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astranva · 2 years

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Oprah Winfrey Interview

Word Count: 7k

Category: angst, fluff

Warning: Mentions of parental abuse, mentions of physical and emotional abuse, brief mentions of drug use.

Summary: As one of the most famous actresses in the world, fans watch Y/N Y/L/N-Evans’ tell-all interview with Oprah Winfrey which Chris joins.

Planet Evans Masterlist

Fans all over the world never expected it.

While everyone knew your name from the youngest age to the oldest from all across the globe, it was a rare sighting for you to be seen in an interview and people gathered as much with all their favorite A-list celebrities being lowkey about that sort of media and marketing. Instead, they usually basked in all the content they could get from press junkets from your movies or the very few premieres you attended, or the big, prestigious award shows you went to–and none was the case for the longest time after you had hit the 4th month mark on your pregnancy, and all the way until you had your baby, River.

So when an hour-long episode from Oprah dropped where you gave a tell-all, and with Chris, people freaked out before even watching it.

Sure, seeing you in interviews was rare, but seeing you and Chris in the same interview? That had never been done before except for your Actors on Actors one.

Even though Chris always loved to praise you and tell some cute, funny stories about you that always started with “my wife”, you were still a very private couple whose smallest interaction on social media or the blurriest pap photo sent the world into a frenzy.

It was especially exciting that the episode was aired after you had given birth to your first baby, River, and while fans wondered if they would ever see his face, they knew that the chances were slim.

“And the Oscar goes to Y/N Y/L/N!” The episode began with the 2011 Oscars, showing a clip of a younger you, tearful eyes looking up in shock as everyone around you stood up with applause.

“The Oscar for best actress goes to,” pause, “Y/N Y/L/N!” Again, with a reverbed sound and another clip of you again, eyes closed with a smile and a hand to your heart as again, everyone was on their feet with applause.

“This year’s Oscar goes to,” a beat, “Y/N Y/L/N for Promising Young Woman!” But that time, you were shown as you smiled and stood up, instantly turning as your husband, Chris, pressed his lips to yours while your hands cupped his cheeks.

“And I tell them, Y/N Y/L/N is the youngest and highest-paid actress in the world right now, she’s unstoppable,” a voice said over a clip of you at 15 years old, smiling as you stood on a red carpet.

“She’s an enigma,” another said, “She’s truly this generation’s icon,” was said over another clip of you at

“This kid does a little bit of everything. She’s going to be the biggest actress in the world and I just know it.”

“Y/N Y/L/N’s dad came forward with some serious accusations,” a host’s voice was heard as it showed paparazzi pictures of your head hidden in Chris’s chest, and although your face wasn’t shown, it was obvious that you were crying, especially from Chris’s hold on you and deep frown on his face.

“Who is Y/N Y/L/N’s father and why do we not know much about him?”

A clip of you at Emmy’s was then shown, holding the award in your hand, “This is to all the women in my family line. I’m right here because of you. I’m right here for you. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

The screen faded into black before it showed Oprah standing, vast greenery behind and around her as she stood by a chair in yours and Chris’s farmhouse’s garden.

A smile was on her face as she had her arms opened, looking to the side before you came in view.

Your hair was naturally down, the front of it loosely held by a tiny hair clip at the back. Clad in a short-sleeved, brown, soft shirt that was tucked into beige pants where a black belt shone with its gold buckle and black Gucci mules on your feet.

“You look so beautiful,” Oprah said as you hugged.

“You do,” you said, softly rubbing her back before pulling away, a smile on your face, “It’s been so long.”

“Too long,” she said, “What? 8 years?”

“Right?” You chuckled a little with a shake of your head, leaning forward to give her a hug again.

“Thank you for doing this with me,” Oprah said.

You adjusted your gold herringbone necklace around your neck that Chris had gotten you years ago before you motioned towards the comfortable chair for Oprah, before you sat on the couch.

“I know you normally don’t do interviews,” she said.

You chuckled with a slight nod, “Yeah, yeah, it’s been long. There’s the occasional talks with Jimmy Fallon.”

