#chris evans x yn

Overview: Going to a premiere together, you and Chris document the night with a disposable camera, keeping moments just for you. 

A/N: HELLO! I have been MIA for the past 2 months, I am aware of this and I’ve hated it. However its been a really big time for me, I’ve officially started University studying Creative writing and Publishing! I am loving it so far but its been so busy, with surprisingly little time to do my own writing. I am however powering through and have planned ahead a few more imagines so please stay with me I’m trying i SwEaR!

Thank you all for still supporting my work it means everything to me. Like and Comment! :) 

Word count: 2300 (ish) 

The room was a bustle of chaos. Makeup artists holding fistfuls of brushes, publicists talking tiny phone or typing away on computers, the smell of dozens of Starbucks coffees fuming the room. You had to pause for a moment, try to be the calm in the storm as everyone around you patted, and prodded and cooed. In the grand scheme of things you weren’t even the priority, but you were the date, the girlfriend, and that was just as important. Photographers and reporters will swarm to you like wasps to coke, and so how you looked meant everything. “How’s the dress, honey?” Sierra the seamstress asked. She was crouched by your feet, sewing the last of the details onto the hem. You turned to look in the mirror behind you. The soft teal material billowed around you so as. You moved the trail looked as if you were stood in water, the tulle then wrapped around your waist to rest just over your heart. The silver pendant and rings you wore shimmered in the light as the diamonds stood out against your skin. When this had started you had insisted that you wouldn’t be the centre of attention, it’s not your night after all, but you allowed yourself this moment to awe at your reflection. Looking like this was a rare treat, one that not many people got to experience. You ran your hand gently over the material, smiling softly. “it’s beautiful,” you whispered.

“You look, beautiful darling,” Gianna the designer’s voice boomed over the noise. With her platinum hair hairspray into a helmet of gravity, red lipstick and pointed green glasses, she looked oddly like Rita Skeeter. It was something that you found thoroughly amusing and had to keep pointedly saying her real name. “You’ve done such an amazing job, Gianna,” you smiled “It looks incredible.” Gianna smiled and reached out to grab your arm lightly “YOU look incredible Y/N. He’s not going to know what to do with himself. Now,” you both turned back around to look at your reflection. Gianna shifted the dress slightly and then put both her hands on your shoulders “remember, if anyone asked, you are wearing Me. Okay? ALRIGHT, WE’RE MOVING!” The room snapped to look at you, and suddenly hands were reaching out, a wave of painted nails and hairy knuckles, helping off the sand and starting to direct you towards the door. At one point you almost tripped over your dress and you heard Gianna yell “Someone hold onto her train for goodness sake!”

“oh wait!” You grabbed the disposable camera next to your purse, checking that there were enough photos. This past week you’d been using this to decorate your new office, and tonight you wanted to remember how you looked, unedited and honest. You then made your way out of the room and into the suite next door. If your room had been chaotic this suite was as if there was a national crisis. It was so busy it was almost impossible to move, and people had to yell to let you through. Most people are smiling or doting on how lovely you looked, but you saw a couple of people roll their eyes or pay no attention to you at all; you were only an accessory to them after all.

But all doubt shifted from your brain when the last people parted and you finally saw a glimpse of him. His back was to you, looking in a full-size mirror just like the one next door, but you didn’t need to see his face to already feel your heartbeat wildly.

“Um, Mr Evans?”

“Scott I told you,” Chris’s charming smile widened, a hand on the interns back,” call me Chris.” Scott’s cheeks flushed pink with delight, but was able to hold onto his professional facade as he continued “Your publisher is asking when you wanted the car to come around.”

“Whenever works best for the driver.”

“Of course Mr Ev-Chris” With one pat on the back Scotty scuttled out of the room, hurriedly muttering into his earpiece. Chris turned and stopped when he saw you. His face changed to one of childlike awe, his eyes looking you up and down as if this was the first time he was seeing you. He tried to find words to say, and when he couldn’t all he could do was clap a hand to his chest and take a step back. “Wow.” Everyone laughed. He walked forward and lightly kissed you on the cheek, wrapping you up in his arms. “you look beautiful,” he whispered into your ear. Hugging back you smiled “so do you.”

“Well that’s just a given,” he joked. He squeezed you around the waist, and you could tell he didn’t want to be this restricted, by the way his hands moved slowly up and down your body. He pulled away for another moment to look you up and down, his eyes shining with sheer joy. For a second it was as if it was just the two of you, but that moment was fleeting as Chris’s usher coughed loudly. “the car is ready for you Mr Evans.”

“Thank you,” Chris reluctantly let you go, but only for a moment to turn back to the mirror once more. He went to reach out for your hand but a hoard of people had split the two of you apart. It was okay, you reminded yourself, you knew there would be moments of tonight where Chris would have to be just Chris, it was something you two had talked about before tonight. Instead, you clicked the dial on the disposable camera and snapped a couple of shots, Gianna insisting on getting a couple of you so she could have one for her records. Then you were gently pushed once more out into the corridor but this time were escorted to take the wide marble imperial staircase to the hotel’s foyer. As you were at the top of the stairs Chris was halfway down the stairs, listening to his publicist. “Chris!’ You called. He looked up, his smile once again ad you waved the camera briefly. “Smile!’ The camera flashed and you both chuckled, You winding it up again and taking another one, although this time you’re sure you got the publicist’s scowl. “Come join me!” He called. The publicist tried to say something but Chris ignored him, making everyone wait whilst you awkwardly pushed past people on the stairs until you were by his side. This time he was able to reach out and intertwine your hand with his. “You ready?”

