to finally make a move tonight?"

"No," I scoffed. "Of course not, Hannah. I've not seen him in a while now, I want us to have a good time. I don't want to make him uncomfortable and ruin everything."

"I will bet you a thousand dollars that it wouldn't ruin everything," she insisted. "Honestly, I will give you a thousand dollars if you make a move tonight and it goes badly."

I rolled my eyes as I finished the last curly wave and reached for my hairspray.

"You can't put a price on my friendship with Chris."

"Oh my god," she groaned. "He's told you that he thinks you're gorgeous, he makes time to hang out with you whenever he can and he texts you every single day. He treats you better than any boyfriend you've ever had. How can you think he doesn't have feelings for you?"

I took a moment to spray my hair and give myself one last look over before taking her off speaker and answering the question as I walked towards my kitchen.

"Because he straight up told me that he wants to be friends," I reminded her. "And he's never given me any other signs that he's interested in anything more."

"He doesn't need to give you any signs. When someone looks at you the way that he looks at you that says enough."

"Well, I'm going to need him to say a little more."

Another groan came through the phone as the buzzer to my apartment rang.

"You're impossible."

"I know, I know, and my lack of self-esteem will make me die alone," I said, repeating the words she'd told me a hundred times. "But he's here now, so you're going to have to save your criticisms for another time."

"Just tell him how you feel," she huffed. "I expect a full report in the morning."

The buzzer rang again as I agreed and said my goodbyes to my friend. I took a deep breath and a moment to push Hannah's words from my mind before pressing the button on the intercom.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Win, it's me! Let me up."

I pressed the button to unlock the door and felt my lips slide into a cheek aching grin just from the sound of his voice. It had been too long since we'd had a chance to hang out and I was very much looking forward to a nice evening together.

It took him barely a minute to get up to my apartment, knocking twice before letting himself in.

"Hey!" I grinned, rushing towards him as he held his arms open. I threw mine around him as soon as I was close enough and squeezed him tightly. "I missed you!"

"I missed you too," he smiled. "Nice place you got here, someone's doing well for themselves."

"Oh, please," I giggled, slipping out of his arms. "I've seen your house, Mr. Evans. This is a dump compared to where you live."

"Nah, this place is great!"

"It's definitely an improvement," I admitted as I led him towards the kitchen. "Would you like a drink? I bought that beer you like."

"You didn't have to do that. I would have been fine with whatever you have in," he chided me, but I waved him off and assured him it was fine. "What's the plan for tonight anyway?"

I shrugged as I opened the fridge to get a beer out for him and a bottle of wine for myself.

"I don't mind. Do you want to go out for drinks later or just stay here? It is a Saturday so everywhere around here will be packed with women in their early twenties if you'd like your ego stroked a bit."

I was referring to the last time we'd gone out and made the mistake of going to a bar that turned out to be pretty unfriendly to celebrities. A lot of places in L.A. made it easy for celebrities to go under the radar, but the place we'd gone to apparently wasn't one of them. There was a steady stream of beautiful young women trying their luck with Chris all night until we eventually fled and went back to his place just to give him some peace.

Chris laughed, clearly understanding what I was referencing, but he shook his head.

"Honestly? I'd prefer to stay in tonight," he admitted, but a smirk slid onto his face as he very obviously gave me a once over. "But you got all dressed up and it would be a shame to waste an outfit like that on a night in."

"Oh, this old thing?" I glanced down at the short black sundress I was wearing, a blush covering my cheeks from his compliment. "I just put this on in case we did decide to go out, but staying in sounds good to me. I'm well stocked with supplies."

I gestured to the wine and beer on the counter and the few bottles of hard liquor behind them.

"Then we'll stay in?"

"Sure," I nodded as a thought hit me and I gasped with excitement. "Oh, we can sit on my balcony! It over looks the park and I just got a new little couch for it."

"Very fancy," Chris laughed. "You really are doing well for yourself."

"Shut up," I rolled my eyes. "I don’t think Ikea patio furniture is a particularly high aspiration for anyone."

"Don't sell yourself short! You're finally getting recognition for your talent and that's worth celebrating."

I smiled as I led him through the living room and opened the door to my balcony with a flourish. The heat of July in California hit us immediately, but the balcony was shaded which made it a more reasonable temperature.

"This is nice," Chris nodded approvingly. "Well done, Winnie."

He sat on the couch and held his beer up towards me. I gently clinked my glass against it before sitting next to him. I thanked him once I was settled, hiding the width of my grin with my glass as I took a sip.

"So, how was Massachusetts?" I asked, curling my feet underneath me. "Do you have much more time off or are you back at it pretty quick?"

"I've actually got some time off," Chris informed me. "I think I'll probably spend most of it back home. It was great being there the last few weeks. It just feels better than L.A."

"Most places probably feel better than L.A.," I pointed out with a scoff. "This place is exhausting."

"You should come visit some time," Chris suggested before flashing me a smirk. "I feel bad leaving you here when I'm clearly your only friend."

"Excuse me, that is not true!" I protested, my jaw dropping at his insult as he chuckled at his own joke. "I have plenty of friends, thank you very much. All those liquor bottles on the counter are leftover from my very crowded house-warming party."

"Oh, no, Winnie," he laughed, his hand coming up to his chest. "Don't try and provide evidence that you have friends. That makes you seem even more pathetic."

"More pathetic than what? I have friends!"

"Imaginary ones don't count."

I couldn't help, but laugh at that insult as I shook my head.

"You're so rude. I don't know why I put up with you."

"Because you have no one else." He shot me a very over the top look of pity until I swatted his arm and he dissolved into laughter again. "Okay, okay, I'll stop. Seriously though, you should come out to Massachusetts sometime. I'll show you around."

"That would be fun," I agreed. "I'm pretty busy with work over the summer, but I think I'm in New York for a shoot in September. I could maybe tie a trip in with that if you're still out there."

"I should be if nothing else comes up," Chris nodded. "And fall is a great time to come. It's gorgeous."

"I bet. It would be nice to experience a season instead of just this sweltering L.A. heat all the time."

I made a face to emphasize my point as I sipped my drink and Chris eyed me suspiciously.

"I can't help, but get the impression that you're not loving it here at the moment..."

"I don't know," I shrugged. "Not really. I thought moving into a better apartment would help, but I'm just kinda tired of it, I guess."

"It can be draining here," he nodded. "Have you thought about moving somewhere else?"

I sighed and shook my head.

"Not really. I'd miss my family too much. I'd have to have a good reason, I think, or know someone wherever I was going."

"Well, you'll always know someone in Massachusetts," he smiled. "And my Ma would love you. I'm sure she'd take you in right away."

"Awe, Mama Evans. I'd love to meet her...Mostly so I could demand an apology for her part in raising such a horrible man."

Chris threw his head back with another chest grab worthy laugh.

"Oh man, I know. My brother is pretty awful."

I snorted a laugh at his comeback, but shook my head.

"Scott was delightful the few times I met him," I informed him. "I was clearly talking about you."

"Me?!" He gasped dramatically. "What are you talking about? I'm a total gentleman."

"Imaginary friends don't count," I repeated his words back to him in a very bad impression of his deep voice and Boston accent. "Yeah, you're such a gentleman."

"It's called a joke, Winnie," he teased. "Try having a sense of humour."

I stuck my tongue out at him in response, but I had to admit that the teasing was nice. I really had missed him while he was away and I was relieved that we fell back together so naturally that it was like we'd never been apart.

Our conversation continued to flow well into the night and so did our drinks. A few hours later and several alcoholic beverages down, the temperature was starting to drop a bit as the sun set, but our conversation was just starting to heat up.

"So," Chris turned to me with a smirk as he sipped the tequila sunrise I'd just made for him. He'd sworn he wouldn't like it, that it would be too sweet, but apparently he was too tipsy to really care. "How's your love life these days? Any more trips to Hooters?"

I snorted a laugh as I shook my head.

"I need more alcohol if we're going to delve into my love life."

Mostly because the biggest detriment to my romantic life was currently sitting on the couch with me, but I wasn't going to volunteer that information. Chris nudged the bottom of the glass in my hand, gently enough not to spill any but firmly enough to lift it slightly.

"Drink up then because I'm curious. Especially after a statement like that."

The irony of someone who was very vocal about how much they hated being constantly interrogated and harassed about their love life trying to do that exact thing to me wasn't lost on me, but I knew he'd keep pestering me until I opened up. I did as Chris suggested and took a large swig of my drink before answering him.

"No, there hasn't been any more dates at Hooters lately," I assured him. "But I did go on a date last week that was disappointing in it's own way."

Chris raised an eyebrow.

"Oh? How so?"

"He turned out to be a Robert Downey Jr. fanboy," I admitted, rolling my eyes as Chris let out a laugh. "It was going well until I made the mistake of mentioning that he's my uncle. He wouldn't shut up about him - stop laughing! - It was awful. Honestly, he went on and on! I eventually asked him if he'd rather be on a date with my uncle than me."

"And what did he say?"

I scowled at the memory.

"He said yes and asked for his number." That admission drew another howl of laughter from Chris and I couldn't help, but giggle along with him despite my shaking head. "Honestly, Chris, it's not funny. I have the worst luck."

"You have the worst taste in men." He corrected and I wondered briefly if he'd be less confident in that statement if he knew that he was my taste, even more so when he continued. "You're only interested in the douchey guys and then you're always shocked when they act like assholes."

"That is so not true!" I protested. "How am I supposed to know they're going to be douche bags? We talk for like two days on a dating app before we meet up and they always seem normal!"

"What was this one's job?"

I cringed and took another big swig of my drink.

"A club promoter."

"Exactly!" Chris groaned. "And hadn't the one before him quit his job to try and get famous on YouTube?"

"Instagram," I corrected. "But, so what? I struggled for a long time before my career went anywhere. You can't judge people by something like that."

"For the most part, I agree with you," Chris nodded. "But there are some careers that only attract a certain kind of person."

I huffed at his logic, but there was some truth to what he was saying.

"Dating is just hard these days," I insisted. "Besides, from what I've seen online lately, you're one to talk about messy relationships."

Now it was Chris' turn to take a gulp of the drink in his hand as he raised an eyebrow at my claim.

"Everything you read about me is bullshit, you know that. I haven't dated anyone lately, people just like to make things up."

"Oh, what I was reading the other day wasn't really about who you were dating."

That got his attention as he shot me a surprised look.

"What was it about then?"

"I thought it was all bullshit?" I smirked. "Does it matter what it was if it's not true?"

Chris shrugged.

"Even if it's not true, I like to know what people are saying about me."

"And you don't have a team to provide you with that information?"

"I do," he nodded. "But they don't tell me everything so I'd love to know what you read."

I swallowed hard, suddenly feeling shy about disclosing what I'd seen. I took a moment to figure out how to say it before telling him.

"I stumbled across an article that claimed an anonymous source, who recently spent the night with you, told them that you are not particularly skilled at going down on a woman."

Chris' jaw dropped and I couldn't help, but laugh again at the outrage on his face.

"That's fuckin' bullshit!" He protested. "Why would anyone believe an anonymous source? It's obviously not true! Why would they even write that?"

I smirked again as I tried to hold back the laughter bubbling up inside me. Of course, I didn't believe an anonymous source and I felt bad for Chris that mean rumours like that were being spread around the internet, but that didn't mean I wasn't going to tease him about it anyway.

"I don't know. She must have had some kind of proof, they wouldn't have published it without fact checking."

"They absolutely would!" Chris laughed incredulously. "They publish anything that gets clicks!"

I shrugged and tried to stifle the giggles still fighting to come out.

"It seemed pretty believable to me. I'm not trying to be mean, but maybe just take the criticism and use it to grow."

"I don't need to use it to grow!" He insisted. "I have plenty of skills in that area, I've never had any complaints."

"Until now."

"It's not true!"

"Unfortunately, I'll never know..."

I froze, hearing my words echo through my head as Chris' eyes widened in surprise for a brief moment before a twinkle appeared. It was a simple statement, but we both picked up on what it implied, especially with the hint of intrigue, almost challenge, in my voice.

Chris tossed back the last of his drink and then shifted, sitting up a bit straighter as the look of annoyance on his face had changed into something almost cocky. I took a sip of my own drink, hoping to drown the nerves that were bubbling in my stomach as the cool evening breeze suddenly did nothing to ease the heat that surrounded us.

"Well, how am I suppose to prove it to you?"

He moved his hand until it was resting on my knee and I had to stifle a gasp at the sensation. We were fairly affectionate and much more touchy with each other than many friends were, but this felt different. There was a tension between us now and I swallowed hard, not wanting the alcohol in my system to make me misinterpret anything.

"I don't know." I bit my lip as he stared me down, a smirk back on his face now. "Why don't you de-describe it?"

Demonstrate.

Demonstrate was the word that I was looking for, the word that was on the tip of my tongue.

Describe was not quite as flirtatious. It was like I'd just set him some kind of essay assignment. I cringed, but Chris was unfazed as he chuckled and nodded his head.

"Alright," he shrugged. "Where should I start?"

Before I even had time to answer, he began his explanation.

His voice was low as he spoke, sparing no detail. He described every kiss, every touch and every little tease. By the time he was describing how much he liked to watch whoever was he was pleasuring, looking up from where his face was buried to see her orgasm roll through her body, I was almost shamelessly panting. His hand was still on my leg, stroking higher and higher on my thigh and I felt more aroused from his words than I had from the last few sexual encounters that I'd had.

He was watching me when he finished speaking, a smirk on his face and his eyes narrowed in a seductive stare as I took a shaky breath.

It was now or never.

Tossing back the last of my drink, I put my glass on the table. Then, I took the glass in his hand and did the same.

He was watching me the whole time, meeting my eyes as I sat back on the couch. My mind was running a mile a minute as the gravity of the situation hit me, but I tried to push all thoughts of doubt from my head as I bit my bottom lip in anticipation. His eyes flicked down to watch the movement and that was all the confirmation I needed.

I darted forward fast enough that I wouldn't have time to change my mind and pressed my lips against his.

There was a brief moment when he froze. I felt his hand tense on my thigh and his body seemed more rigid than it had moments ago, but he recovered quickly and a low growl came from his throat before his hands moved to my waist and effortlessly lifted me into his lap.

I gasped at the movement, momentarily taking my lips away from his, but before I could even mumble out any comments on his strength, he'd pressed our lips together again.

It was a sloppy kiss. Spurred on by our mounting tension and the panic bubbling inside me that any minute now he would change his mind and push me away in disgust, our movements were frantic and desperate. My hands slid around his neck, one moving up to the back of his head as if I needed to hold him in place, but his fingers digging into my waist made me think that he was having the same thought.

Eventually though, the need for air forced us apart and I rested my forehead against his as we fought to catch our breath. The pause in our actions gave my brain time to catch up to my body and I immediately felt the nerves kick in.

