Chris Evans: Short Stories and Imagines

another day

summary:
you and chris have been in a "situationship" for as long as you can remember, and so the day comes when you've had enough.

warning: angst, swearing, shitty ending

a/n: just as an FYI this is a two parter - the following continuation piece is titled another hour.

-:-

You were irate. There is an incoming text from Chris on your phone and it splays out the collegial term: you up?

It's 10 pm on a Saturday night for crying out loud, of course you were up. He would be the one keeping you up and not because of his lewd booty call or the self-righteous amount of wine you were guzzling down in one go. No. It was all because you were unintentionally, irrevocably, madly head over heels, reverently balls deep in love with him.

Imagine. Just imagine having the capacity of seeing him and his godly face. Being fortunate enough to have every crevice and curve of his body pressed against yours, feeling the radiating pits of his warmth and his golden aura as he whispers sweet nothings in your ear that is tender as his love making. Imagine hearing the way he laughed meticulously, seeing the way his eyes turned into delicate little half moons every time he did. The way he would scrunch his nose up and shake his head at you when you did something remotely silly. The little things he would do, were the little things that would permeate your thoughts day in and day out. The little things that fail to go unnoticed.

But he didn't know that. He wouldn't care to know how you felt, to piece together what kept you up at night and hopelessly at his beck (bitch) and call. You knew, it stopped somewhere in between when you reluctantly allowed yourself to be his rag.

All the pleasurable problems in your life came down to the sex. Sex with Chris Evans is seldom yet soul shattering, you both continuously crave it but for different motives. In the end, simply fornicating, was never enough for you.

This whole friends with benefits, no strings attached arrangement all started when you two had nothing better to offer the other and the dating pool was a shark tank full of ungrateful piranhas.

For someone like Chris, he was okay with torch bearing his own sexual crusade without the commitment or added drama. He had made this unanimously known to you over the years and maybe this was because you've always been a complacent ally. The girl who would bend backwards if it meant she had a chance. But your chance came, you found yourself getting out of a messy engagement. That was five years ago. Somewhere in those healing years, Chris fixed that fissure that nearly split your heart in half. He saved you, cherished you and then fucked you against every flat surface as a consolation prize. It makes you realize that life, at this point, has become cyclic and there is no foreseeable future. Everything with him stops shortly after the sex and tonight will become no exception of that, if you allow for it.

The devil finds his way to you when your phone impatiently rings. You slurp up the rest of your wine and answer motley.

"What is it, Chris?" He is never one to wait or ask how you're doing, there is shift when he doesn't and that just means he's thinking with his dick up, balls firm and on the prowl for a warm place.

"Come over." He was in an impersonally upbeat mood that you didn't want to entertain all because it meant nothing to you now, at least that's how you're conjuring yourself to heed way. "Fuuuuck I need to see you, baby."

"I'm busy." You fib.

"Yeah right Y/N." He snickers in a room full of hubris attendees and tycoons that all seem to be having a separately good time on their own. "I know you're on your couch with Winston watching Night Court on DVR."