“He makes everyone feel comfortable, doesn’t he?”

“Jimmy is incredible,” you nodded, “Never has any pressuring questions, never puts you in the spot, he’s just—he’s very humane,” you put a hand to your heart.

“He truly is,” Oprah agreed, “I’m flattered that you trust me with this, Y/N,” she said, “You trust me with your story, your house—your house is so beautiful,” she enunciated, “Is it all your doing?”

You shook your head, “No, Chris and I were both so involved. It’s ours,” you laughed lightly, “There’s him in every corner, there’s me in every corner. It’s just so us.”

“This is where you come for solitude?”

You nodded, “This is where we feel like—like everything’s okay, or will be. It’s quiet, it’s like a breather. It was actually especially useful during quarantine.”

“You had your quarantine here?”

You nodded, “We stayed in Boston for some time but then decided to come out here for a while then ended up staying months,” you said, “It’s when we grew most of our fruits and vegetables,” you beamed.

“You-That’s amazing,” Oprah mused, “What fruits and vegetables have you managed to grow? Because they can be quite the hassle these things. It’s not all easy.”

“We grew bell peppers first then blueberries, tomatoes, strawberries, tangerines, lettuce, radishes,” you listed, “A lot of things-we grew a lot of things,” you laughed.

“That’s such an amazing hobby. It’s a healthy hobby,” she pointed with a small laugh, “Oh my God,” she put a hand to her head before moving it to her heart, “God, I’m so sorry, how could I not start by congratulating you on your baby?”

You laughed shyly, “No, you’re good.”

“I’m so sorry,” she repeated, her motherly eyes staring at you, “River.”

“River,” you repeated with a nod and a soft smile.

“That’s such a beautiful name. River Jude Evans, is it?”

You nodded, “Yeah, yeah, right.”

“Of course I have to ask about the story. A lot of people have been saying you named him after the late-the incredible, River Jude Phoenix. Did you, really?”

You nodded, “Yeah,” you confirmed, “Chris and I are all about nature. So we knew we wanted a name that impersonated that, that gave life to our connection like that because we knew that our baby is just-that’s the product of so many years of love, of similarities, and-just, the flowing of our relationship,” you said, “So we were talking one night, we were coming up with names and coincidentally Stand By Me was playing, the movie,” you smiled, recalling the memory, “So we were talking, choosing, excluding, then it was during that part where Gordie was asking Chris in the movie if he was weird,”

“Chris was River Phoenix,” Oprah smiled.

“Chris was River Phoenix,” you pointed with a nod, “And he was like ‘yeah, you’re weird. Everyone’s weird’ and my husband and I were just giggling and smiling at that part because it’s one of our favorites,” you said, “Then it just,” you snapped your fingers, “Clicked. Suddenly naming our baby River really clicked because I have had this indescribable connection to River Phoenix ever since I was just a kid,” you pointed at yourself, “My mom absolutely adored him, to the point where you’d think he was my brother and it was-it was especially heartbreaking when he passed. So in a way, I felt like-we felt like we wanted to do this for him and for us,” you smiled slightly, “So we met up with Joaquin and we told him about it and it was-it was such an emotional day.”

“I love that you decided to take Joaquin’s consent,” Oprah said, “That you thought about him before making the decision.”

You nodded, “It was important to us. He was very supportive of it, and he was-he’s been very lovely with River.”

“They met?”

“He met River, yeah,” you nodded, “Just recently actually. He’s an extraordinary man.”

Oprah nodded, a smile on her face as she listened to you talk, “How did your mother take the news?”

“The pregnancy?”

“And the name choice.”

“Oh Gosh, my mom was a wreck,” you laughed, “She still is. She can’t believe she’s a grandma.”

“Can imagine. It’s a big feeling.”

“It is, it is. She’s just-she was so emotional. I think-I think having a grandson was something her mind didn’t allow her to even think about.”

“Why’s that?”

You sucked in a breath, “In a way, it feels like-like someone shaking your shoulders. Or it’s like someone telling you that this is now your reality. This is your life. Your daughter found love, she built a home, she’s having a family, and that’s all because you made it out of a tiresome, and an absolutely dark place.”