Logically, I knew we should slow things down and talk about what this meant. My feelings for Chris went deeper than a drunken hook up and I was setting myself up for heartbreak if he wasn't on the same page. However, there was a more impulsive part of my brain that didn't care. I'd wanted this for so long, surely I deserved a chance to just enjoy it.

As if Chris could read my mind, his deep voice cut through my thoughts.

"Are we really doing this?"

I bit my lip, knowing this was the time to voice any concerns that I had, but as I stared into his eyes, I couldn't make myself jeopardize the moment.

"Yes," I nodded. "I'm in if you are?"

A smirk slid onto Chris' face as he nodded as well.

"I've been waiting almost a whole fuckin' year for this," he admitted. "I'm absolutely in."

I felt my heart flutter at his confession. If he'd been waiting for this as long as I had then that must have meant that we were on the same page. No one waits that long for a meaningless fuck, he would have made a move by now if there wasn't more to it.

In an effort to silence my overactive brain, I pressed my lips back against his which proved to be the perfect distraction. All worries and cares slipped from my mind as his tongue slipped back into my mouth and his hands drifted down to cup my ass. I could practically feel them burning through my thin dress and as they squeezed slightly, pressing my hips closer towards his, I could tell that my panties were already much damper than was probably reasonable.

But the anticipation was practically killing me.

My body felt like it was on fire as every brush of his tongue, every caress of my skin, every sigh that fell from his lips against my mouth, had me writing against him like a cat in heat. Often, when I'd imagined what this moment would be like, I'd assumed it would be slow - we'd take our time and savour every touch - but I hadn't factored in just how desperate we'd both be or how quickly I would be filled with the absolute need for there to be less layers of fabric between us.

Chris sucked in a deep breath as his lips moved from mine, sliding lower to kiss along my jaw. I could feel a bulge growing between us, telling me that he was as overeager as I was so, as shivers tingled down my spine from the trail his mouth was taking, I fought through the distractions to speak.

"Chris," I panted. "Let's go inside."

His lips paused their movement as he nuzzled into my neck.

"Not much of an exhibitionist?"

"Not on the first date."

My words were teasing and a shrug of my shoulders accompanied my response, earning a chuckle from Chris.

"Alright, that's fair."

I nudged his head away from my skin so I could press another soft kiss to his lips.

My intention was to then climb off of his lap and lead him into my apartment, but he had other ideas as his hands slid under my thighs and his grip tightened. With one smooth motion and an impressive show of strength, he stood from the couch and lifted me up with him. I gasped and rushed to wrap my legs around his waist for stability, but the smirk on his face and the bulge of his bicep told me that it probably wasn't necessary. He was incredibly strong and it sent another flush of arousal through me at the thought of the beautifully sculpted physique under his clothes.

"Are you bulking up for Cap again?"

I mumbled the words in an attempt to keep my mind busy and stop myself before I started rubbing myself against his stomach. With the way my legs were positioned there was merely a shirt and my panties between us and it was entirely too tempting.

"Nah, got a month or two before that starts again," he informed me, quirking an eyebrow. "Why do you ask?"

I pointed him towards the door of my bedroom before answering as I tried to keep the shock out of my voice.

"So, you're like, always this strong?"

Chris chuckled slightly as he kicked my bedroom door open.

"Well, I'm no club promoter," he teased. "But I do tend to stay at a certain level of fitness for when the job does require it."

My jaw dropped at his audacity to bring that up again at a moment like this, but I couldn't stop the snort of laughter that slipped out.

"Shut up," I demanded, letting my thumb stroke against the soft skin on the back of his neck. "Before I come to my senses and ask you to leave."

Now it was Chris' turn to laugh as he gently tossed me onto the bed before crawling over me like a lion stalking it's prey.

"C'mon," he smirked as he hovered over me. "I think we both know that the last thing you want me to do right now is leave."

With that, he pressed his lips back against mine before I had chance to argue. Not that I would have, because he was absolutely right. There was a long list of things I wanted him to do, but leaving was not one of them. In fact, as I let my arms slid over his toned shoulders, I pulled him even closer.

I couldn't get enough of him. I wanted to hear every little grunt and moan, I wanted to feel every inch of his body against mine, I wanted to see his muscles quiver and twitch with pleasure, I wanted him inside me and we'd barely even started. A year of waiting would make anyone desperate and, as much as I was revelling in his talented mouth as it moved against my own, I was eager to see what else he could do with it.

Sliding my hands down along his back, I ran them over his waist until they were at the hem of his shirt and, in an attempt to move things along, I slid them back up over his stomach, bringing his shirt with them. I paused, taking a moment to trace over his abs and he chuckled, moving his lips down to nuzzle them into my neck.

"That tickles," he mumbled against my skin as I smiled.

"Sorry, I'm just trying to wrap my head around the fact that these muscles are real."

"They are," he smiled up at me. "Are you impressed?"

"Maybe a little," I admitted with a smile of my own. "I'll be more impressed if you get these clothes out of the way and let me admire you properly."

He chuckled again, but didn't fight as I pulled his shirt over his head. The light in the room was dim and the way we were positioned didn't give me an optimal view, but what I could see was enough to draw a soft gasp from my lips.

I'd seen him shirtless and in even less from a few sneaky Google searches and watching his old movies, but seeing it all right in front of me was quite a treat. I had to double check that I wasn't drooling at the sight as I openly stared, my mouth slightly agape.

I realized I was probably ogling him a little too long when a faint blush covered his cheeks and he ducked his head back against my neck. He placed another soft kiss against my skin before he spoke.

"Now, it's your turn."

"Okay," I agreed, swallowing hard. "But just keep in mind that I don't look like that."

I ran my hands up and down his sides to emphasize what I was referring to and I felt more than heard him chuckle as he peered up at me once more.

"I'd be disappointed if we had the same upper body," he teased. "I mean, if I'm being honest."

I rolled my eyes despite the smile on my face.

"You know what I mean," I insisted. "I'm not sculpted by the Gods like you are."

His head fell back against my shoulder as he shook with laughter before shaking his head.

"You have nothing to worry about," he assured me. "You're too hard on yourself. You're fuckin' gorgeous."

His words took me back to the first night we met as the sincerity in his voice was the same as it had been back then. And there was something about the confidence with which he spoke that had me believing him.

So, as his hands slid under my dress - teasing the outside of my thighs in a way that had me biting my lip to force back a moan - I pushed any negative thoughts or doubts about myself from my mind. I even felt a hint of pride when my dress was discarded, exposing my lack of bra, and making Chris' eyes darken as they scoured over my body.

"Fuck, Winnie," he groaned as he soaked in the sight of my exposed chest. "You're beautiful."

I felt my heart flutter at the genuine awe in his voice and at his word choice. Gorgeous, hot, sexy - those are all compliments I would have loved to receive from him, but beautiful. It seemed deeper, more romantic. There was a brief reminder from the voice in my head that perhaps the importance of such a simple word was a signal I shouldn't be moving forward with this without having a very serious conversation about feelings first, but I was quick to ignore it as I pulled Chris back to my lips.

It seemed he was as desperate to move things along as I was though as his mouth didn't linger against mine for very long before it was trailing a path down my neck. He paused when he got to my chest, letting out a groan as he nuzzled the skin before sucking it just hard enough to leave a faint mark when he moved back. The sight had me squirming beneath him and he shot me a smirk before moving his lips to my nipple.

Gasping at the sensation, I arched up towards him as he continued to nip and tease me. If his current actions were anything to go by then whoever wrote the article that I read was very sorely mistaken. He appeared to be incredibly talented with his mouth and by the time he moved away from my nipple to continue his path down my body, my chest was heaving and I was sure that I was just one gentle touch away from my peak.

However, I was disappointed when he got to the top of my panties and, after licking along the skin of my lower stomach, pushed himself up and moved off of me to stand at the foot of my bed. I whined in protest, wanting him as close to me as possible, but all I got was a smirk in response.

"Patience," he mumbled as he unbuttoned his jeans.

I wanted to pout, to argue that I'd been patient enough in the last year, but any complaints died on my tongue as he pushed his jeans to the floor. As he stood in front of me, only in his underwear, my sense of urgency was replaced by an appreciation for the chance to admire his chiselled body. I propped myself up on my elbows to get a better view and he chuckled at the look of wonder that I was sure was on my face.

His underwear was the next thing to go and the anticipation turned quickly to shock as my jaw dropped at what he revealed. I could have assumed from the large bulge that he was quite well-endowed, but seeing it confirmed sent a whole new flush of arousal through me. I mumbled out a 'wow' as I bit my lip and tried to take it all in - he truly was a gorgeous man.

"Like what you see?"

His question snapped me out of my daze as he knelt back down on the end of the bed.

"Very much so," I nodded, desperate to feel his body over mine once again. "Come back up here."

"No," Chris grinned as he ducked down to place a kiss on my ankle. "Not yet."

Again, part of me wanted to argue and demand that he return his mouth to mine and get things moving, but before I could even open my mouth, he made his intentions clear - by tracing his fingers up my leg with his lips close behind.

I was quivering under his touch, still leaning up on my elbows when he reached the edge of the panties I was wearing. He glanced up at me as he licked along the lace before he bit into the material and tugged. I lifted my hips to ease his struggle as he yanked my panties down my legs with his teeth. The sight of it had me squeezing my thighs together, desperate for any kind of friction, but as soon as my underwear joined the rest of our clothes on the floor, he was quick to pull my legs apart again.

"Keep 'em open for me," he demanded, that damn smirk still firmly on his face. "I've got something to prove."

I giggled at that statement, but did as he asked. I was still watching his movements, until he dipped his head forehead and pressed his lips against me. That first moment of contact was enough to have my head flopping back against the pillows as my hands shot down to grip his hair. I was vaguely aware of him mumbling something about how wet I was, but my brain was too busy trying to process the pleasure he was giving me to take in his words.

He wasted no time demonstrating everything that he'd described to me earlier that night. His tongue was focused and precise in its movements and, contrary to what I read, he clearly knew what he was doing as he easily narrowed in on my clit. It wasn't enough though. I needed more pressure, more friction, and I pushed up towards him with a moan on my lips to urge him on. He wasn't having any of that as his hands looped under my thighs to settle on my hips, holding me in place, but he increased the pressure as he apparently understood what I needed despite my lack of ability to verbalize it.

I immediately felt a familiar feeling starting to build.

He sucked and licked with an urgency that I very much appreciated, flicking his tongue in just the right spot at just the right speed to have me trembling beneath him. I managed to gasp out a warning 'oh god' as my hands gripped his hair even tighter and I fell apart into a puddle of whimpers and moans. My orgasm hit me more fiercely than I'd imagined in my wildest fantasies of this moment and I arched up against him, his name pouring from my lips like a chant as he continued his efforts with a low groan of his own only adding to my pleasure.

As my breathing started to slow, Chris gently ceased his movements and moved his head back before resting his chin on my thigh. He cocked an eyebrow as he looked up at me.

"Well?"

"I'm going to write my own article," I told him, feeling that wonderful post peak bliss wash over me. "Because someone was obviously very misinformed."

Chris chuckled before pulling his hands from my hips to plant them on the bed and drag himself back over me.

"I'm glad I exceeded expectations."

"Mhmm," I hummed in agreement as his lips hovered above mine. "Now, let's see what else you can do."

Chris flashed me a smile and kissed me briefly before leaning back just enough to reach down and take his cock in his hand. Another moan fell from my lips as he rubbed it against me for a moment before nudging against my entrance and finally pressing inside. He moved slowly, but even so, I winced at the sensation. The slight burn as I stretched around him felt good but there was an undeniable ache as well. Sensing my hesitation, Chris paused and dropped his head for another soft kiss. I waited a moment, until the initial spark of discomfort had passed before pressing my hips up towards him.

He took the hint and continued his slow, almost torturous, movement until he was fully inside. The burning pain returned as it felt like he was taking up every inch of space I had to offer, but it felt incredible.

"Fuck," he breathed against my neck where his head had settled again. "You're tight..."

He shifted his hips pulling another gasp from my lips.

"Only because you're huge."

I felt a puff of laughter before he nipped at my shoulder.

"Thank you."

I would have smacked him for his cocky tone, but he moved then and suddenly my mind was blank of anything other than how good it felt. His movements were slow at first, every thrust dragging every inch of him against every nerve inside me, but his restraint quickly waned as his pace increased.

I let out a moan as my head fell back against the pillows and I hitched my leg higher on his hip. He moved his hand to the back of my thigh to hold it in place as he built a steady rhythm that had us both panting as I fought to match his thrusts. My fingers dug into his shoulders as his short beard rubbed against my skin.

The sensations were overwhelming. It was like he was completely encompassing me, smothering all of my senses and I could feel the pressure building again in the pit of my stomach in a way that it all felt like too much, but not enough all at the same time. I clenched around him, earning a groan of approval from Chris as I swore I could feel him twitch inside me. The pleasure was building quickly and his thrusts got sloppier and more frantic until suddenly he pulled out of me completely.

I felt empty and immediately wanted him back inside of me, my disappointment only growing as he pushed himself up to kneel back on his heels. The only compensation was how good he looked, muscles tight and his cock hard, practically throbbing and shiny from my being drenched in my wetness.

"Turn over," he instructed, his raspy voice bringing me back to the task at hand.

It took a moment for me to process his words, but I giggled as soon as I did.

"What?" He asked, a smile on his face.

"Nothing," I laughed again as I pushed myself up to do as he asked. "You just really are 'clearly' an ass man."

A look of realization crossed his face as he cringed slightly, his hand pausing from where he had reached down to stroke himself. I settled on my knees with my back to him as he answered.

"You heard about that?"

He was referring to the comments that he made on Anna Faris' podcast and I nodded my head.

"Everyone heard about that," I teased.

He chuckled, but didn't deny it as I leaned forward to rest on my hands. The wetness between my legs felt cool from the air in the room and I suddenly felt very exposed, knowing what the view must look like from his position. Again, my worries were brief though as his hands settled on my ass, kneading and squeezing as he let out a low groan.

"With an ass like this though, can you blame me?" He asked, sliding the fingers of one hand down towards the part of me that was practically throbbing with need. My head fell forward as he gently brushed over my clit before sinking two fingers inside me. It wasn't enough, not after the stretch of his cock, but he moved them with almost criminal precision against a spot that made me tense as I moaned with pleasure. "You've been drivin' me wild ever since that night we met. Those black jeans were so tight, it was like you were poured into 'em."

His words were muttered low and quiet and as much as I appreciated the compliment, I was such a puddle of mush from the movement of his fingers that I couldn't string together a sentence in response. He kept talking, whispering words of encouragement and adoration and it only added to my pleasure, but it wasn't until his thumb pressed against my clit that I felt myself start to bubble over. With a cry that I hoped served as a warning of my impending climax, I arched my back to press myself further towards him.

"Atta girl, Winnie..."