“Of course.” You both smiled, and then the procession continued, down the corridor outside into the cold February air. There was already flashes of cameras waiting outside but the pair of you quickly stepped into the car, which zoomed off down and joined the late traffic of London. You both were able to breathe a little easier, and this time he didn’t have to be restricted as he was before. Grabbing your hand once more he gently pulled you over so you were sat next to him, one of his arms looped around your shoulders, his fingertips gently drumming on your collarbone. He peppered a couple of kisses on your temple, then picked up the disposable camera. “Okay just stay where you are.”

“Why?” You laughed.

“because I want one photo of you now, one that only we will see. And no matter what photos of us are taken, we’ll have one each of us, and they’ll be the ones that we care about.”

“If that wasn’t you saying that I would have cringed so hard at that.”

“Just smile.”

So you did, the flash bright and blinding for that second. He took a couple more, including one of you laughing at a comment he said. Then it was your turn, so you took a couple of him. You already knew they were going to be your favourite photos him, and suddenly this plastic camera was the most important thing you owned.

“We’ve arrived Mr Evans,” the driver informed from the front, and the car crawled to a stop. You could already hear the screams of fans and the yells of photographers, and Chris turned once more to you. “You nervous?”

“No.” And it was true, now you were here you were surprised at how calm you were. “I’ll be here if you want me-“

“Well you are my date so I guess that’s a yes?”

“You’re hilarious. I’ll be there for photos and stuff if you want me, but If not then that’s fine.”

“I want you there. If you’re good I will be too.”

There was one more pause, one more moment of calm. “I wish I could kiss you right now,” he laughed “but If I smudge anything right now you’ll never leave this car.”

“There’s time for that after,” you winked cheekily.

“ah of course. And 5 Guys.”

“It is the tradition.”

Chris kissed your intertwined fingers “I love you.”

Hearing that still made your heart flutter “I love you too.” And together, you stepped out, into the chaos.

The green carpet winded through hoards of people, staining the usual grey of the London pavement. As the film was based in the 60s the lights were all vintage spotlights, brass and stained with age, and gorgeous jazz music crackled through speakers covered by fake vines and greenery. Behind the barriers, the crowd roared as first Chris stepped out and then opened your door for you, holding onto your purse with the camera stowed safety away as you gingerly shimmied out. As a couple, you started to walk by the wall of paparazzi, but yous stopped when you felt the dress tug underneath you. “ I think my shoe is stuck,” you called over the yells of “CHRIS! LOOK THIS WAY!”

“Hang on.” Without hesitation, Chris got down on his knee and carefully shifted your skirt until he found the tell caught around your heel. As he gently started to untangle it he jokingly tickled the soft skin by your ankle, causing you to laugh loudly.

“Stop it.”

“Stop what?” Her mocked innocence, but he did it again, you laughed harder, this time teetering a little on the other heel. Before you could even be scared to fall Chris was back on his feet, grabbing your arm and pulling you close, your arm naturally wrapping around his waist. “Honestly,” his sarcastic eye roll matching his teasing tone “I can’t take you anyway.”

The cameras were loving this, flashes happening so much that your vision was blurred slightly by purple blotches. You could see enough to smack him lightly with your purse before kissing him lightly just bit the ear, where the shimmer lipstick wouldn’t be seen as much. You both then complied and stood for photos, looking at different angles, always close holding hands or arms around each other’s waist. At one point Chris whispered the lyrics to the song playing in your ear, and once again you could feel your cheeks flush pink. He loved that too, so continued to whisper the words of Frank Sinatra and Paul Anka in your ear, meaning every word but enjoying the way you physically melted. He continued to do this to you throughout the night too, putting his hand high up on your thigh during the movie or commenting in interviews how gorgeous you were, dragging you over and telling everyone how amazing Gianna had been with your dress. At one point he accidentally called her Rita and you both burst out laughing, leaving the poor interviewer looking politely confused, before awkwardly avoiding the subject. It was a night of Champagne and compliments, the deposable camera documenting it all. Some photos were taken with fans too, including an amazing one of a fan so overcome with emotion with Chris posing for a photo she burst out sobbing just as the flash went. Many introductions and how did you meet conversations were exchanged, so by the time you both crawled back into the car 5 hours later, your throats were dry and feet sore from walking.

“I’m starving.” He didn’t even have to say and the car was already pulling back into the traffic, a call ensuring asking for food delivery to be delivered to the hotel. As you rested against Chris, you heard him humming some of the songs from the premiere. His voice buzzed gently through his body into yours, causing you to become almost warm. His shoulder was warm from where he’d worn a jacket all night, now off and on the seat beside him, the smell of his cologne lingering only slightly. To you it was one of those moments where everything seemed to be that little bit softer; the flashing light from the passing street lights, turning the back seat momentarily orange. The material of his shirt, the way his chin rubbed against your now dishevelled hair. The way he continued to hum his love songs, knowing that they were all for to you. Everything in that moment was real, a moment that only you would have. Knowing that you smiled into his chest, allowing his arms to wrap around you, your joint humming filling the car with its warmth.