I do not consent to my work being copied, plagiarized, or translated in any way >:P
Even the most powerful man in the world had a weakness. It could be money, material things… even people. You were Nick Fowler’s weakness and everybody knew it. Most enemies would make a joke and say if someone wanted to kill him, they would have to while Nick was balls deep inside of you.
That man was powerless when it came to you, no matter how stoic he could be. He never told you no and when he did, it was for a good reason… most times. Only you could see through his bullshit and it was hard to bluff with you.
Nick had a lot of enemies that was for damned sure. But.. He was untouchable — until now.
You never thought you would see the day that anyonewould have touched him, let alone have him tied to a chair. It was the usual Tuesday and you were putting the finishing touches on your makeup when he called for you.
Your body was already on fire because when daddy called for you, you ran shamelessly. It didn’t matter if you were in the middle of a shower, you were prancing your naked ass down the hallway just to see what he wanted.
That was something he didn’t mind at all, he didn’t need to rip off any clothes to get what he wanted. But as he called for you on this day, there wasn’t an inkling that something was wrong.
Summary: it’s been two months since you left, but that doesn’t mean you couldn’t work it out.
Pairings: Colin Shea x black!reader
Warnings: smut, minors dni, make up sex, pregnancy, breeding kink
(A/N: this story has been sitting in the drafts for idk how long lol glad it’s finally done though just needed to let it bake for a minute apparently. Named after I Miss You by Blink-182. I think this is based on an ask sent to me by @queenoftheworldisdead a long time go. Not proofread in the slightest . Anyway like, follow, reblog with feedback ✌)
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Of course you’d told Colin you wanted to take a break and this is what happened. It was like life wasn’t allowing you to know peace. You knew you needed to talk to him for more reasons than one. It wasn’t that you didn’t even want him anymore.
The fight that sprung it on had been bad. All the yelling. You’d spent the rest of the night crying while he got drunk at some bar before being dropped off back home by one of his band mates.
The next day you’d packed your shit and left. Told him you needed some space from him. Even when he begged you to stay, you just couldn’t. Told him you didn’t know when he’d be back home. It was silly, but you’d been having nightmares ever since. Of that look on his face when he’d watched you get into your sister’s car.
(A/N: just a quick little thing I was inspired to do after reading @whiskeyncoke-redux’s ABC thingy. There is smut and mentions of BDSM so if you’re not into it then ♀️. Not edited or proofread thanks so much for reading. Please like and comment with a reblog ✌)
Feral and crawling on my knees reading this, bestie the images you produced in my head are *chef’s kiss* ahh these are so fun and I love that I can picture him doing all this filthy shit! Your Chris stuff is always a fave!!!
First, thank you so much to everyone for commenting, reblogging, sending messages, and liking the first part of this story. I was a little overwhelmed by how much everyone enjoyed the first part; thus, I knew I needed to continue. Once again, thank you so much for reading!
In the beginning, he used to joke that getting you to share anything was like pulling teeth. You were so guarded. It took months for you to tell him the basics. Three months to learn your favorite color, four to learn your favorite food, and six to learn your middle name. Each reveal was a badge of honor that he wore with pride. Chris was an affectionate guy, almost vulnerable to a fault. It was in his nature to wear his heart on his sleeve. Although, it took a minute, you learned to adapt, and he learned to wait. Except right now, it felt like he was done waiting – done trying. The game had ended, and you were suddenly standing there with the broken pieces of your heart.
You thought you would cry, but you didn’t. Maybe, it was the shock that allowed you to keep your composure. This was your last day at the hotel, so your bags were already packed. You moved mindlessly as you collected your things and left the room key on the table. The buzzer on your phone pinged, reminding you of your flight departure. You wanted to say something, but his focus was on the person on the other end of the phone. You quietly opened the door, your heart shattering with every step, and left.
This was more than a breakup. It was a confirmation – your worst fears brought to life. You were hopeful, which was your first mistake. Hope is what kept you in it, after the third weekend alone. You liked who you were when you were with him. It was cliché, but he brought out the best in you. He made you want more, to be better. As selfish as it sounded, you weren’t ready to let go of the person you were when you were around him. He was this huge character who filled up your world with bright, untainted color. Everything was brighter, sharper, more focused. Somehow, he made your world less fuzzy. Except, now everything was a blur.
Thus, a haze followed you as you entered the car to the airport. You closed your eyes as you zoomed through the city. You should’ve been eating pastries and going to museums, wandering through coffee shops and exploring downtown. This wasn’t how your day was supposed to end. The first tear fell. Maybe, you expected too much from this, from him. Maybe, it was his fault. He was so good at playing the good guy that somehow you expected nothing else. He allowed you to hope and dream. That’s what his love did to you. It was bold. It didn’t waver or change. When he declared his love, it was final. No doubt. No regrets.
“I love you,” he whispered, as his hands traced your skin.
You tilted your head up to meet his eyes. At this point, you were used to silent nights and empty beds. You were in a relationship, yet you spent most nights alone. This was now your life. You had chosen this: the lonely nights, the months-on-end without seeing each other, the lack of time. You were in a relationship with someone who was never there – not physically anyways, and the daily mundane activities of your life couldn’t distract you from it.
Thus, when the bed shifted and you felt him snuggle into bed for the first time in months, you thought you were dreaming. But he was there – he was real. You turned off your laptop, happy to leave your work for the company of him and dove into the covers. Naturally, you found yourself wrapped up in his arms, nestled in his chest, listening to the sound of nothing. You used to hate the silence, the emptiness of noise – of chaos. Yet, with him, you could spend hours in his arms doing nothing, but being silent. Your grandmother would be amused. All it took was one man and you suddenly found a way to “stop fussing and making all that noise.”