His breath was hot against the cheek of my ass and he continued his actions, placing a soft kiss on my skin. I was close, so close, but just not quite there until he did something that surprised me and sank his teeth into the spot his mouth was resting on. It wasn't enough to break the skin, but it was enough to leave a mark and it was definitely enough to send me over the edge. Moaning out his name again as I pressed back towards him, I felt myself quivering around his fingers as the pleasure tore through my body.

My elbows were quaking with effort as they tried to hold me up while he kept his fingers gently working until my orgasm came to an end. I wasn't sure how much more I could take, but I knew I wanted him inside me again so I shot him a look over my shoulder.

"Chris," I panted. "Fuck me, please."

His eyes darkened at my request, but he wasted no time, quickly shifting until he was positioned behind me and sliding himself back inside. He felt even bigger in our new position and his need was made clear as his hands settled on my hips to use them as leverage, thrusting into me at a much more frantic pace than he had before.

The stretch and feel of him deep inside me had me moaning and arching my back once again, but I was doubtful that I would reach another peak - until Chris slid one of his hands from my hip, over my stomach and back down to my clit. The sensation combined with his movements and all the noises pouring from his mouth had a tightness in my stomach forming again with shocking speed. It was just shy of overwhelming as my two previous orgasms had left me feeling rather sensitive already, but when Chris picked up the pace even more, his grunts and groans getting more desperate, I leaned into the sensation. It only took a minute or two more before he finally pressed himself deep inside me, stilling as he let out a low moan and I followed him over the edge once more.

After a few final thrusts through his release, Chris leaned forward to press his chest against my back. I could feel how hard he was breathing and soaked in the moment of bliss until my arms finally gave out underneath me. We landed in a heap face down on the bed, but Chris quickly rolled off of me before pulling me tight against his side.

"Wow," he breathed out. "Winnie, that was...wow."

I smiled as I rested my head on his chest.

"It was," I agreed. "I take back any doubts about your abilities."

He chuckled and placed a soft kiss on the top of my head.

"Thanks," he smiled as I peered up at him until he let a yawn slip out. "Mind if I stay here tonight?"

His question made my own smile widen even more.

"Of course not!"

He breathed out a sigh of relief at my words as I felt a wave of reassurance myself. He wanted to stay. He wasn't about to rush out the door the moment we were done and I filed that information away as more evidence that we were on the same page.

I felt like I should get up - to use the bathroom and offer my guest some water - but our activities had my whole body feeling like jelly. I was vaguely aware of a mumbled 'goodnight' from Chris, but I found myself drifting off to sleep before I could even respond.

The next morning as I slowly woke up, it took me a moment to remember why I was naked and why there was a pleasant, but very noticeable ache between my thighs. As the memory came back to me, a smile slid onto my face, but when I rolled over to find the bed empty, a flicker of worry sparked in the pit of my stomach. Especially when a glance at the clock told me that it was only seven in the morning. We couldn't have fallen asleep much before one so there was no good reason for him to be out of bed already.

I called out his name, hopeful that he would respond, but I wasn't entirely surprised when he didn't. The dread I was feeling intensified at the silence around me and I dragged myself out of bed with the intention of checking if he was in the bathroom or perhaps back out on the balcony. However, the sight of what was on the floor, or more accurately what wasn’t on the floor, made me pause. My dress and panties were laying where they'd been tossed, but his clothes were no where to be seen.

Trying to keep a level head, I quickly pulled on the oversized shirt that I usually slept in and ventured out of my bedroom, but my fears were quickly confirmed. My apartment was empty.

At first, I gave him the benefit of the doubt as I desperately tried to rationalize his disappearance. Maybe he woke up early and went out to get us breakfast and coffee? The dull throbbing in my head told me that I could certainly use a good shot of caffeine and it was a pretty safe bet that he was feeling the same. But, when he didn't return after half an hour, I assumed that theory was just an optimistic wish.

After forty-five minutes of sitting on my couch, watching the door - willing it to open and for Chris to appear - I sent him a text. I tried to keep it low key and chill, but after another hour of staring at my phone, the words "Hey, where'd you go?" started to seem more and more desperate.

By ten o'clock with no response and no sign of Chris returning, I accepted the situation for what it was.

He wasn't coming back.

It was a drunken mistake that he clearly regretted.

We'd risked our entire relationship for one night of wonderful, incredible, but meaningless sex and he didn't even have the guts to stick around long enough to talk to me about it.

One stupid night and I'd lost one of my best friends.

The thought brought tears to my eyes and, before I could stop myself, I was blubbering like a baby as I curled up on my couch. I was devastated and heartbroken. I'd let myself believe that maybe he wanted me the same way that I wanted him because we were so close and I never would have imagined that he would let it go that far just to ditch me in the morning without even a goodbye. Surely, after a year of such strong friendship, I deserved more than that.

But no matter how stupid and naive I felt in that moment, nothing would compare to the level of utter foolishness I felt later that day when I was tiding up and realized that there wasn't a condom in sight.

Part Two

Tags: @maggotzombie @moonlacebeam @mizzzpink @zaylaugh @flowery-mess @flowerjewels @njrronaldo7 @hockeychick10 @partypoison00 @theladybiers @sidepieces

#chris evans fanfiction #chris evans smut #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fic #chris evans one shot #once bitten/more hearts

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natromanxoff · 3 years

Text

Record Mirror (July 14, 1979): 119/?

THE QUEEN BACKLASH ENDS HERE

WITHOUT DOUBT Queen are among that elite number of bands universally hated by the rock press.

The rancour is, make no mistake, mutual which is understandable. If you find yourself on the receiving end of an inveterate dislike at the outset of your career and watch it being nurtured and carefully cultivated over the next six years you’re bound to retaliate.

Queen’s hatred manifests itself by their continued habit of ignoring the music press i.e. refusing to give interviews. There is the occasional token “chat”, pointless as it is innocuous, but in the main it amounts to a blanket “No.”

One of the last interviews Freddie Mercury gave was the last nail in the perspex coffin. Under a headline which boldly asked ‘Is This Man A Prat?’ the king of the leotards was demolished by one of the old school Queen haters and Freddie obviously came to the conclusion, in its wake, that interviews in future would be both superfluous (he was popular enough) and detrimental.

The curtain, velvet naturally, closed.

Roger Taylor, a little wary, a little weary, sits stiffly in an armchair. The juggernauts rattling the Chelsea Street outside create a sonorous buzz bomb hum in the room.

You expect a member of Queen to look elegant. In fact Roger is only wearing a wine colour mohair jacket, black shirt and blue jeans.

He apologises for being a little late and explains how he went to the wrong address. Roger seems to be the only member of Queen left who is prepared, albeit rarely, to open his mouth in the presence of a hack. A question springs to mind . . . why?

“We all sat around a table before I flew over from Munich to discuss the press situation and we agreed I should be the one to represent the band. Freddie is very uncompromising and refuses to have much to do with journalists.

“Obviously, he’s had a few raw deals with them in the past,” observes Taylor.

Roger himself has a rather low view of the music press.

“Most of it is rubbish. There was something I liked recently, a piece on Malcolm McLaren, but in the main I think I’m the only one of Queen to actually read the music papers.”

Why does he think the band are systemically slagged?

“I think it’s because Queen have always come across as being a rather confident band. We seemed, to other people at least, to be very sure of ourselves. I think the press may have misconstrued the confidence, mistaking it for a form of arrogance. Hence they became wary of our motives which bred a dislike for our music.”

Now that’s what I call a neat conclusion.

At the risk of being sent to Coventry by my colleagues I’d like, if I may, to come clean. I love Queen (you’re fired, Ed).

I think it all began with a simple pre-packed but indisposable line – “Dynamite with a laser beam” and has continued uninterrupted (despite the occasional flaw) right through to ‘Queen Live Killers’.

A combination of reasons, Freddie Mercury’s lascivious lisp – the most attractive intonation known to man . . . Brian May’s reel ‘em off rococo riffs that would, in his capable hands, transform the theme music for ‘Waggoners’ Walk’ into a meisterwork . . . John Deacon’s almost stoic stance, incongruous yet integral . . . Roger Taylor’s intense power, so unexpected from one so slight . . . the ability to go over the top without failing into the trap of caricature . . . a desire to give the punters what they want without pandering . . . that cast iron confidence . . . those nine glorious winter weeks of ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ which kept the cold away from my soul . . .

Yes, I love Queen.

Roger explains the story behind ‘Killers’ which features just about every Queen classic which ever found its way into a silk lined memory bank.

“We always knew that one day we would make a live album. I think it was well planned. About 90 per cent of our last European tour was recorded on a mobile unit and we then spent weeks sitting through the songs in the studio.

“The result is a 100 per cent LIVE album. Nothing has been touched up in the process of selection, I think that’s pretty rare these days. Many ‘live’ albums are tampered with.”

The choice of single is unusual – ‘Love Of My Life’. “It’s not so unusual when you hear the way it came out. The song seems to have such a wide appeal. Everywhere we go the reaction to it is the same. The audience are just bursting to sing along.”

The result is Queen’s best single since ‘Don’t Stop Me Now’ (that was their LAST one crawler, ED)

As I mentioned earlier the band are currently residing in Munich where they are “experimenting” in the studio.

“We are recording in a totally different way for us,” says Roger who speaks with a delicate London accent only typical of cockneys with dramatic training and David Essex.

“Every time we entered a studio in the past we had a good idea of what we were going to do. This time we started from scratch and the result is amazing. The music is nothing like anything we’ve done before, I guess you could say it’s much simpler.”

And this novel approach to their music also extends to their shows. On their next British tour – in the late Autumn – the band will be playing much smaller venues than they are accustomed to.

“In London for example we went to play to audiences of about two or three thousand in different areas. I think it’s much fairer to the fans.”

But won’t this affect their stage show which is after all a crucial factor for any powerpomp outfit?

“Not really. We will just scale down the show accordingly. Besides,” he says taking another bite out of the biscuit, “we haven’t used dry ice in years.”

The monkey on Queen’s back, as corpulent and cantankerous as ever, has been put there by those who firmly believe the band can never emulate past achievements. Roger is cognizant of its presence but refuses to unpeel its bananas.

“That all began after ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’. When it stayed at number one all those weeks we were kindly informed that we would never be able to make another single to rival it both artistically and from the point of view of sales.

“Yet ‘We Are The Champions’ sold a great deal more and has since become the biggest selling single in the entire history of Elektra Asylum – our label in the States.

“We don’t do the amazingly complex things any more because we’ve moved on from that. We concentrate on the music we are doing now and we intend to do it the best we can, it’s ridiculous looking behind and and what you’ve done.

“There’s nothing like going back on the road to re-unite the bond between the four personalities and strengthening our belief in the band. We are a real working unit and, in my experience of the music business, one of the most democratic bands around today.”

A statement like that cries out to be expounded.

“People think every member of all the bands, not naming any names, are treated equally that is get the same money as their colleagues. That’s rubbish. In many bands there are a couple of guys that get all the money. The rest are on wages. Queen share the profits equally.”

And they don’t have a manager taking his cut either, John Reid departed a couple of years back and now the band themselves make all the major policy decisions. Why did they decide to dispense with the services of a manager?

“Basically because we were fed up with giving other people money. Y’know it never ceases to amaze me how naive those guys are in bands who have just had their first hit. After all this time I’ve forgotten just how naive we must have been at the beginning.

“I mean, everything seems so great when you get into the charts for the first time. You’re living on cloud nine and nothing else matters. But in truth that hit means absolutely nothing. So few people achieve any amount of financial success in this business.

“Oh, you think, you’re really living . . . for a while. Somebody gets you a flat in Chelsea and it’s all free. But one day the rent stops being paid for you and you realise you’re skint.

“Since John Reid has gone the four of us have always made a point of discussing everything together. We have various people working for us but all the important decisions are made by us alone. That way we get freedom of choice – and financial independence.”

My attention is suddenly diverted.

“FORTY-LOVE!” Wimbledon, the Persil White opiate for the hoi polloi squashed in a strawberry crush wrings out its perspiring petticoats on the TV in the next room. Roger’s girlfriend, an extremely attractive French girl called Dominique, is engrossed. The couple have lived together for two years. Crippled old marriage questions permeate the air.

“I don’t believe in marriage,” says Roger. “It’s simply a contract and the fewer contracts I enter into the better. If you get on well with someone then there isn’t any harm in living with that person – but marriage is something else again.”

They live in a six bedroomed Victorian house just outside London, which is set in 20 acres. Roger has a “tiny” town house in Barnes as well. What’s it like having a bank full of money at the age of 29?

“I don’t hide away from life. Queen have never been one of those ‘being grabbed in the street’ type bands. It may happen when the four of us are together – but when we are out alone we are seldom bothered. That gives me the opportunity to enjoy myself. I go to clubs a lot. I like having a good time. I don’t think you could describe any of the band as leading sheltered lives.

“But I have completely lost touch with how much things cost. When you find yourself living in hotels for so long you never really deal in money as such. Everything is available whenever you want it – but you never see the cash actually being handed over.

“I’ve forgotten what it was like to be penniless which Queen were for years. I guess that must happen to many successful rock bands.”

Another thing that happens to many successful rock bands – they quit the country. But not Queen it appears.

“We have always based ourselves in England and I see no reason why we shouldn’t continue to do so. We could leave at any time but we choose to stay. People believe we are tax exiles because we spend a lot of the time out of the country recording in studios all over Europe and touring.”

And what will happen when the band finally trudge wearily down the road leading to that ivory strewn elephants’ graveyard . . . ?

“I know it’s bound to happen one day. I suppose I’d take a long, long holiday . . . and then make a solo album.”

#queen #queen band #roger taylor #dominique beyrand #freddie mercury #brian may #john deacon #record mirror #record mirror july 1979 #queen scans

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cecesunshine · 3 years

Note

Hi!

Could you please write 7 with Axel

Thank youuu ^^

Hi, here it is! I decided to take an sad turn to the story because I didn't know how to make this fluff lmao. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it!

MASTERLIST

UNFAIR | AXEL

Summary → Axel and Scholar discover that people can be unfair to each other, even when they both love each other.

Pairing → Axel x Scholar

Warnings → Allusion to cheating but no actual cheating + doesn’t have a happy ending

Word Count → 1495

Prompts used → 7. You never had a problem with it before.

A/N → English is not my first language, so I’m sorry if there are mistakes or if something doesn’t make sense!

No matter how long Axel and Scholar had been together, there was something that was always in the back of the couple’s mind. Distance. They had been together for nearly a year now but every time they were away from each other due to Axel’s schedule. He was always at the studio, touring or busy with something else, which affected his time with his significant other.

Scholar stared at their laptop’s clock, looking at the hour. 2 am. He was going to miss their weekly video call. They sighed, running their hands through their hair. The call was scheduled for 1 am. He promised that he was going to show up. They hadn’t really spoken to each other since the beginning of the winter break.

Feeling sleepy, Scholar closed their laptop and left it at the desk.