Oprah nodded, her pointer against her temple.

“My mom has her moments of surprise still because she endured so much,” you said, “And I think that it’s not just River that is now a reminder that she endured so much for me to reach that part of my life, but I think it’s Chris too.”

Oprah hummed, eyes soft, “Seeing you in love, with your own family.”

You nodded, “Exactly.”

“How was that like? How was life like back then for her? For you with your father?”

You took a breath in, looking up for less than a second, “It was rough,” you muttered, “I remember the first time I realized that the relationship I saw as a kid, back at home, wasn’t normal was in school. I think I was six years old,” you frowned, “And I mentioned something in front of a teacher about how it was normal for dads to hit their wives and daughters because to me, that was normal. That was the usual. I didn’t know that you shouldn’t fear your fathers like that, that-that the relationship you have with your dad shouldn’t be built on whether or not you’re going to get pushed,” you said, “But I grew up hearing my mom cry out more than, maybe sing and that-I thought that was normal.”

“Was he both physically and emotionally abusive?”

“And everything in between,” you said, “In my entire life, I’ve only really talked about it all twice. Once with a therapist when I was, maybe twelve years old and then another to Chris. It’s hard to think about sometimes so I just-the words get stuck. I’ve seen-I’ve seen things I wish can erase, heard things I wish I never did.”

Oprah nodded sympathetically, “Was it always like that?”

“In a way, yes. Um, it was scary at first because they loved each other at first. He was Mom’s neighbor, she fell for that-that bad boy next-door neighbor then they got married. It wasn’t always physical but it got physical when he first cheated on her,” you told, “And my mom was pregnant with me at the time and they had moved away from the city. She was-she was so in love with him, had the whole ‘I can fix him’ mindset and decided to stay because she wanted me to have a present father in my life. She felt like if she left, she’d be the reason behind me not having a normal home,” you said, “So it got physical with pushing, shoving, but it didn’t escalate until I was maybe one year old, or two. And that’s-that was beside the things she had to listen to, the shouting, everything.”

The screen changed to a picture of you and your Mom from when you were four years old, sitting on her lap as you grinned to the camera as she sat on grass, soft eyes looking at you with a smile.

“What about your family? Did she not tell anyone?”

The screen then went back to you and Oprah.

You shook your head, “He didn’t allow my Mom to see her family.”

“Oh my God.”

You nodded, “And we were away from them so it wasn’t the easiest when it came to visits but she was so scared when they did that they thought it was her who wanted to cut ties with them and they were so heartbroken,” you said, “They tried to help a few times. Ask if he had anything to do with it but my Mom just denied every time.”

Oprah nodded, “She had no one.”

“No one,” you nodded, “He made her feel so small, so-so weak. I always get so defensive and just-so angry and emotional when there’s a conversation about a toxic relationship, or an abusive relationship and someone’s like “Well, why can’t she just leave?”” You said, “Because it’s never that easy.”

The screen changed to wedding picture of your Mom and Dad, her in a dress with a happy smile while he smirked, his hands on her waist as she held on to her bouquet of flowers.

“So many layers.”

It then changed back to you.

You nodded, “You hold on to things that aren’t there and your self-esteem is nonexistent. He made her feel like she wouldn’t survive a day without him.”

“But she did,” Oprah smiled softly, leaning forward to rest her hand on yours.

You nodded, a small smile on your face.

“When did it stop? When did she decide that enough was enough?”

“I was about eight years old and I started getting into theatre,” you said, “My Mom used to help sneak me out and to the theatre, come up with lies and excuses because he never wanted me-he never wanted anybody to do something that he didn’t like. I had this theatre instructor, Mrs. Lowe, that became friends with my Mom and she was her only friend. At some point, she knew about how things were at home and she tried convincing my Mom that she’d call the cops for her and all but my Mom was scared,” you moved your hand as you talked, looking at Oprah, “So there was this opportunity to play Annie in New York and Mrs. Lowe was travelling there because she got an opportunity there. She reached out to my Mom and-to this day, I don’t know how she managed to convince her but the next thing I know is that my clothes and my Mom’s clothes are in a duffel bag and we’re travelling with Mrs. Lowe.”

