Random One Shots

Random one shots with actors, musicians/bands and characters.

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130. Chris Evans 6 Part 1

~Nothing is worse than the feeling of unrequited love. Neither death nor dishonor could be more agonizing than disinterest, especially when you confess said love to the object of your affection.
You’d spend months working up the nerve to tell him. After filming Avengers: Age of Ultron, it hit you like a train. You were in love with Chris Evans and everything about him. Everything from the way he grabbed his chest in the throes of laughter to the way he fidgeted with rigid seams of his Captain America suit. Everything from how he would awkwardly cross and then uncross his legs to the way he looked at his cup of coffee when it was almost empty.
When you’d finally summoned the courage to tell him, it was terrifying. You were worried, scared, and completely unprepared for what happened.
Your palms were sweating, and you kept nervously wiping them on your jeans. It was the final night of filming, and the director had called it a wrap. You had to be on a flight to London for another film early in the morning, so there was no way you could stay for the wrap party, and you had to tell him. God only knows if you’d be able to see him before filming began for the first half of Avengers: Infinity War. Hell, you didn’t even know if he was contractually obligated to take part in it. You didn’t honestly know if you’d ever see that smile again off-screen.
What if he doesn’t feel the same? What if he thinks I’m crazy? What if he hates me?
A seemingly endless list of what-ifs shuffled through your mind, and you had to stop walking, stop looking, and take a deep breath. Your eyes squeezed shut, and you exhaled slowly. Your fingers trembled as you heard a familiar burst of profanity, followed by the sound of a few people hooting.
“On your left, kid,” someone whispered in your ear. You turned slightly, looking over your shoulder. Anthony Mackie stood there, drink in hand. He held his arms out, inviting you in for a hug. “Come on, come on, bring it in!”
You cracked a soft smile, wrapping your arms around his neck. He reciprocated, giving you a soft squeeze around your midsection.
“Gonna miss seein’ you around. You gonna miss me?” he asked, nudging you playfully with his elbow. You rolled your eyes with an ever-widening grin and shook your head.
“Nah. It’ll be nice to get rid of all you smelly guys for a while,” you joked. He put his hand on his chest and let out a pained wheeze.
“Girl, that’s cold. Real cold.”
“Really, though, Mack, I will miss you. Keep in touch, or I’ll have to hunt you down.” He cocked an eyebrow, taking a swig of his beer, which he chased with a cheesy leer.
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll keep in touch. Gotta get the dirt on this new movie you’re doin’ anyway!”
The two of you carried on for a bit before Scarlett interrupted, apologizing to Anthony and asking if she could borrow you for a few minutes. Anthony, of course, cracked a lesbian joke, and bid you goodbye before departing back into the sea of people. You looked at them longingly, hoping to see Chris pop out somewhere, but Scarlett had other ideas.
She dragged you by the arm away from the crowd. It was a cramped, secluded spot out of earshot of anyone else.
“Did you tell him yet?” she prodded. You shook your head and she sighed, putting her hands on your shoulders gently. “You’ve got a flight out of the country in six hours, honey, and we both know you’ll be gone for a long time. Say something before you go. I promise it’ll work out the way you want it to.”
You scoffed, redirecting your gaze to the wall, trying to find something of interest to stare at. She grabbed your chin, hissing your name firmly, commanding that your look at her. You gave in, looking into her eyes with skepticism.
In the time you’d known her, she’d become your closest friend. You shared everything with her and vice versa. There were no secrets between the two of you.
“You know I wouldn’t lie to you. Chris has feelings for you. It’s obvious. I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you.” You nodded, feeling quite reassured. She encouraged you to take a few deep inhalations, in through the nose, out through the mouth, and sent you on your way back to find him.
You spied a familiar coif of blonde hair, and you made a beeline for him. He welcomed you with a tremendous hug, and it lingered a bit longer than most would deem comfortable. You asked to speak to him alone, and he obliged.
So there you stood, pouring your heart out to him, telling him everything.
Honestly, you didn’t really remember the details of your half of the conversation. It was all a blur of nervous rambling. But you very clearly remembered his response.
His eyes were wide, his broad shoulders were tense, and he’d just about chewed a hole in his lip. After a succinct moment of silence, his lips parted and his brows creased. The tip of his tongue pocket itself in the corner of his lips for a moment, and his gaze avoided yours.
“I… Wow. I didn’t know you felt that way,” Chris murmured, bringing his hand to the back of his neck. He rubbed at it absent-mindedly before finally looking at you again. “That’s… That’s really flattering. Thank you.”
It was your turn to look away. Nervously, you nipped at your lip. It took all of your strength not to break down and cry in that moment. Two thoughts battled for dominance in your head, one being to run, the other being that Scarlett was wrong for once.
You let out the breath you’d unconsciously been holding in.
“I’d better get going, then. Just thought you needed to know,” you muttered, avoiding his stare.
You didn’t get any sleep that night. Between packing, crying, repacking, crying more, and the incessant flow of texts, there was neither time nor room for sleep. All texts went unanswered. As guilty as you felt about it, you were really in no mood to talk to anyone. It felt like you’d been sucker punched in the stomach. Another wave of nausea swept over you, and you couldn’t tell if it was because you were going to throw up, or because you’d cried yourself to the point of throwing up. It wasn’t until you’d actually boarded the plane that you checked your messages.
15 Unread Messages; 8 Missed Calls, 5 New Voicemails
You settled on starting with the missed calls, deciding it was too late for the voicemails (being on the plane), and too early to call anyone back.
One was from your mom, one from Jeremy, two from Scarlett, and four from Chris. You felt a twinge of guilt, wondering if ignoring your phone the previous night was of any use.
You sighed, easing your way into the texts next.
From: Scarlett
Where did you go?
I just talked to Chris. Call me.
Quit ignoring me, or I’m coming over.
Fine. At least text me before your flight, okay?
You tapped out a quick response, telling her you were awaiting take-off and you’d call when you landed.
From: Wing-Man Mackie
Hope your flight goes well. Miss you already!
Another quick response was sent to Anthony: Miss you too, man. Better see you when I get back!
From: Prince Chris of Melbourne
Sorry I didn’t catch you before you left. Thanks for all the morning chats! Gonna miss it tomorrow.
Your reply to Hemsworth’s text was, much like the others, short and sweet: I miss it already!
From: Tom
Heard you’re headed to London. I’ll give you a call when I get back, and maybe we can meet for lunch or something. Have a great flight! xx
Now Tom, ever the chivalric gentleman, managed to coax a few more words: Absolutely! Most of my schedule is night shoots, so I’ll be relatively free in the afternoons. Just let me know!
But once you saw Chris’ name on the screen again, your heart dropped to the pit of your stomach, and the nausea quickly returned.
From: Captain Chris-merica
Can we talk? Please?
Fuck. I’m sorry. I really wanna talk about this.
Please tell me you don’t completely fucking hate me. I feel like a complete asshole right now.
Please don’t ignore me. I don’t want this going unresolved.
Sorry I’m blowing up your phone, but I need to talk to you.
Come on. I’m gonna keep doing this until you say something.
The last one forced a small smile on your face, mostly because you could just picture him saying it.
His texts had been sent every hour, on the hour, with the last being sent ten minutes prior to your imminent departure.
The intercom crackled as the stewardess’ voice came on, requesting that you shut off and stow all electronics until further notice. Your compliance was a necessity, so you powered down your phone and dropped it in your bag.

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