The only thing that was going to comfort them tonight was their bed.

The next days were filled with Scholar packing their things, ready to go back to Arlington after the winter break. Somehow their room didn’t seem like it was theirs anymore, which gave Scholar more motivation to pack their things. Besides all the pressure, Arlington felt more like a home than their childhood house.

Carrying their bags downstairs so they would be all set for tomorrow, Scholar saw their father sitting on the couch with a worried look on his face. He was watching some type of gossip program, which was odd.

“Since when do you like this type of show?” Scholar said, sitting next to their father.

“Jesus kiddo, don’t scare your old man like that.” He replied, putting his hand over his chest. “I was switching channels but saw this.” He pointed at the tv, which was playing a video of Axel on a loop. “Isn’t this your...uh...boyfriend?”

The video was of Axel with his hand over a girl’s shoulder. The girl in question being Gianna Portinari, a famous Italian model. According to the show’s host, the video was taken by a fan of the show who was on vacation in Italy and saw the “couple” walking through the streets of Milan in the early morning.

Scholar quickly connected the dots. There was a six-hour difference between their city and Italy. 2 am where they lived meant 7 am in Italy. Axel ditched them so he could hang out with a girl.

Scholar ran to their room, grabbed their phone and hit call. Nothing. They called seventeen times until they were finally tired of calling. It was going straight to voicemail.

The teen felt like throwing their phone across the room, but they knew it wasn’t worth it. They would also not have money to replace it.

The day they were desperately waiting for finally arrived. It was time to go back to Arlington. The flight had gone well, as Scholar slept during the entire trip. As they landed, anxiety started to grow on them, they would have to face their boyfriend and probably the end of their relationship.

At the airport, Scholar got in a taxi that would drive them to Arlington. Car drives aren’t as relaxing when your mind can’t stop creating scenarios of how your relationship will end.

After paying the driver and taking their bags from the taxi, Scholar found themselves in front of Arlington Academy, ready to start another semester. They spotted Claire and Raquel talking near the dorms and walked to them.

“Scholar! Nice to see you again! How was the break? Did you and your dad have fun?” Raquel said warming her friend into a tight hug.

“Yeah, we had some fun. The break was normal I guess, I had time to recharge batteries.” Scholar replied trying not to sound sad.

“We saw the thing about Axel.” Claire announced. “And we’re here for you if you need us.”

“Thanks girls.” Scholar thanked their friend, wanting to end the conversation there.

The cold wind of January made Scholar hold on tight to their coat. They said goodbye to their friends and walked to their room.

The room seemed empty, as they weren’t there for a month. Scholar opened their bags, ready to unpack their clothes and put things where they belonged.

As they were going to start to put their jackets in the clothes hangers in the wardrobe, someone knocked at the door.

Opening the door, Scholar was greeted by their boyfriend, who was holding a rose bouquet.

“Hi.” Axel said, ready to enter the room.

“No.” Scholar closed the door on his face, not wanting to deal with that in the moment.

“Oh come on! Don’t be like that, corazón!” He yelled from outside, knocking at the door again.

Scholar rolled their eyes. They knew how their boyfriend was and knew that they weren’t going to give up until they had want they wanted. Scholar opened the door again and motioned for him to come in.

“First of all, thank you for letting me in.” He said, earning a bored look from his lover. “And second, I bought you this.” He gave Scholar the bouquet, not receiving the energy he was expecting. “You look nice.”

“You’re not getting out of this with flowers and compliments, Axel.” Scholar said putting the bouquet in the desk.

“What did I do now?” Axel said, massaging his temple with his fingers. “It’s about me and Gia, right?”

“Gia? God, you even have a nickname for her.”

“Scholar, baby, Gia and I are just friends.” Axel walked to his partner, who stepped back. “And why are you acting like this all of a sudden?”

“Why? Because I’m the one dating you! I shouldn’t have to compete with your supermodel flings!” Scholar screamed, grabbing their phone and searching for photos of Axel with other people. “Look! If I search Axel the suggestions are either your songs or you with other girls and guys! Axel and Gianna Portinari, Axel and Taylor Covington, Axel and Rowan Harvey, Axel and Peyton Easterling...do you want me to go on?”

“I get it, I get it, I go out with a lot of celebrities, so what? I’m not even friends with them! It’s called a publicity stunt!” Axel yelled back. “You never had a problem with it before.”

“I didn’t, but now I have! You are always seen with someone new acting all lovey dovey and…” Scholar felt their eyes get watery. “and I get jealous. You ditched our last video-call.”

“Because I was busy! I have a career, Scholar! I’m sorry can’t dedicate all of my time to you!”

“Busy walking down the streets of Milan with a supermodel? Give me a break!” Tears fell down Scholar’s cheeks, exposing their vulnerability to their significant other.

“Scholar, come on. You know that I love you. And what does it matter if I spend time with other people? I don’t kiss them, I don’t even know their names sometimes! I’m a performer, I perform to the paparazzi.” Axel himself was starting to cry.

“It’s just hard. You’re never here. I’m competing for your attention with other people all the time and I keep losing. It’s unfair.” They confessed.

“Unfair? Scholar, I always come back to you.” Axel put his hands over Scholar’s shoulders. “You don’t need to compete with anyone, I’m yours. I’ve always been, since day one.”

“You’re mine when it’s convenient to you. You’re mine when you have the time.” Scholar pushed him away gently. “It’s tiring. I can’t keep pretending that you having dates with other people doesn’t affect me, even if are just publicity stunts.”

“I’m sorry. I’m going to stop, I promise.” The words escaped Axel’s mouth almost instantly. Even himself knew he was lying. He had no control over his public relationships.

“Don’t lie to me, please don’t lie to me.” Scholar whispered, their heart beating faster and faster every minute. “I think you should leave.”

“Corazón.” Axel tried to reach for his lover, who couldn’t even look him in the eyes.

“Leave. Just leave, Axel.” Scholar muttered, not wanting to deal with him or the situation.

Axel sighed, walking towards the door. As the door closed behind him, he knew that he had lost them. He wanted to scream at them, for not understanding his side but deep down he knew Scholar was right. Axel should have thought about they felt. That didn’t matter anymore, he had already lost Scholar. He had nothing to lose now.

Scholar fell to the ground as they realized what just had happened. They wanted to blame Axel for being selfish and prioritizing his career over his lover, but if they were in his place, they would do the same. He had much to lose.

Both of them could say that they were unfair to each other, but at the end of the day, we all make sacrifices, either for our careers or for our feelings and mental health. Unfairness is part of the world, neither Axel nor Scholar could run away from it.

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poorcinderelly · 3 years

Text

Perfectly Fine

Author: poorcinderelly

Rating: PG13 (language mostly)

Fandom: RPF

Pairing: Tom Holland/Reader

Disclaimer: This work is purely fiction and not-for-profit fan activity. It is not intended to infringe on any rights by and of the companies and/or individuals involved in the production of any series mentioned here.

Word Count: 3,491

Notes: Soooooo....I have never written an RPF fic before and especially not one that involves Tom Holland. I got inspired to write this after listening to Taylor Swift's song, Mr. Perfectly Fine on loop for the past few days. Fair warning, Tom is not really kind here. I mean, he's not the worst, but he's also not the greatest either. Part of me also really wants to do a part two to this, but I guess it will depend on how it's received and honestly, if I feel like it, lol.

Here's the AO3 link, too.

Enjoy!

It takes everything in me just to get up each day But it's wonderful to see that you're okay

You rolled over in bed and picked up your phone. It was almost 11:00am. You knew you had to get out of bed. Brush your teeth. Comb your hair. Eat something.

But your energy was gone. Everything felt so heavy.

The last communication was over a text message. Tom had asked when you were going to come by to get the rest of your things from his apartment. At first, you told him you weren't sure yet. He responded asking if he should just have them mailed to Jessica's, your best friend's place. You had been staying with her since the break-up.

You eventually told him that you would come to get them. But that was two weeks ago.

You opened your messages, a small part of you hoping to get a new one from him. But there was nothing.

You opened Twitter, mindlessly scrolling through, not really reading anything that was on your feed.

'Cause I hear he's got his arm 'round a brand-new girl I've been pickin' up my heart, he's been pickin' up her And I never got past what you put me through But it's wonderful to see that it never phased you

That was when you saw it. A video of Tom, with his new girlfriend. They were caught by paparazzi coming out of a restaurant. You watched as they held hands, making their way down the sidewalk. Tom was chatting them up as usual; it was something he did to try to make what's a typically stressful situation go as smooth as possible. It was something he did when he was out with you.

A lump swelled in your throat and you tried your best to blink back tears.

He seemed totally fine. It's like he has completely moved on, even though it had only been two weeks. You started seeing photos of him and her together shortly after you broke up. You thought it was odd that he had moved on so quickly, but you also suspected that he may have been talking to her for a while, even while you two were still together.

How wonderful.

That thought made the dam broke and you started to cry again. It felt like you had been crying non-stop since things ended. You were so tired of it. Jessica, being the best friend that she was, told you it was okay to cry and that it was okay to feel. "You've been through a shock," she said. "What Tom did caught you by surprise."

She was right of course, but it still hurt.

You closed Twitter and went back to your messages. You opened the thread you had with Tom and wrote the following:

I'll come pick my stuff up today.

You closed the app and rolled over, facing the window. The sun was out and you could see the leaves from the trees rustling in the breeze. It was a beautiful spring day.

Then you heard your phone ping. You reached over to the other side of the bed and picked it up.

Tom replied.

You took a breath and opened the message.

Okay. Just text when you're on the way.

You saw through that immediately. It was so obvious that he was trying to make sure she wouldn't be there when you came. "How considerate of you."

You didn't even bother to text him back.

You set your phone down on the table and even though it felt like it took all of your strength, you rolled out of bed.

"Time to get moving."

- * -* -* - * -* -* -* - * -* -* -* - * -* -* -* - * -

Mr. "Perfect face" Mr. "Here to stay" Mr. "Looked me in the eye and told me you would never go away" Everything was right Mr. "I've been waiting for you all my life" Mr. "Every single day until the end, I will be by your side"

You and Tom met at a red carpet event for a summer Hollywood blockbuster. He already had two Spider-Man movies under his belt by then, but you were an up-and-coming actress. You were aware of him and he was aware of your work, but you had never met or spoken to one another before. However, when you saw him outside the theater, it was like sparks went off. Despite being surrounded by the press and screaming fans, all you could see was him.

Once you both were inside the venue, he asked if he could find you at the party afterward. You said "yes," trying your best not to show how eager and excited you were. Once the movie was over, you made your way to the after-party. Walking in, you felt like you were in a fairytale; a princess trying to find her prince in the crowd.

Tom found you first; he made his way from the other side of the room and offered you a drink. You never left each other's side that night; you danced, ate, drank, and left to go back to his hotel together.

You hoped that the one-night stand would turn into something more and it did.

One month turned into six, then a year, and another year. Tom was everything you wanted in a person; kind, funny, smart, and attentive. Even though you both had extremely chaotic schedules, you both made it a rule to coordinate a FaceTime every night before you went to sleep, no matter where you were in the world.

It did not take long for the press to catch on about your relationship. Since your career was not as established as Tom's, having everyone in the world find out about you made you incredibly anxious. But Tom was supportive and patient; he was also a private person, which helped. He promised to protect you.

Tom was good for you and you thought you were good for him, too. He made you feel safe and loved. You had been waiting for a relationship like this one for a long, long time.

But that was when I got to know Mr. "Change of heart" Mr. "Leaves me all alone," I fall apart

You couldn't pinpoint when exactly things changed, but it occurred over the span of a few months.

Tom started to snap more during your FaceTimes. He assured you that it was stress from having to film three movies back to back. But you knew something was off; you just couldn't tell what it was. Not long after that, your FaceTimes were getting short. The same thing would happen: Tom would lose his patience, you would get defensive, a fight would happen, and both of you would hang up.

Tom barely answered your FaceTime calls after that fight. He would always say he was busy or tired, but you knew better.

And throughout this time, the anxiety kept building up. Every day, you asked yourself what you did to upset him and if there was a way to fix it. Your communication with Tom was mostly through text messages, and you were starting to notice that when you told him you loved him, he didn't say it back.

The first time you saw him after that was in November. It was the start of the holiday break for the both of you and you wanted to have a few weeks to yourselves before having to travel to see each other's families. You arrived at the apartment you both shared in New York. After you dropped your suitcases in the bedroom, you texted him asking if he was on his way.

Hours went by. He never responded.

You heard the doorknob click around nine-thirty that evening and Tom made his way inside. He tossed his keys on the counter and went into the kitchen, not saying a word. You could tell he was tired; you were tired too. You knew better than to do this, but the anxiety and frustration that had been building up for the past few weeks finally got released.

It resulted in the biggest fight you had. You asked why he didn't respond to your text; he snapped and asked why you were always breathing down his neck. You just wanted to know what was going on; why things have been distant between you both. But Tom just kept deflecting, saying that nothing was wrong. But your anxiety wouldn't let you believe it; something was different and you knew fighting wasn't going to solve the problem. But it just didn't stop; it quickly escalated to more screaming, more crying, and slamming doors.

Tom left the apartment that night; he left you sitting on the living room floor, crying. Right before he slammed the door, he said, "I need to get away from you right now."

Hours went by and you were waiting for him to come home.

He didn't.

You ended up sleeping on the couch.

Mr. "Never told me why" Mr. "Never had to see me cry" Mr. "Insincere apology so he doesn't look like the bad guy"

Tom returned the next day. You heard him come in around the early afternoon. He was wearing the same outfit he wore yesterday. You wanted to know where he was, but you didn't ask, afraid that it would set off another fight.

Your mind wandered to what he said the night before.

"You're always nagging on me."

"Why do you think something always has to be wrong?"

"You're so fucking crazy."

"I need to get away from you."

Tom saw that you were on the couch and came to the obvious conclusion that you slept there and had not moved. He crouched down in front of you and brushed some loose strands of your hair out of your face.

"I'm sorry."

You could not tell if his apology was genuine. It honestly felt like he was only apologizing just to apologize, not because he truly meant it. But you were so tired; you wanted this to be over.

So you accepted it.

Hello Mr. "Casually cruel"

Things did not get better after that. Typical small arguments turned into big ones and minor disagreements turned into personal attacks.

It amazed you how Tom had so many casually cruel comebacks for you in his arsenal. But you were not so innocent either; some of the things you said to him surprised you.

You started to not like who you have become; you were anxious all the time now and truthfully, you really did not like hurting him. You weren't sure if you could say the same about Tom, though.

One night in February, you were sitting out on the balcony, looking over the Manhattan skyline. You were sipping your tea and heard the sliding door to the balcony open. Tom sat in the chair next to you, running his hands through his hair.

"I think..." he sighed, "....I think we need to break up."

You knew it was coming, but you still were not fully prepared. Tears swelled in your eyes and you squeezed the mug like it was your lifeline.