“Without telling him.”

“Without telling him,” you confirmed, “We just-we ran away. Mom had no contact with anyone from our family for so long, but she knew he was going crazy. I remember that-if I wasn’t waking up to the sound of her screaming from a nightmare, it was her waking me up because I had a nightmare,” you said, “I got the role as Annie and stayed with Mrs. Lowe for a year before my Mom got to afford this one-bedroom apartment, then the theatre decided to extend the broadway for two more years and they offered to pay for my education at this public school where some of the theatre kids went.”

The screen showed a picture of you as a kid on stage, mid-singing in your Annie costume before it changed to another one of you standing in line with a lot of other kids and people, the picture zooming to your beaming, childish face.

“And what about food? Clothes? Everyday necessities?”

“I got very little pay, but my Mom would still try to save up from it for my college and she gave me the rest to spend because she wanted me to be responsible with the money, so she always monitored that.”

It then went back to you.

“What did you end up getting with your money?”

“It wasn’t much, I always ended up getting us canned soup and crackers, really,” you chuckled, “Clothes were Mom’s doing. She learned to knit and sew, so my entire wardrobe was just all her doing.”

“God, Y/N,” Oprah breathed out, “When did she reach out to your family?”

“Right after I finished Annie in nineteen ninety-nine. She sent them a letter with Mrs. Lowe because she was going back to work on some papers, but she was terrified of going back with her,” you said, “At that point my Dad went all out. They rescued him a few times from overdosing, he lost all his money to drinking and drugs, all of which he had already began doing when I was two years old, but it just-it got worse. But my grandparents flew out to New York after Mrs. Lowe gave them the letter and they helped us out a lot.”

“Your Grandpa was there?”

You nodded, a small smile on your face, “Gramps was there, he was alive. My Grandma says it’s the heartbreak of what my Mom and I went through that just-because it was only six months after we reconnected that he-that he passed away.”

Oprah hummed, eyebrows furrowed, “And did it get better after that? Were your conditions better?”

“We got by,” you said, “It wasn’t until I was about twelve years old that my Mom didn’t really skip meals because she used to do that all the time–just to make sure we had enough food. But she works as a vet and it took her some time to be on her own and everything, but before that she had two jobs as an assistant nurse and would usually make these pretty dresses and sell them for kids,” you smiled slightly.

“Was it you that took your family to another place? Did you feel like you needed to act to get the money?”

“No,” you shook your head, “I never really thought much about where I’ll get with acting. I mean, I just knew I liked doing it and my Mom was always proud of the fact that I had that getaway with theatre, but she was very nervous and just–she wasn’t entirely okay with me pursuing acting because she knew the amount of pressure that is put on you, especially when you’re a child actor.”

“But was she supportive of it when you got your first role? It was for Spy Kids, wasn’t it?”

You nodded, “It was, yeah, and Mom was very supportive, just very protective and I think–I’m very thankful for her because whenever it felt like too much, she’d always pull me aside and just tell me that I can just leave if I want to and that nothing and no one is forcing me to do it. She’s always been laser-focused on my comfort.”

“Your Mom is a hero.”

“She is,” you sighed, “She really is.”

“How did you feel when she remarried? You were still young when she met your stepdad, right?”

“I was eighteen when they met, nineteen when they got married,” you nodded, “And–I felt scared for some time because I knew well what my Mom went through, and a huge part of me thought that nobody deserved her. She’s just–Like, she’s just too good for anyone, but Pops was–he’s an incredible man.”

The screen changed to a picture of you and your stepdad, Marshall, when you were older, looking twenty, as he was sitting on a bench, you standing behind him with your arms around his shoulder and head beside his while his hands held on to your arms as you grinned while he laughed.

“You call him Pops,” Oprah noted with a smile.

“He’s the closest I got to an actual father,” you said before the screen went back to you, “I called him by his name, Marshall, for some time then I remember one day–I think it was about two or three years later, I just called him Pops and it just–it stuck with us, with me,” you pointed at yourself, “Because it made so much sense.”