You stared up at him quizzically, doubting your own hearing. Maybe, you imagined those three little words. He smirked, his blue eyes sparkling under the dim lights. In the shadows, you could make out the creases near his eyes, the bags that couldn’t be concealed. It reminded you of this other world that consumed him when he wasn’t with you – his other love: the reason that you spent most nights alone, the root of your frustrations, yet the source of his happiness. It fulfilled him in a way that you imagined you never could, which is why you were hesitant to start this in the beginning, and why you couldn’t believe what he was saying now.
He smiled, and you leaned back, trying to read the expression on his face. You wanted to ask if he was okay, but he was calm, peaceful in his demeanor. He was tired, yet he wore this sated glow. The man looked happy – genuinely happy. You brushed it off, attributing his break from filming to his current mood, but he said it again.
This had to be the twilight zone. You blinked again and again, waiting for him to make sense. So many nights were spent thinking of this moment, but those were just dreams – hidden desires. It was too early, right? If you were better at relationships, you would know how to navigate this, but you didn’t. The only thing you knew was your grandmother’s advice – “find a man who loves you more than you love him.” Thus, when you were first falling for him, you had pushed down those feelings, terrified of being the first one to say it. Except, he was saying it now, and you didn’t know what to do.
Chris deepened his smile, his eyes amused by you. His hands traced your jaw before settling on the curve of your lips. He shifted from your lips to your nose, writing some unspoken language with his fingers. Your eyes softened, but the questions still marred your face. He didn’t say it again, letting the silence accompany his touch. You sighed, closing your eyes, as he lulled you to sleep.
He replaced his fingers with his lips, placing a gentle kiss on your lips, and then your nose, before kissing your head. “I love you.”
You opened your eyes, looking up at him again. This time, he didn’t give you time to rationalize it away. He cupped your face, keeping his blue eyes trained on you. They were steady, communicating everything he’d been trying to say with those words. You blinked, surprised by the admission in his eyes, and the steadiness in his voice. He left you with no room to guess or overthink.
“I love you.”
You smiled, chuckling before finally laughing. This wasn’t a dream. You buried your face in his chest, a sigh escaping your breath, before looking up at him. “Say it again,” you whispered.
“I love you.”
“Again.”
“I love you.”
You held your breath and closed your eyes, savoring the moment. “Again.”
“I lo – “
“I love you too,” you cut him off. This time, he was left speechless as he gazed at you. Chris bit his lip, crinkling his nose, as he looked up at the wall. You couldn’t stop smiling as you watched him.
“Chris,”
He covered his face with his hands. “Yeah?”
You moved his hand from his face, seeing the tears that he was trying to hide. As if you didn’t already love him, this just made you love him more. You tilted his face towards you, so that you could wipe his cheeks and fully see him. “Did you hear me?”
He laughed, before pulling you to his chest. “Yeah.”
“I love you,” you repeated.
“I love you,” he smiled as he kissed your lips. This wasn’t a dream.
You opened your eyes as the memory faded, and reality set in. That night felt so distant and dream-like now. Those people wouldn’t have argued, but maybe you were never those people. Maybe, this was just the end of the honeymoon stage and you were both settling into your true selves. Except, the pieces didn’t fit anymore, and you couldn’t make it work.
You couldn’t remember how, but you were now sitting in your seat, waiting for the plane to take-off. Three hours and you’d be home – the three-bedroom walk-up that was now filled with his stuff. It wasn’t just your apartment anymore; it was his home too. You sighed. No, you couldn’t go back there, not yet. A hotel for tonight, then tomorrow you would figure out the unraveling mess that was your life. Nothing from the past 12 hours had truly registered. All you could think about was his stupid phone, and how it wouldn’t stop vibrating.
You closed your eyes, trying to focus on anything else. Boarding was taking longer than expected. Usually, you wouldn’t care, but right now, you needed to be anywhere else but here. “Holy shit.” You could hear a growing commotion roaring from the front of the plane. You were hiding out in the back, switching seats with an elderly woman who needed the leg room more than you. The tears that you’d been holding on too were threatening to spill, and there was no place better to hide your sobs than in the back of the plane. Thus, you left the comfort of first class for the solitude in economy. At least here, you could nurse your tears alone. You closed your eyes, trying to ignore the growing fervor among the passengers. Everyone was whispering about something, but you were too tired to figure it out, until you heard his voice.
“Excuse me, sir,” he tapped your seatmate’s shoulder, “how much do I have to pay to get you to switch seats with me. See, I really need to talk to the woman sitting beside you. Usually, I wouldn’t do this, but it’s a life or death type thing.”
You refused to open your eyes and look at him. He was using his “public voice,” tapping into his Chris Evans, the celebrity, persona. Hence, the reason for the commotion. He probably took a million selfies on his way to your seat. Knowing the power of his charm, you already knew that your seatmate was about to abandon you for a selfie with Captain America. A second later, you found yourself sitting next to Chris.
It wasn’t enough that he picked his phone over you. Now, you were subjected to a three hour-long flight with Captain America, and the last thing you wanted to do was talk. Even if you could muster the words to speak to him, everyone on the plane was watching him, which meant they were watching you.
“Fuck,” you mumbled under your breath.
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Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. Should I continue?