"We just can't keep doing this, babes," said Tom. "I can't keep doing this."

In your head, you begged him to stop. You pleaded that it was not in fact over; that you just needed to talk things through. You could definitely work through this; it was just a rough patch. But you could not say the words - because a part of you knew that he was right.

You could not keep doing it either.

Both of you sat out there for a while, not saying a word. You still squeezed the tea mug, but the tears you were holding back were falling freely now.

It was over.

- * -* -* - * -* -* -* - * -* -* -* - * -* -* -* - * -

You found the energy to shower, blowdry your hair, and get changed into a white t-shirt, jeans, and green jacket. You grabbed your phone, wallet, and keys and tossed them in your handbag.

Jessica was in the kitchen eating a piece of toast. You saw how elated she was when she noticed that you showered and changed clothes. She offered to make you breakfast, but you refused.

"I'll just eat something when I come back."

"Oh!" Her eyes widened. "Where are you going?"

"I, uh...I'm going to Tom's...to get the rest of my things." You picked at the end of one of the drawstrings on your jacket.

"Will she be there?" Jessica asked.

You shook her head. "I don't think so."

Jessica nodded; you noticed that she looked a little relieved. "Well, do you want me to drive you? Just in case you see some paps along the way?"

"Oh. Them," you thought. It did not take long for the media to catch on that you two had broken up. It was partly why you had been hiding out at Jessica's for the past couple of weeks. As much as you wanted her to come with you, you knew this was something you needed to do yourself.

Jessica said she had to work tonight, but promised to come home straight after for a full report, which you laughed at. You said your goodbyes and made your way out of Jessica's building.

You breathed a sigh of relief when you saw that there were not any paps around. You hailed a taxi and gave the driver the address to Tom's apartment. Your old apartment.

You leaned back in the seat and pulled out your phone.

I'm on my way.

You tried not to think too much about it. If you thought about it, you would surely cry. That was the last thing you wanted to do.

The cab pulled up to the front of the building. You paid the fee and got out. You said your hello to Tony, the doorman (who was surprised to see you), and made your way through the lobby, up the elevator, and down the green carpet hall to your old unit. Room 4J

Your hands were shaking a little now, but you tried to brush it off. You turned it into a fist and lightly knocked on the door. It was just starting to hit you that this would be the last time you would set foot in this place, but you interrupted the thought.

"Damn it, you are NOT going to lose it!"

You heard movement from the other side of the door and the jiggle of the doorknob.

There was Tom.

He was wearing a black turtleneck, jeans, and socks. His chestnut hair was curly and he had what looked like a cup of tea in his hand.

"Come in."

He did not smile when he saw you; you were not expecting him to, but it stung a little.

You began to scan the apartment, trying to find anything that belonged to you. Then you heard Tom clear his throat.

"Uh...everything's in the guest bedroom," he said.

You looked at him, confused. Since when did he have a guest bedroom?

"We turned it into a spare bedroom after..." his voice trailed off near the end.

Their now guest room used to be your craft room. It had all of your paints, markers, fabrics, and colorful paper that you used to make gifts for friends, co-workers, and loved ones. Of course, all of that was packed up and in storage now.

You sighed a little and made your way down the hall to the guest room. You opened the door and saw a full bed, a dresser with a small television on it, and a bedside table with a lamp on it. In the space between the bed and the dresser was a single medium-sized cardboard box with your name written on it in big, black letters. The handwriting was Tom's.

You crouched down and opened the box. Inside was your favorite tea mug, a spare cell phone charger, some headphones, a scarf, and a paintbrush set you left behind. At the bottom of the box, was a small, red photo album.

You knew immediately what that was. You bit your lip and swallowed. "I'll open that another time," you thought.

You folded the box back up and tucked it under your arm as you got to your feet. You made your way back to the living area and saw Tom sitting on the couch, with his arms crossed. When he saw you enter the room, he got to his feet.

"Do you need help with that?" he asked.

You shook your head. "No," you answered, shortly, "I got it."

Tom let out a small sigh and followed you to the door. You wanted to get out of there. You could feel the dam was about to break. Just as your hand was about to twist the doorknob, you heard Tom's voice let out a small, "I'm sorry."

You bit your lip and lowered your head. "Don't do this! Not here!" you begged yourself. "You don't have to apologize, Tom," you said, surprised that you were even able to get that out of you. Your hand was still clenching the doorknob.

"Y/N, can we please talk?" Tom asked. "I just need to clear the air on a few things."

You could tell he was a little desperate for this. Part of you wondered if this was something he had planned all along. You knew you did not owe him anything, but part of you wanted to hear him out.

You turned around and set the box on top of the kitchen counter. You leaned against the counter, crossing your arms. "Do you want to sit down?" Tom offered. You shook your head. "No thanks."

And it's really such a shame It's such a shame 'Cause I was Miss "Here to stay" Now I'm Miss "Gonna be alright someday" And someday maybe you'll miss me But by then, you'll be Mr. "Too late"

So Tom stood too. He looked you in the eye the entire time he spoke, but he also twiddled his fingers.

"I'm sorry that we ended things the way we did. I'm sorry for the way I treated you, how I yelled at you and insulted you. No one should ever have to hear those words, and I know I should have treated you better. I'm truly sorry."

You swallowed the lump in your throat and bit the inside of your cheek. This was all you wanted - a genuine apology. Now that you finally got it, you weren't sure how to process it.

But you knew you better say something, too.

"I-I'm sorry, too. I'm sorry for how I treated you, too. I said some horrible things to you, too, and I wish I could take them back. I'm sorry."

The damn started to break now. A few small tears started to roll down your cheeks. You wiped them away with your sleeve, hoping it would hinder the rest.

There was so much more that you wanted to say to him, but you knew if you did, you would not be able to control yourself. Tom took a step closer to, with the intent to give you a hug. But you held your hand up to stop him, which he respected.

That was when you took a step closer to him, stood on your tiptoes, and kissed him on his cheek.

"Goodbye, Tom," you said, your voice cracking. "Thank you." "I wish you well."

You did not give him the time to speak. You quickly turned around, grabbed the box from the counter, and walked out the door.

You pushed through the doors of the building and walked out into the street. You got lucky again and immediately hailed a cab before saying goodbye to Tony.

On your ride home, you watched people pass on the sidewalk. The box was resting in your lap. The tears you had been working so hard to hold back were starting to fall. But you did not feel any tinge of sadness, anger, or any pain. The feeling in your chest was mostly bittersweet.

You accepted that that was probably the last time you were ever going to see Tom, and you were beginning to feel okay with that. You were also beginning to feel happy that he was fine. Despite the pain that the both of you endured, you truly just wanted to see him happy. And now you finally knew that he wants the same for you too.

You reached up and wiped away the tears that were still rolling down your cheeks. A part of you will always love Tom, but after today, you can finally take the steps to move on.

You know you will be perfectly fine too someday.

Goodbye Mr. "Perfectly fine" How's your heart after breakin' mine? Mr. "Always at the right place at the right time," baby Goodbye Mr. "Casually cruel" Mr. "Everything revolves around you" I've been Miss "Misery" for the last time And you're Mr. "Perfectly fine" You're perfectly fine

Click here to read Part II (Changing Minds)

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #taylor swift #mr. perfectly fine #mr perfectly fine #fic: perfectly fine #fandom: rpf #rpf: tom holland #ch: ofc #ch: reader

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royallyprincesslilly · 4 years

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Title: Kismet {7}

Henry Cavill x Famous OFC Aliya Taylor

Warning: Plot, Slow Burn, Mild Cursing

Words: 5.1k

Summary: Aliya is a singer turned model turned actress. Since she was fifteen, she’s been creating her empire in the entertainment world. As the daughter of a famous fashion model/designer and Hollywood director, you’d think life is easy for her, but her past has been anything but easy. Due to past trauma, she’s forever changed and no longer trusts any man that is not in her family and a select few in her team. She’s sworn off love and serious relationships and has planned never to fall again, but love isn’t something that can be planned. It just happens when it’s meant to. Can Aliya outrun a love that seems hellbent on holding tight to her, a love that is Kismet?

If you enjoyed this please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!! 😘

As always, thank you so much for reading. ❤️❤️

***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

***Interactive***

Previous Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 |

-Henry-

He tossed from his right.

“This has been fun. You seem like a really good person on top of being uber-talented. I wish you nothing but continued success in your career and life, but for anything here, I don’t think it’s going to happen,”

He turned to his left.

“I don’t do drama or messy, and your situation screams drama and mess.”

He rolled from his back.

“The bottom line is I’ve broken three rules already when it comes to you, and I will not break this one.”

He flipped to his stomach.

“Goodbye, Henry.”

That was always when he leaped up, sweating, panting, and wide awake. It was always the same time. Two in the morning and he always had the same feelings. Regret. Resentment. Emptiness. He hated those words when put together. Every night for the last two days, it was the same thing. He’d go about his business, work, fulfill his obligations, meet family and friends to catch up, all the while thinking he saw you at the most inopportune times. He remembered the first time he thought he saw you. He was having lunch with his brothers, their wives, girlfriends, and nephews. In the middle of his conversation, from clear across the restaurant, he thought he saw you. The woman didn’t even look a lot like you. The only thing you shared in resemblance was the complexion of your skin and your hair color. He knew then he’d lost his mind and was acting out of character.

Usually, if he were in this situation, he would have already moved on. He never dwelled on situations that didn’t serve a purpose for him. He was straightforward and preferred those he spent his time with to be the same. If a woman didn’t seem interested and went as far as to tell him goodbye at every chance she got, he would fade away. That is what he should do; instead, he continuously thought about you.

He went back and forth in his head about where you were getting your assumptions and why were you so quick to think the worst of him. It was apparent to deduce that you probably had a bad past experience with someone to have become so standoffish. There was no way someone would give off such conflicting vibes if they hadn’t been burned before.

If he didn’t imagine you throughout his day, he was dreaming of you coming up with words he should have or could have said when you were in front of him. When he thought to call you, he always turned against it. What was the point? You’d made your decision and come up with your assumptions on who he was. He wasn’t in the practice of pleading with women to give him a second chance or even a true first one.

By day three, he found himself ignoring his wounded pride and ego. By no means was it easy to do. In truth, it had been years since he’d ever felt this way—rejected. It was humbling. Since the years when his star had officially risen so far in the Hollywood stratosphere, every woman he’d ever either approached or been approached by never rejected him. In no way was he cocky enough to think women couldn’t reject him. He just thought he felt something and that something was mutual.

“Another beer?”

“Uh—no, a glass of water, please.”

“Tap, sparkling, flavored sparkling?”

Scoffing, he shrugged then said the first that that came to mind. “Sparkling lemon is fine. Thank you.”

The waitress nodded and walked back the way she came with his empty beer glass in hand. Today was necessary. It was long overdue. Glancing at his watch, he noted it was ten minutes past when he suggested the meetup. He also noted that he was annoyed with this lateness but not with yours. Groaning, he rubbed the back of his neck, trying to rub out the tension that rested there.

“Hey, honey.”

Snapping his eyes open, he saw Abby’s cheerfully smiling face. Her blonde hair was styled with bouncy curls that framed her blue-eyed face. She leaned closer as if she intended to kiss him, tilting his face to the side, her lips landed on his cheek.

“Oh,” Abby said, voice filled with disappointment.

“Sit, join me,” he said, hoping to distract from the slight he’d just shown her.

Abby sat on the stool across from him after placing her purse to hand on the side of it. When she leaned forward, his eyes dropped to her top's cleavage before they instantly came right back up to her face.

“How are you, babe?”

“Good.

“I missed you so much. You have no idea. There were so many things I wanted to tell you,” Abby began before he could start the conversation.

He listened and nodded along as she went on and on about the things that were going on in her life. She talked for so long that he was able to drink the entire glass of water the waitress brought over. When the waitress came back to take their orders, he had to step in.

“Uh, can you give us a few moments?”

“Sure.”

Abby’s eyebrows knitted, showing her confusion.

“I wanted to talk, Abby.”

“About what, Henners?”

Taking a deep breath, he slowly released it. “A while ago, we talked, and I thought it was clear where my head was when I said we need space and to distance ourselves from each other. I thought we both understood what that meant, but—I can see I wasn’t clear.”

He could see the worry in her eyes, and he hated to do this, but it had to be done. “I think you should move on…we both should. I didn’t mean to give the impression that there was hope for reconciliation or even that this would turn into a fling of some sort. I’m sorry for not being clear. However, I think I have to be crystal now. You have to stop calling and texting and allow yourself to move on.”

She didn’t speak for a full two minutes.

“Really?”

“Yes, I’m sorry. I just--.”

“—No, no, I get it. I really do. I--,” Abby stuttered without making any eye contact. She stood, reached for her purse, and schlepped it onto her shoulder.

“Abby, I’m--,” He began begore she cut him off.

“Don’t worry about it. You were clear before I just thought—guess I hoped if I showed you I was serious and willing to try that you’d come back.”

He felt like a world-class wanker. As he opened his mouth to say something, Abby held her hand up, smirked, and turned to walk out of the restaurant. Sighing, he made eye contact with the waitress and raised his hand for the check. One down, one more to go. By the time dinner rolled around, his FaceTime call with Francesca went a lot better. Though he could tell her defiance and reluctance to accept his wishes, she eventually did, eventually being the operative word. It took nearly twenty minutes.

As he sat with his glass of red wine and his pasta dinner with Kal at his feet with his bowl filled with his gourmet feast and a new bone for dessert, he noted everything was quiet. His home was silent, and his thoughts were even more so. It dawned on him then. This was the first time in three years he was absolutely free with no attachments to anyone. It was something that made him pause. His life was a busy one, and he’d seen the inside of a movie trailer more than he’d seen the inside of his own home. With him traveling so much, dating was hard and more a nuisance.

That was how Abby and Francesca came into the picture. He’d dated Francesca on and off for years before she ended things believing he didn’t want anything stable only to come back into the picture. Abby was a one-night thing that kept happening whenever he was home. Both required so little besides some attention here or there. It was probably what he gravitated to. It was low stress and a low chance of any emotional entanglement that he didn’t want--until he met you.

After dinner and a quick walk for Kal, he found himself in for the night with one thing on his mind. You.

“Bollocks! Just call her. Call her. It’s no big deal,” he said, trying to hype himself up.

Feeling brave, he quickly grabbed his phone and tapped your number in his contacts. By the time the first ring began, he’d changed his mind and promptly ended the call.

“You’re an idiot, mate!”