“How did that make him feel?”

“God,” you chuckled, looking up in thought, feeling your eyes grow tearful, “He cried like crazy,” you said, “We were all crying, really.”

Oprah’s soft smile was on her face, “Why did you never call him Dad? Why Pops?”

“I didn’t–I don’t have pleasant memories attached to the term,” you said, “It’s not like I can’t say it, or that I don’t want my kids calling Chris ‘Dad’, but I couldn’t use it myself. In some way, it felt like–Like, you know what? Let’s start over. You don’t need to be my Dad because I know how that one is like, you’re going to be my father but I’ll just call you Pops.”

Oprah hummed, “Was your family welcoming to Chris?” She asked, “I can imagine with a protective mom and father, and given the background, I just–I can’t imagine it was easy.”

“They were welcoming,” you nodded, “But they were so intimidating,” you chuckled slightly, “Chris didn’t meet my family right away. I think he met them like five or six months into the relationship and everyone was polite, they were friendly, but my Mom was just sitting there observing him, looking for the red flags,” you laughed, “And Pops was trying so hard to look all tough and scary, and–God, even my little sister, Madelyn, she was maybe seven years old or six, and she just interrogated him,” you laughed.

“Seven!”

The screen changed to a picture of you and your little half-sister, Madelyn, from when she was only a newborn as you cradled her in your arms when you were twenty-one years old before it changed to another recent picture as she stood in her swimming attire, a gold medal around her neck as you kissed her cheek before it went back to you.

You nodded, “Chris was sitting on the couch back home and she was in this big chair and she was just like “What are your intentions with my sister?””

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not,” you laughed, “And I remember later that night, Chris was telling me about how it was Maddie he was worried from. It took her some time to warm up to him.”

“You’re like a family of protective women,” Oprah said, “It’s passed down.”

“Oh definitely,” you nodded, “We’re very protective of one another, of our family.”

“But I think Chris has that reputation about him, too, doesn’t he? That he’s so protective over you, especially when you were pregnant?”

A picture of you and Chris was then shown from years ago, your head to his chest as hugged him while his lips were on your head, eyes closed as he held onto you, before another picture from the Los Angeles premiere of The Gray Man was shown; you were both standing on the carpet, his hand on your big bump as he smiled at you while you smiled for the cameras.

The screen then changed to you.

“Oh, definitely. Definitely,” you nodded, “He’s overprotective and he was–he watched over me like a hawk during the pregnancy,” you chuckled, “But he was just so nervous and he’s–he’s quite the worrier, really. I did snap at him for it a few times too much, but I knew it only stemmed from a good place because–Chris has the biggest heart ever, he’s just constantly looking out for those around him.”

“You know it gave people some headlines,” Oprah said, looking at her iPad, “Chris Evans can’t trust wife Y/N Y/L/N with the baby,” she read, “Chris Evans attacked for constraining actress and wife Y/N Y/L/N.”

“We always think it’s funny when people get offended on our behalf,” you said, “You have a new father who’s actually just very attentive, very worried like all new dads, and you think he’s limiting me,” you shook your head, “It has nothing to do with trust. I know I trust Chris with my life and I know he does so, too,” you pointed at yourself.

“So you know about the articles?”

“We do, yeah,” you nodded, “There have always been questionable articles. At the end of the day, we just decide to move on and do what suits us best.”

“I’m proud of you,” Oprah said, “Well, we’ll go on a break then Chris will be joining us after.”

It wasn’t long before the interview was back on, Chris sitting beside you on the couch, the three of you having fresh pomegranate juice.

“I’ll just begin by saying this is the best juice I have ever had in my entire life,” she said as she pointed at the glass, “You made that?” She asked you.

You nodded, “It’s mostly the pomegranate that’s good. We take pride in it,” you put a hand on Chris’s arm.

“Organic and homemade,” he boasted before laughing.

Oprah hummed in contentment as she took a sip, “Sooo,” she dragged, looking at Chris, “Thanks for joining us.”

