"I really like women who get emotional about babies and puppies. I've met some incredibly cool women who are tough, but the woman you marry should have a really soft side."
key:
* (features smut and/or is smut),
* (fluff),
* (angst)
Read at your own...
Content warnings: fluff, extreme mentions of sex, language, SMUT!
Pairing: Chris Evans x reader
The door shut with such ferocity that the whole car rattled, and you had to stop to make sure nothing would come off. Like a mirror. That happened once. Or a wiper. Yes, on the highway mid snow storm.
The phone in your pocket buzzed and you fished it out. Chris, the contact read. You sighed. How you managed to be best friends with an A-list celebrity and still be living in your 2007 Toyota Yaris was beyond you.
You looked at yourself in the reflection before you answered. Hair was kind of a mess, but when was it not. Your shirt was fairly new, but your jeans were ripped at the knees, and not in that L.A fashion way. In a way where you slipped off your mother's front porch in a haste to get away and scratched out the knees of your jeans. And these were your good jeans too!
"Hey!" you answered, turning towards the coffee shop. "I'm walking from my car!"
"I took the liberty to ordered your favorite!" he answered.
Your heart fell. Yes, Chris was fucking rich. Filthy rich. But you didn't need him to buy you coffee. Yes, you were living in your car, but also yes, you'd manage to scrape up two dollars for a medium two creams.
"Thank you," you sighed into the phone. "Next time, it's on me."
"Whatever, Y/L/N."
You hung up as you walked up the stars to the coffee shop. You spotted your friend, trying but failing to hide his identity with a baseball cap. Two men were beside his table, phones out. You waited patiently for them to finished taking pictures with him, and when you saw your friend getting up, you frowned at him.
"Too many," he mumbled as he got to you and handed you your drink. "Let's get out of here." He guided you out the way you came with a gentle hand on your lower back.
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You went right back into the streets, Chris sighing out, "Where are you parked?"
You were going to answer some bullshit about being parked far because you didn't want Chris to see all your belongings in your backseat, but he pointed beyond your head.
"Is that the Toyota Yaris 2007?" he gushed. He began walking to it, much to your discomfort, to your need to run because, fuck, he was going to see your dirty laundry and your memories and some old socks on your dash out to dry. "So many memories in that baby."
Yeah, you'd had that car for a while now.
"Never get rid of it," he chuckled, turning on his heels momentarily as you followed him reluctantly.