He knew he was in for another sleepless night.

~~~~~~~~~~

-Aliya-

Chewing your bottom lip, you stared at his name on your phone. It could have been seen as a little bit of divine intervention. For the last week, you’d gone back and forth, up and down, and around your decision to walk away from him and end things. Part of you knew it was the right thing to do. He was clearly tangled up in some sort of drama, some sort of playboy lifestyle that you didn’t want any part of. There were even times you felt like a hypocrite. You were dating two men at once. Yes, they both knew about each other, but still, it was technically the same thing. Your life was drama free because you worked hard to keep it that way, and that included exchanges between Jesse and Liam.

In the beginning, six months ago, you’d made it crystal clear to both of them that you didn’t want any serious commitments. You told them that your career, businesses, and workload kept you plenty busy and gave you enough headaches, and you expected none from them. You set out the rules; they followed them and kept the drama to themselves. Did they like each other? Maybe not. Did they like the idea of sharing you? Maybe not. Did you care? Eh, not really. You mainly entertained them when you had some free time and wanted to de-stress. As said before, you liked drama free.

“Why’re you staring so hard at your phone?”

Jumping, you tried to hide it, but you weren’t quick enough. Amaya was the one to grab it from you to see Henry’s name. The sound she made said she disapproved.

“Still can’t believe you did that man like that.”

Kissing your teeth, you snatched your device back and sat on one of the stools around the kitchen island.

“What else was I supposed to do? Join the equation and become part of a square?

“The only fun shapes are triangles because they equal threesomes,” Amaya began, making you and Alicia stare at her as if she’d lost her mind. “However, squares can be fun.”

“You’ve lost your mind. In no situation is three women duking it out for one man fun. A quick departure was the only move,” you defended.

“Honestly if, and I say if with hella contingencies, if, if, if he were actually sleeping with two other women, then yes, you did the right thing. There is no sharing unless it’s with another man for my attention,” Amaya announced.

“The problem is, though, we don’t know if he was sleeping with these women. You made an assumption, didn’t really allow him to explain,” Alicia countered.

“What! He had the entire discussion on the corner.”

“After you’d accused him of being a cheat and fuckboi? After you’d probably offended him by taking strikes on his character? There are plenty of things that are different between Americans and Brits. What was you asserting your position could be disrespect to them,” Alicia, the voice of reason, theorized.

You knew she was right on some level. You’d spent enough time in England to know the etiquette and social differences. From his cold demeanor, before you walked away, you knew you’d either injured his pride or pissed him off. Hell, both were very possible.

“Look, I’m not saying don’t stand up for yourself with letting someone know what you will or won’t accept. I’m saying maybe there was a better way. Maybe one that didn’t leave you second-guessing yourself and thinking about him.”

You hated when she saw right through you, hated when she was right, and hated even more when she called you out rather than letting you rock. Groaning, you shut your phone off and placed it face down, deciding to do what you did best—ignore everything.

You’d thought about him a lot over the last week, and within the last week, you’d come across more Henry Cavill content than you had in the entire year. There were InStyle interviews, promos, magazine articles, Instagram posts that were now on your feed because of one time you tapped on a picture to get a closer look. There were even YouTube videos of him reading thirsty tweets. Lord have mercy. He was everywhere, and the more you saw of him, the more you thought of him.

One thing you didn’t see regarding him were any tabloid pictures of him out and out with any woman. He was always pictured with family, his dog, friends, or by himself. That tidbit had you wondering if you’d been wrong about things. You hated second-guessing; it always left you in this weird hyper anxious state. You usually got a lot done when you were like this, but it left you exhausted.

“Have you thought of your two boyfriends as much as you’ve thought about this never was one?”

Why was she like this? She’d always been this way. She held nothing back, but where Alicia was the same, they differed in that Alicia had a way of being blunt but also being gentle. Amaya didn’t give a shit. She said what she meant with no care if the recipient felt offended.

“I’m gonna take your silence as a no. when was the last time you’ve actually spent any time with them? Bored?”

“I’m hungry, let’s eat,” you said, walking out of the kitchen making your way to the home cinema room. You knew how to flip a subject if you no longer wanted to talk about it.

The two of them followed behind you, then dropped into one of the large relaxing couches. Knowing you didn’t want to talk about it anymore, the two focused on figuring out a movie for tonight’s movie cinema. It had been weeks since the three of you had been able to do this, and it was long overdue.

Once you’d found something, the rest of the night was spent laughing, gossiping, being extra, eating and drinking while watching movie after movie. Thankfully the conversation remained off of you and on the two of them. Alicia spoke about her recent date while Amaya let you in on the status of her latest situationship. While the focus didn’t return to you and yours, your mind was sure focused on one thing. Henry.

Two days later, while you were locked in your office trying to make something of the mess of work before you, you got a notification from Instagram. Deciding you needed a break, you opened up the app and scrolled through your feed. After a minute or so, you came across a post on some gossip site. It was a picture of Henry’s smiling face with a caption that read, “Happy Birthday to Henry Cavill. This hunk of a man is celebrating a birthday today across the pond, and many women wish they could ring it in with him. From your fans on this side of the pond, Happy birthday!”

Your jaw dropped. It was Henry’s birthday.

“Is it really?”

That began a dive into the internet, which led you to the first site, IMDB. Sure enough, according to his fans, it was his birthday, May fifth.

“Wow.” Jumping back to Instagram, you typed his name in for a tag search and scrolled through the plethora of birthday wishes and fan page tributes. It was plain as day to see that his fans sure loved them some Henry Cavill. It was cute. After almost twenty minutes of scrolling, you began to debate if you should send him a birthday message. You wondered if it was appropriate.

“Is it appropriate to send a birthday wish to a man that wasn’t really yours to begin with but knew what your mouth tasted like?”

Closing your eyes for a few moments, you decided it wasn’t.

“Not appropriate, especially considering you were the one to end things. However, there was really nothing to end. We were never a we.”

Sitting in silence for another few minutes, you rolled your eyes.

“It is rude, though, if I don’t send something,” you finalized, admonishing the British etiquette coursing through your blood.

You dropped your head to the desk and groaned. This was ridiculous, you thought. It shouldn’t be this complicated.

“You’re making it complicated, dummy. Just send the message.”

Taking a few moments to gather your thoughts, you sat up again as if nothing had happened for the last fifteen minutes of indecisiveness and began your text. You typed a few beginnings and deleted them. You didn’t know how to begin. Did you just jump in and ignore the massive elephant in the room? Did you address the elephant but get right to the birthday wish? Your etiquette training said to address the elephant but in a ladylike manner then proceed to the birthday wish. That’s what you should have done. Your real-world girl living said to ignore that elephant and get right to it, then bury your head and see how he takes it.

MSG: It’s your birthday, well, according to IMDB and all your Cavillry fans. Did you know your fans call themselves the Cavillry? That’s pretty insane and hilarious. Anyway, I wanted to wish you a happy birthday. I know you never told me when it was but the wonders of the internet. Yes, I might have googled you. Anyway, I hope your birthday is filled with laughter, fun, happiness, and wonder because you just might deserve all three. Be safe and live like it’s your last.

Yeah, you ignored the fuck out of that elephant and took it to a whole other level. Full-on avoidance. As you looked over the message, you chewed your bottom lip, a nervous tick you never got rid of. When three or four minutes passed by with no response, your anxiousness picked up. That was when you slid it away and got back to work, determined not to obsesses over it.

~~~~~~~

-Henry-

Shocked could have summed up what he felt when he saw your message. Shocked and stunned silent. It happened at the weirdest time too. He was in the middle of a get together with his family for his birthday. With his Guinness in hand, he just happened to glance at his phone as he was going to snap a picture of something funny Simon was doing.

“What’s the matter with you?”

Shaking his head, he spun around to face Piers on his right. “Nothing. I’m good,” he lied.

“No, you’re not,” Simon said, coming up on his left to sit at the table. “Which one is it, Francesca or Abby?”

He rolled his eyes at Simon, not finding any humor in his words. His brothers laughed at him because they all knew the story there.

“You have the worst taste in women,” Nik began slapping him hard on his shoulder. “You either choose the ones who have ulterior motives hence Abby, or the ones who want different things than you, Francesca,” he finished.

“At least the women I get are beautiful,” he compensated quite pathetically. It was a horrible comeback, but it was all he had. He hated not having some sort of comeback when his brothers ganged up on him. It took him back to being a child.

“Francesca was beautiful, Abby—was adorable a little immature though,” Piers added with a shrug to the end.

He couldn’t deny that. “She was,” he said with a nod. “Very jealous too.”

“So, who was the message from?”

“No one.”

It was a blatant lie.

“Oh, it’s someone all right,” Piers called out.

He groaned, knowing they wouldn't let it go until he’d told them. Sighing, he gulped his beer before he began.

“Remember the woman I told you about?”

The three of them looked confused as if he'd never mentioned you before.

“The one who had your phone?”

“Yes. Turns out, she saw the messages for and from Abby and Francesca.”

They all looked confused again. “So what?”

Simon shook his head before he spoke. “He’s interested in her.”

“Who is this woman, anyway?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he replied to Nik’s curiosity. He wanted to keep some privacy, especially now that you’d decided he was some male gigolo.

“We went out on three dates. The second date goes well--.”

“—How well?”

He couldn’t help but smile at Simon’s inquiry. His memory was still fresh from what he was classifying as the best second date he’d ever had. When his chuckle broke through, his brothers’ interest piqued.

“Really well, I see,” Nik professed.

“Not like that. It was just a kiss, or three kisses, three incredible kisses. Anyway, she ignores me for a few days; then I see her in New York about a week ago. We had dinner with her friends, then breakfast the next day. Everything seemed fine, after she tells me that nothing is going to happen between us.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that. She said she saw the messages, and she doesn’t do drama or messy, and she thinks I’m juggling two women, and she has rules she’s broken and won’t break the drama rule,” he informed. As he said the words, his annoyance rose again.

“Woah. A lot going on there,” Simon began before he gulped his beer.

“What rules?”

“I don’t know. She said she wished me success in the future, but we were done,” he finished.

“To be fair, you are juggling two women. You and Francesca have this weird relationship where she wants more from you, but you’re not willing to give it to her, so she tries to see if it’s enough, and it’s not. That’s the back and forth,” Piers summed up. He finished his beer then continued. “With Abby, I don’t know your problem. You know you need to end it, but maybe the shag is too good.”

“Hey!”

Their laughter rang out again.

“Honestly, my world gets lonely, and it’s nice to have someone that wants you around instead of being all work,” he divulged.

“Even if you don’t feel anything for that someone?”

Simon hit the nail right on the head. Sighing, he shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I cut ties with them both.”

“Whatever,” Nik scoffed.

“I’m serious. It was last week. It was like breaking up with them all over again.” He shuddered, thinking back to the experience.

“So, they’re gone?”

“Gone and done,” he confirmed.

“And things with this woman?”

“I don’t know what to do. She doesn’t seem that interested. It seems as if she’s being friendly, but that’s it.”

“Did she kiss you back?”

Nodding to Piers, he replied. “She did.”

“Does she give you eye contact, or do you catch her watching you sometimes?”

It was an odd question, but he briefly thought it over before he answered Simon's inquiry.

“Yes.”

“She’s into you,” Piers, Simon, and Nik said in unison.

“Then why brush me off? She just seems—unattainable.”

“Be careful with those types of women,” Nik warned.

“I’ve heard nothing for a little over a week, and now she sends me this message.”

“Read it.”

Opening the message back up, he read your text to his curious brothers. As he read, he glanced at each of their faces trying to gauge what they were thinking. They each looked to be thinking different things, though. Once he finished, he looked at all of them.

“That was nice of her,” Simon expressed.

“Sounds like she’s being friendly,” Piers added.

“That’s good and well. What do I say?”

“Nothing.”

“No. Thanks,” Piers suggested conflicting with Nik’s advice.

“Thanks? That’s it?”

“That’s it. Guarantee it’ll drive her crazy.”

He looked between them again, and seeing them nodding together; he decided what the hell.

MSG Henry: Thanks.

“Good. Now forget her, and let’s get out of here to enjoy your birthday!”

Five minutes later, they were on their way to one of the city's exclusive gentlemen's clubs. While this establishment wasn’t a traditional strip club, there were women in cages and frames throughout the club. It was a popular location among Londoners and one he’d been to once or twice already.

Once they walked into the club through the VIP entrance, they were led to one of the private sections for celebrities. After almost ten minutes inside, he noticed the eyes on him, but he did his best to ignore it. It was his birthday, after all, and he intended to enjoy it to the fullest.

Fifteen minutes later, he’d had two more beers and was now surrounded by a few women who eagerly tried to gain his favor. They each talked about something different, making it difficult to focus on anyone. When one of the women pulled him up to dance, the other sandwiched him making him the prime meat between them all. When his brothers glanced over, they all released an uproar of cheers. It was absolute lunacy, and the longer he remained there, the crazier things became. Though he partied and enjoyed the night, you weren’t far from his mind.

By the time they staggered out of the club, the paps were there to catch the women's desperateness as they exited the club. Though they tried, he got into the taxi with only his brothers as his company. He wasn’t the kind of man to have a string of one night affairs. It was too reckless for him.

~~~~~~~~~

-Aliya-

Thanks. That’s what he chose to reply with thirty minutes from when I sent the message. Thanks. Not thank you, but thanks. Not I appreciate you taking the time. Thanks. Not you’re so sweet to think of me. Just thanks. It boiled your blood. You were confused by, annoyed with, and dissatisfied with the message. Couldn’t he have mustered up another reply? Anything. You tried to have work be enough, but you gave up an hour after receiving the message. Instead, you relieved your annoyance in the kitchen. When you were angry, you always had to chop things. You had no intention of cooking. You just wanted to chop.

Thanks to the near hour of your obsessing, you had Ziploc bags of diced onions, peppers, tomatoes, cucumbers, zucchinis, and carrots. You doubted you’d be able to go through it within the week, but that wasn’t the point. By the time one in the morning rolled around, you were still anxious and annoyed. You couldn’t believe this. You hadn’t had a reaction like this to someone in a long time—if ever.

That was when your phone rang. Grabbing it off of the nightstand, you saw Henry’s name illuminate the screen. Your nerves shot up like a rocket, and no matter how many deep breaths you took, they remained sky-high. After a few rings, you answered.

“Hello?”

A sigh echoed on the other end before Henry spoke. “I honestly didn’t think you were going to answer. I was hoping to leave a message.”

“Well, I answered. What message were you going to leave?”

The deepness of his voice sounded deeper from what you remembered, and it had goosebumps prickling your skin.

“One so you’d realize what you’re missing,” Henry replied. Your eyes bugged.

Did he really just say that? Your mouth gaped open as you wondered incredulously while sitting up in your bed to rest against the cushioned headboard.

“It’s dawned on me that you must think you’re not missing anything when it comes to me. So let me assure you you’re missing out on plenty.”

Pinching your lips, you tried to stifle your snicker. “Oh, really?”

“Really,” Henry confidently confirmed. The way he said it had your back straightening and any amusement quickly fading. The tone of his voice spoke to you, making your belly flutter.

“Like what?” It was barely above a whisper.

“You’re missing out on my kindness, my sensitivity. You’re missing out on flowers just because, surprise handwritten notes just to show I care. You’re missing out on romance women only dream about. You’re missing out on all the captivating intellectual conversations we could have about the stars, Rome, Greece, Egypt, and why we’re all descendants of black kings and queens. You’re missing out on someone being there for you unconditionally because they want to be because fate has led them to you. You’re missing out on lazy days of playing video games, eating pizza and drinking beer, missing out on a man who doesn’t care if you’re in sweatpants and messy hair, or all dolled up in makeup and heels. You’re missing out on me, my passion, my strength, my heart. You’re missing out on the chance never to cry again, missing out on the chance to feel more complete than you have ever felt in your life. You’re missing out on being able to stare in my eyes whenever you want, missing out on these hands to hold you, these lips to kiss you—missing out on us.”

If a gentle breeze somehow blew through your house right now, you’d be knocked off your bed. You were hanging on that little. You were so rattled you were speechless and actually physically shaking. The conviction and raw emotion in his voice was something that shook you to your core and left you raw, wanting, and on the verge of tears. The pounding of your heart was so loud that it was all you could here for a few moments. Trying to use your breathing to slow it you realized it was impossible.

“Are you—drunk?”

“I’ve had a lot to drink, yes, but I’ve never been more clear-headed in my life. You're not only missing out, but you’re also making me miss out on all of that as well. Goodbye, Aliya.”

Your phone beeped, signaling the end of the call. You sat there speechless, motionless, rattled to the bone, and completely wrecked.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

***If you want to be tagged please SEND AN ASK SO IT WILL BE EASIER FOR ME TO KEEP TRACK OF. Thank you for reading!!!***

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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#kismet fic #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x black reader #angst fanfic #black fanfiction #slow burn fanfic

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maria-eve-falcon · 3 years

Text

forbidden love au mature

alternate universe: taylor and karlie are dating and joe is taylor’s beard . what happens when she falls for her employee? placed pre lover. idk where kar was living at that point so I’ll say Miami. full fiction

it’s raining in London as usual. Taylor could not get enough of this. but she misses her date left in Miami with that jerk. and she is with another well jerk. Jerk would be too harsh though. after all, he is a good friend. even though she misses Kar a lot, she can’t call her. at least not now.

-a day ago-

why on earth would you want to do that?

because I want to be with you!? I can’t do this anymore love! I just can’t! I can’t stay away from you and leave you with that jerk ! you should be with me! in London!

but I can’t! yk why!

that;s why I want to do this!. fuck my career ! it’s built enough . Iam out of everything we were scared about! and I just.. we.. I will come out now. for US

no! don’t do that!

why not? we can run away then! fuck my career. no matter how much my fans care in the end every one gets home . and I don’t. giving everyone what they want.. I get nothing at all.

why?

because I don’t have YOU!. you are my home! my one and only!

look taylor. we can’t

IDON’T SEE WHY!

your career-

idgaf! like I said before IDGAF!

yeah, but I do. you came soo far

KAR! and that is why idgaf cause I have come far enough and now id need anything but you my love! I retire!

nononono, what! NO! YOU CN’T bye.

but-

karlie cuts the phone.

-at this moment-

sorry

what? why?

I heard you guys had a fight.

you what?

I- sorry. I needed to tell you that .

that you were eves dropping?

kinda. sorry. I should not have

look joe. ik this all is confusing

it isn’t

don’t cut me short!

ok sorry

urgh! stop saying sorry...

oh ok.

look mr .. I mean look joe. ik you are my employee and you are well one my friends who know this shit and I am very glad sometimes thatt I have you but EVEN BEING THE ONE MOST INVESTED IN THIS SHIT YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO DO WHAT YOU DID!

right , I am sorry, I really truly am.

oh, so you actually are?

if I wasn’t why would I tell you that in the first place? you would have never known that Ik , right?

well.. that’s true

she glances out side the window and sighs. what a romantic weather and..

umm taylor

yeah

do you mind ? he proceeds to close the window curtains. half naked.

taylor frowns .

do we have to go out? now?

umm no. It’s just me. I need to get somethings.

but it’s raining! like pouring joe!

umm don’t worry . he shivers a bit . well he is still only in his pants so.

umm ok.

he does look nice though. she thinks . as he takes his pants off.

why is he doing this in front of me though? she thinks. forgetting she is in his room since he asked to talk to her. he is facing his back though

a smile appears on her face. he is still struggling to get his pants on. also note be pointed he’s blushing like crazy and trying super hard to hide it from his employer/friend

why is he like this? she thinks. why can’t he just ask me to leave his room? even though she finds it very cute. the way he is. a bit shy and awkward at times. and weird. very very weird.

he is very in the corner though. after all why would he literally do such thing in front of tay. he was in the corner beside the bed trying his best not to be seen.

joe.

being called he stops. umm yeah? still blushing.

you don’t have to go out. make a list . my staff would do.

but I like doing my job. he lies

well as he knows they are in a contract, so she is nothing to him and nor is he. so why would he get used to this? why? why would she even ask to help? no point at all. a single man to do his job at his best. he doesn’t need her help!

yes he does find himself in situations like this. cause showing the world he is hers and she is his and then at home behaving polar opposite is, difficult. like yeah, he is acting in a way, but it’s just not as same as acting. acting for 3 years, well more than 3 , is, well, tough.

you just don’t have to joe!

but ...I want to! he whines . he really needs some air. some where outside where he can forget about every shit. well he doesn’t mind. but he does sometimes. guess he is only human.

nope. this is an order Joseph. guess some one is your boss!

most of the times like this he would whine more or get angry. but he figured she needed a friend. so he’ll stay as decided now.

ok. he moves from his spot. puts his home shorts on . trying to get the shirt from the other side of the bed taylor is in front of him. he really doesn’t know how to tell her to leave his room.

what’s wrong with me? he thinks. what the actual hell is wrong with this situation? never been this awkward!

well he only can guess if she has ever been this close.

they both can feel their breaths as tay moves closer. uncomfortable. but both of them have 0 signs of minding it.

ok,wth! they both think. but no signs of stopping there cause their noses are already touching. joe’s lips shivers as the gravities too much for them to take. they kiss. soft. as if feathers touching each other. so wrong, but soo right! their minds were put at ease , fully empty and blank. can’t think a single thing as their hands start moving.

she puts hers on his biceps, his on her waist. both of them. as he fiddles with her waist, she realizes he has long hands.

pretty. she thinks.

the kissing which ended up in a makeout session came to an end as he bit her lower lip!

shocked, her eyes go wide. she can’t help but think where this side of him lives in!? she lets him in though. cause she wants it. god knows why but she has waited too much for someone whom she would ruin her fucking career for. a bit playing might not hurt. anyways, she also doesn’t know if kar doesn’t get sneeky at times!

well even if she did or did not she could not care less. or more. she just can’t think anymore or who knows? maybe she just does not want to. maybe for once she just wants to go with flow with out worrying. what ever her heart wants.

joe.

hmm? he hums still exploring her mouth.

I want you to

hn?

I want you to fuck me! she says at once.

sure? his asks wide eyed.

yes yes yes!

remember , you asked for it!

she giggles at his words as he proceeds to take her shirt off. button up. all of them undone now though. her belt is off as soon as he takes her up holding her arse. her long legs now hugged around his torso.

he gently lies her on the bed.

his bed. he thinks. oh how many times he had dreams about this. why? god knows the best.

her black mini skirt is down, long gone is her white button up shirt which was tugged in her skirt. black lacey undergarments.

shit. he says as he studies her.

what? you like it?

well yes.

good

I hope you will like this though. he thinks.

as he puts her bra off. shakily. he touches her skin. her bare skin. she shivers under his touch. weird feelings stir up her insides. she can’t figure what’s wrong, but she can’t think either. cause he is fast. he already took her panties off. ok the knot inside her needs friction. he touches down her thighs making her whimper. she needs it. now! she tried to put her thighs together and he spreads them. wide . and keeps teasing her. god he wanted to do this for a long time.

she just can’t take this anymore. joe! she moans as he puts a finger inside her. god she needed this.

like it?

yes!

he doesn’t wait anymore . 2 more fingers are inside her. she moans louder as thunder strikes somewhere outside. he keeps fingering her hard and fast. her moans get loud and fast with every trust. and then she feels something else. her pussy is wet, but it’s something else. his tongue moves fast inside her.

shit! he IS eating me out! she thinks and god she can’t keep her screams anymore.

he uses his nose now, the tip of it, right upon her core.

god! she screams. he is fingering her AND eating her AND then there is his fucking long nose.

JOE! she screams as she comes. all in his mouth. he sucks up her juices and comes up to kiss her, holding her torso, he kisses her. her taste, all in his mouth. all she can taste is herself. he is all over her. and she knows he is hard

#there will be a part two #mature #taylorx joe #kaylor #weird fanfic #mature fanfics #smut #my creative writing #smutty fic #fanfiction #taylor swift #au #swiftwyn #jaylor #2nd one is published #the same tag my creative writing if you are keen to see it #my creative writings #3rd chapter is here!

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nerdzzone · 3 years

Text

-More Hearts Than Mine-

Summary: Raising a child is hard. Raising a child with one of Hollywood’s biggest stars is even harder. And raising a child with one of Hollywood’s biggest stars who you’re not actually in a relationship with is even harder still.

Especially when a global pandemic is sweeping the world.

With lockdowns and stay at home orders looming on the horizon, the uncertainty of their situation becomes almost too much for Whitney Taylor to handle. Chris suggests that they quarantine together to avoid any potential separations but, given what happened the last time they spent more than a few brief moments in each other’s company, that could cause more problems than it solves…

Chris Evans x OFC

Sequel to: Once Bitten - Twice Shy

Note: I’ve decided to make this five parts instead of four. I was originally going to combine this part and the next one, but I feel like it flows better with a bit of separation between them!

Part One

____

Part Two

The rest of our first afternoon together was spent lazing around. Grayson was tired, but continued to refuse his nap so we kept things low key to avoid any exhausted toddler meltdowns. By the time the evening rolled around, I was tired from the stress of the day myself and since I still had to unpack, I went up to my bedroom shortly after we'd tucked Grayson into bed.

I slept a lot better than I thought I would given everything that was on my mind and when I woke up, I could already hear the sounds of breakfast echoing up from the kitchen. Taking a few minutes to let myself wake up properly, I checked my phone and scrolled through social media before getting up, stretching and heading downstairs.

"Good morning," I smiled, finding Chris and Grayson sitting at the island eating some scrambled eggs while Scott leaned against the counter with a cereal bowl in his hands.

"G'morning, Mama!"

Grayson's greeting was said through a mouthful of food and Chris reminded him that wasn't polite before greeting me himself.

"Help yourself to whatever you want," he insisted. "There's some eggs left in the pan or cereal, whatever you can find. Maybe Grayson will even share his apple slices with you if you ask nicely."

Grayson gasped at that suggestion and frantically shook his head.

"No, Daddy!" He protested. "I don't want to share!"

I laughed as he reached over his plate to move the little bowl of sliced fruit closer to his body where he could keep it guarded.

"Not even one slice?" I asked. "But I'm so hungry!"

"Over there!" Grayson giggled, pointing at the counter.

I turned around and saw a few more apples in a bowl, making me smile as I turned back to the boys.

"But they're not nicely sliced like yours," I pointed out. "How can I eat those?"

Grayson shrugged and plucked one of his apples out of his bowl. He looked smug, thinking he'd won, but he was so distracted while he took a bite that he didn't see Chris' hand sneak over until he'd snatched one of the slices and tossed it to me.

"Catch!"

I did as Chris instructed and Grayson's jaw dropped. An indignant huff fell from his lips as he looked between the two of us.

"That's not nice."

Chris laughed, but I bit back a smile and returned his apple.

"You're right, baby," I agreed, kissing the top of your head. "That was mean, but we were just tricking you. You don't have to share your apple."

"Thanks, Mama."

The frown on his face turned back into a grin and I scraped the rest of the eggs that were in the pan on the stove onto a plate before turning back to the boys once I’d pulled a fork from the drawer.

"So, how do you want to work it with things like groceries while I'm here?"

"Just tell me what you want and I'll order it," Chris told me. "They've started doing curbside pick up pretty much everywhere so I was thinking I'd just do that."

"Oh, that's handy, but I meant like money wise. Should I just transfer you my share or do you want to alternate who pays?"

Chris stared at me for a moment as if he was trying to figure out if I was joking before he chuckled.

"I'm not taking any money from you, Whitney."

His voice was firm, but I furrowed my brow in confusion.

"What? Why not? I can't let you pay for everything."

"You're not still working, are you?" Scott asked. "Or is it different since, as a photographer, you're so far away from whoever you're taking pictures of?"

"I'm not working," I admitted. "I think it would be doable if it was, like, family portraits or something like that, but the big photo shoots involve too many people. Everyone cancelled on me last week or delayed my contracts until at least the summer."

"So, don't worry about paying for anything then," Chris shrugged. "It's not like you're going to eat that much, I think I can handle the cost."

He was trying to do a nice thing. He was a very generous person with those that he cared about, but I wasn't going to take advantage of him.

"I have savings, Chris," I insisted. "I'm not completely helpless."

As if sensing a rising tension, Scott put his bowl in the sink and grabbed his coffee mug before turning to Grayson.

"Hey, Gray, let's go see what cartoons we can find."

Grayson nodded eagerly and Chris helped him down from the tall stool so he could follow Scott out of the room, taking his little bowl of apples with him.

"I wasn't trying to imply that you're helpless," Chris assured me once they were out of earshot. "But you're tiny, I don't think that buying you a few groceries for the next couple of months will financially cripple me."

I tried to temper my defensiveness before I answered him, reminding myself again that he was trying to be helpful.

"I know that, but I don't feel comfortable living here for that long without contributing," I told him. "You already give me more than you need to every month for Grayson."

It was true. Since our custody agreement was that Grayson spent fifty percent of his time with each of us, he wasn't required to pay me any child support. But he did anyway. It was something we’d argued about on and off over the years because the amount that he gave me was way over the top. I appreciated his generosity and I did use all the money to buy things for Gray, but most of it ended up in a bank account that I'd opened for him because there was no way to spend it all in one month without Grayson becoming the most spoiled child in all of Massachusetts.

"I like to make sure he's taken care of."

"Which I am capable of doing with my own money when he's in my care," I reminded him. "But I don't want to start that whole conversation again. I just want to feel like I'm doing my part while I stay with you."

"And I appreciate that gesture, but it won't be necessary," Chris insisted. "You can clean, you can cook, do anything like that to help out, but I won't accept any money, especially while you're not working."

I sighed as he stood up to put his plate in the dishwasher while I put mine on the counter, too distracted by our conversation to eat. I knew it would be a struggle to get him to agree to take money from me, but I wasn't ready to back down so I thought of a compromise and hoped he would accept.

"How about we drop it for now," I suggested. "But if this thing goes on for more than a couple of weeks, can we talk about it again?"

Chris paused and crossed his arms. I could tell that he wanted to argue, but I was relieved when he agreed.

"Alright," he nodded, hesitating for a moment before adding a stipulation to the deal. "But we're going to talk about your car too before you leave here."

"My car? What about my car?"

"Grayson told me that it's not working properly," Chris admitted. "He said it sounds angry sometimes and that you haven't gotten it checked out yet."

I rolled my eyes, guessing that was one of those 'secrets' that he mentioned.

"It's fine," I assured him. "It made a weird sound one time last week when I tried to start it, but it's still working. I was going to take it in, but then all this virus stuff happened and I didn't have chance."

"You need a new one," Chris informed me. "That one is getting old anyway. I'll take you car shopping when things reopen."

I laughed at the absurdity of that statement, but I could see the annoyance on his face at my reaction.

"You're not buying me a car, Chris. The one I have is perfectly fine and if it's not then I will take myself car shopping, thank you very much."

"Why do you get so defensive when I try to help you?" He asked, his eyes shifting into a glare. "I'm not going to accidentally think that you're in love with me just because you accept a nice gesture from me. I can take a hint, Whitney, I get it."

My jaw dropped and I couldn't hold back a disgruntled scoff at his insane change of topic.

"What are you even talking about? This has nothing to do with that," I argued. "I wouldn’t have accepted your invitation if I knew you were going to hold that over me and throw it in my face all the time."

“All the time? This is the first time I’ve mentioned it!”

“Yes, but I’ve not even been here for twenty-fours hours and you’ve already brought it up!”

Perhaps it was my harsh, snappy tone that did it or my very valid criticism of his low blow, but Chris' body language softened.

"I just don't get why you get so worked up when I'm trying to help you..."

"Because I don't need help, Chris," I explained. "I might not be Captain America rich, but I do just fine and I can take care of myself. I can buy my own groceries and if I really needed to, I could buy myself a new car. You throwing money at me for things like that makes me feel like you don't value the success I've had in my career or my ability to manage my finances which is, quite frankly, offensive."

Chris dropped his arms so they were no longer crossed and his shoulders relaxed. Clearly, he'd been getting quite defensive as well and had realized it, whether he would admit it or not. I held my head high, proud of myself for explaining my feelings so well and taking him down a notch, but that feeling disappeared as soon as Chris spoke.

"If you were the richest woman in the world, I would still want to buy you a car," Chris started, looking more nervous than the dismissive, self-assured attitude I was getting moments ago. "I'd still want to buy you anything you could ever need because making you happy makes me happy."

My face fell at his confession and my heart clenched again, knowing what the underlying sentiment behind his statement was. It stung more than any hurtful words could have as the sincerity, the genuine care and appreciation, in his voice was heartbreaking. I regretted not adding a condition to our cohabitation that specified he wasn't allowed to say such nice, guilt inducing things as I stared at him for a moment, trying to think of a way to get out of this conversation that was more polite than just bolting out the door.

Too much time was passing as his words hung between us so, short of any good comeback to his words, I shrugged.

"If you want to make me happy, let me contribute for the groceries."

It was Chris' turn to look shocked now, as he was obviously expecting a more thoughtful response to his rather vulnerable admission, but he pulled himself together quickly and a dry laugh fell from his lips.

"Nice try, Whitney," he smiled, shaking his head. "But that's not going to happen."

Without giving me any more time to argue, he turned on his heels and walked out the door leaving me alone to wallow in my guilt and wonder how much longer I'd be able to keep up my act of nonchalance.

There was a weird sense of restlessness in the house that day. Usually, killing a few days at home would be no big deal but, as soon as the stay at home orders came into place that morning, the knowledge that we were now unable to do anything else made it feel slightly more suffocating.

Chris wasn't lying though when he said that he planned to make this lockdown as enjoyable as possible so we managed to keep ourselves entertained as we planned out some of the things we could do. Chris and Scott were compiling a list of old movies they wanted to watch again, I ordered a bunch of puzzles and books (some more child appropriate and some for the adults), Chris dug out an old wiffle ball set he had from when they were kids and Scott organized Chris' video game collection, pulling out all the good ones like their favourite: Mario Kart.

By the end of the day, we were all feeling much more optimistic about how our time at home would go. Especially Grayson. It was finally starting to sink in for him that he got to spend the foreseeable future surrounded by all his favourite people - something that was unfortunately a rarity for him given our situation. He was bouncing off the walls as he threw his ideas into the mix and couldn't wait to get started on all the fun.

The excitement of the day led to another early night for him and I excused myself shortly after, declining the invitation to start practicing my Mario Kart skills.

After our conversation that morning, I was trying to keep a bit of distance from Chris. I wasn't mad and it didn't seem like he had any lasting feelings of annoyance either, but our earlier discussion proved to me that there was still tension and resentment between us. I wanted to let it settle and give him some space so our small disagreement didn't turn into a full-blown argument. Living together after everything we'd been through would be an adjustment period and easing into it would probably be the safest route.

So, I took myself off to my bedroom and lounged in bed watching some new mystery show on Netflix. I started it thinking it would just be a good way to pass a few hours until a reasonable time to go to bed but as usual with Netflix, I got sucked in and before I knew it, it was almost midnight.

I closed my laptop, knowing I needed to get some sleep as Grayson was an early riser, but I noticed the glass of water I'd taken upstairs with me hours ago was empty and my mouth was dry. With a sigh, I dragged myself out of bed, taking the glass to the kitchen to fill it up.

I crept down the stairs, assuming everyone would be in bed already, but I was surprised when I got to the kitchen to see the light on. I poked my head into the room and saw Scott sitting at the little island in the middle of the room, a drink in his hand and a melancholy look on his face.

"Hey," I greeted him, alerting him to my presence. "You're up late..."

"I was just FaceTiming with my boyfriend. He's in LA so it worked with the time difference."

"Boyfriend?" I questioned as I headed over to the sink to fill up my glass. "I didn't know you had a boyfriend."

"It's pretty new," he sighed. "We've only been together about a month now."

"That's so exciting! You didn't want to stay in LA and quarantine with him?"

"No, we thought it was too fresh for us to, like, fully move in together and if I was in LA and not living with him then we wouldn't see each other anyway, so I decided I may as well come here."

"That's really hard," I frowned as I pulled out the chair next to him and sat down. "I'm sorry that you had to make a decision like that."

"It's alright," he shrugged despite the sad look on his face. "A lot of people have had to make much tougher decisions than that lately."

"That doesn't mean you can't be upset anyway."

"I know, but I'll be alright. I'm just glad we've got so many ways to stay in touch." He flashed me a smile and I was glad to see it. Scott was a good guy and one of those people who was usually so positive and upbeat that it was hard to see him feeling down. "What about you? How are you doing with everything?"

"Oh, I don't know," I sighed. "Do you mean the deadly virus plaguing the world? Or the fact that I'm in lockdown with the father of my child who I have a fairly complicated history with?"

"Both," Scott chuckled as he sipped his drink of what looked to be whiskey. "But I was more referring to being here in lockdown with Chris."

"It's hard, but I'm doing okay. It's just a weird situation."

"It'll definitely take some time to get used to for both of you," he nodded. "He felt really bad this morning. He told me what you said about how offensive it is when he throws money at you all the time and I totally agree, but I hope you know his heart was in the right place. He tells everyone how talented you are, he would never want to belittle your career."

"I know," I winced. "I overreacted a little bit."

"No, not at all!" Scott assured me. "He needed to hear it. I've been on the receiving end of it too so I know how you felt, but he doesn't realize how it comes off some times. He's just trying to be generous and help the people he loves."

I nodded and I knew that I should just end the conversation there. Tell him that I understood what Chris' intent was and leave it at that. But my heart overpowered my brain and I found myself opening up before I could stop myself.

"I just don't exactly deserve to be on that list," I reminded him. "And I shouldn't take advantage of any feelings he might have for me after the decision that I made."

"You really do deserve to be on that list," he told me with a smile. "He's really in love with you."

"Love might be a bit extreme," I scoffed. "He's made his feelings clear, I know he cares about me, but it's not love."

"He's not made his feelings clear enough then," Scott countered. "Because he's been head over heels in love with you since pretty much the moment he met you."

My mouth went dry as my brain fought to comprehend that claim while all my instincts were telling me that it wasn't true. Scott wouldn't lie to me, he wasn't that kind of person, but he could be exaggerating especially since he had been drinking. There was an honesty in his eyes though, a look that told me he was telling the truth, but I couldn't accept it, it just didn't make sense.

"That's not true," I argued. "He only ever saw me as a friend until that one night and that night was a mistake."

But Scott was confident in what he'd shared and he shook his head.

"He never saw you as just a friend. You were his endgame from day one."

Perhaps it was a delaying tactic, perhaps it was a nervous response or I was subconsciously trying to buy myself some time to make sense of what he was trying to tell me, but a giggle slipped out at Scott's choice of words.

"Endgame? Is that an Avengers joke?"

"It wasn't intentional," he assured me with a laugh, but he was quick to get us back on topic. "But I mean it. We had a conversation just a few weeks after you met and he was talking about you like you hung the moon. He's been enamoured from the start."

I couldn't wrap my head around it. He was speaking with such confidence, but the words he was saying might as well have been another language. Knowing what I knew about our situation, how things had unfolded between us, how that first night together went down and the aftermath of it, there was no sign that Chris had been in love with me. He cared about me, that much I knew, but to be in love? That didn't add up.

Especially when I'd had those feelings all along as well. Surely, I would have noticed had they been reciprocated.

I'd fallen silent as my brain buzzed, scrambling for any gesture or obvious evidence that I'd missed that might prove Scott's claim, but when he spoke again, I was pulled from my thoughts.

"Do you not feel the same way about him?" He asked. "And there's no judgment here, I can see both sides. I love Chris and I want him to be happy, but I respect what you're trying to do."

I felt my heart rate spike again as my palms grew sweaty in a way that was becoming annoyingly familiar.

I was aware of the importance of this conversation, but I was also aware that I wasn't having it with the right person. If Scott was being honest then Chris must have had his reasons for not sharing the depth of his feelings with me and it felt sneaky and deceitful that I was finding out from someone else. It also felt wrong that the answer to Scott's question was on the tip of my tongue. Chris deserved to know before his brother, but I was tired. Fighting through this mess all by myself was wearing me down and Scott had always been one of those people that compelled you to pour your heart out to him. He was a better listener than most and I needed someone, anyone, to give me some kind of guidance. So the words were out of my mouth before I could stop them.

"I do feel the same," I admitted, my eyes firmly locked on the glass of water on the table in front of me as I worried I'd be too anxious to speak if I looked Scott in the eye. "I love him very much."

"Then why are you so scared to give him a chance?" He questioned. "Just because of Grayson?"

I nodded, but even I was starting to doubt my own motivations.

"We work together so well right now, but if we give it a shot and someone ends up getting hurt then we might not be able to put our feelings aside and keep things peaceful."

"But aren't you hurting each other every day that you spend in love with each other, but not together?" He pointed out. "Yet, you manage to put Grayson first through all that pain."

His words hit me like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over my head.

It was an excellent point.

We were both hurting from being apart, it was clear from how defensive we got over silly little things like we had that morning. I could only imagine how Chris felt, but it was hard for me to be around him all the time and just keep things friendly when in my heart I wanted more. I ached at the sight of him every time I dropped Grayson off or picked him up, but we still managed to be friendly and polite through that.

"How many of those drinks have you had?” I teased earning a laugh from Scott. “They’ve made you too wise.”

"Not enough," he joked. "But it's true, isn't it?"

"It is true, but it's different," I insisted. "If we were together and broke up, that kind of hurt can come with a lot of anger. Right now, we might be sad or disappointed about the situation, but there's no anger."

"Oh, there was anger," Scott informed me, grimacing slightly. "After Christmas, when he came back from dropping Grayson off at your house there was definitely anger. He slammed doors, stormed around the house, got drunk off his ass and ranted about it for hours. I've never seen him that upset over being turned down before."

My heart sank at that news. I knew that he'd been upset, but I didn't think he'd taken it that badly. I thought he was just a bit sulky, but now my guilt intensified.

"Why are you telling me this?" I asked, my voice thick with emotion. "I feel bad enough as it is..."

"Oh, honey, I'm not trying to make you feel bad," Scott assured me, reaching over to rub my back as I forced back the tears that had sprung to my eyes. "But it proves that even if one of you ends up heartbroken, you can still put Grayson first because you just did it."

"I didn't, Chris did," I pointed out after clearing my throat. "If it wasn't up to me, if Chris came to his senses and ditched me for some beautiful actress, then I'm not sure that I could be so forgiving."

"Why would he ditch you?"

As promised, there was no judgment in Scott's voice, just genuine curiosity and I shrugged as I answered.

"Because he could have any woman in America."

"Maybe not any woman, let's not get carried away," Scott smirked, his teasing tone making me smile. "But for such a relationship loving guy, don't you think it's interesting that he hasn't been in a serious relationship in about five years?"

That wasn't something I'd put much thought into, but it wasn't the 'gotcha' moment that it seemed like Scott had hoped it was.

"Not really. He's been busy with work the last few years," I pointed out. "And having a baby with me must have complicated his personal life a bit."

"You complicated his personal life the moment he met you," Scott insisted. "That's my point."

He sounded so sure of himself, but the words he was saying were still hard for me to comprehend. I'd always been so confident in my understanding of our relationship and if I was to believe him, it would shatter everything I thought I knew.

"I just don't see why he wouldn't have mentioned this by now..."

"You know how he gets with his anxiety. He's not always the over confident hotshot that people assume he is," Scott reminded me. "But you'll have to talk to him if you want more information than that."

I let out a sigh as I knew he was right.

"There's a lot that we need to talk about," I admitted. "Thank you for this though, Scott, you've given me a lot to think about."

"Anytime," he smiled. "And I completely respect that you're willing to put Grayson first despite whatever feelings you have. You're a wonderful mom and I would be proud to call you my sister-in-law."

I laughed at his outrageous leap from even considering a relationship straight to marriage and shook my head.

"You need to go to bed, Scott," I instructed. "You've clearly had too much to drink tonight."

"I probably have," he agreed. "But I meant everything that I've said. Think about it, okay?"

I nodded as I slid off the stool I was sitting on, wrapping my arms around him in a quick hug.

"I'm here for you too, you know that right?" I asked as I stepped back. "If you ever want to talk about your situation or vent and complain about the distance, whatever you need, I'm here."

"Thanks, Whitney," he smiled before dragging himself off his stool as well. "Goodnight."

I returned his smile and mumbled a 'goodnight' of my own before heading back to bed with all the new information that Scott had provided echoing around in my head. While it had been a very informative conversation, I wasn't quite sure whether I came away from it with the clarity I was looking for or just more confusion.

Part Three

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