Chris smiled, “Thanks for having me,” he said, rubbing his hands on his thighs before sitting comfortably.

“You’ve been watching us from the side,” Oprah said.

Chris chuckled, nodding, “Yeah, yeah just lurking a bit.”

“First of all, congratulations,” Oprah beamed, “On the newest addition to your family. Y/N was telling me all about naming River earlier.”

“Yeah, thank you, thank you,” Chris smiled as he glanced at you, “Let’s hope he stays asleep for some time,” he joked, looking at the baby monitor on the table.

“How did you feel knowing that your baby is a boy? How was that like when you were looking at the ultrasound?”

“We actually decided to wait. We didn’t know he was a boy until Y/N was in labor,” Chris said, “To be honest, it felt–I don’t know, I mean, I still would’ve cried the same if we had a girl because it just didn’t matter to me. All I was asking for was a healthy baby, and a painless delivery for Y/N which wasn’t–it wasn’t exactly the case,” they all chuckled slightly, “And yeah–yeah, I was just so overwhelmed.”

“Did-Oh! Your dog is here,” Oprah clapped as Dodger appeared, instantly going to your side, “Dodger?”

“Yeah,” Chris beamed, “Hey, hey, buddy,” he excitedly exclaimed to his dog, reaching over to scratch his head while you petted his back.

“Doesn’t like missing out on anything,” you joked.

“You have a cat, too, don’t you?”

“Yeah, Pam,” you said.

“Queen Pam,” Chris said sarcastically.

“Stop that,” you laughed.

“Chris, are you a classic cat hater?” Oprah asked.

“No, I don’t hate cats, it’s just that Pam hates me. She absolutely despises me,” he said.

“So not true,” you shook your head with a smirk.

“It is,” Chris nodded.

“Uh oh, rivalry,” Oprah joked.

“Oh, absolutely. Absolutely,” Chris nodded again.

“You know, Y/N and I were just talking about her family welcoming you in their life and she was telling me about that interrogation her sister–Madelyn gave you.”

“Oh yeah,” Chris laughed, nodding, “I was already so scared. Just so nervous, but nothing could’ve prepared me for the fact that out of her mom and Marsh, it was Maddie that I needed to worry about.”

The three of you laughed, your eyes on your husband with a smile on your face as he then talked.

“No, but really, I think–I’ve always admired how protective Y/N’s family is of her because I realize where that stems from. I know how things were like and you can never really blame them for it.”

“Did your past with your biological father,” Oprah began, looking at you, “Did that affect the both of you? Did it affect your relationship?”

“Oh for sure, for sure,” you nodded, crossing one leg over the other. This time, it was Chris’ time to look at you, one elbow leaning on the armrest with his middle finger right under his bottom lip and pointer on his cheek. “I think it affected all my relationships, but with Chris–What I felt for Chris when we were first just seeing each other, it wasn’t something that I had ever felt and that was so scary to me,” you said, “It took me everything to try and just–to break that cycle of trauma and convince myself that not every man is my father,” Oprah hummed with a nod, “Chris is nothing like him. He’s not here to harm me, he’s not here to belittle me. That I’m worthy of love that is–that is actually genuine.”

Chris nodded to himself at the last bit, a soft smile on his face.

“And Chris, how was that like for you? I imagine things were not easy. That the process was slow and there were things you didn’t know that might have been triggering for Y/N.”

“Yeah, for sure,” he nodded, “Y/N’s very self-aware, like incredibly self-aware and she’s always been all about communication. So the process was slow, yeah, we took our time but I wasn’t complaining because I always knew this was something for life, you know?” He smiled slightly, “I knew this was worthwhile. That alright, we’re actually keeping each other for quite some time right there, and when you have that feeling about someone–when you have these feelings for them, you just want to make it work. You’ll wait for years even, you’ll do it.”

You smiled, very briefly resting your head on his shoulder before he wrapped an arm around you.

Oprah looked at you with soft eyes, tilting her head at the both of you.

“This is beautiful,” she said, “You know, I was thinking on my way here about how you both are like to the media,” she began, “Like the way you both are put in high regard but monitored so closely, yet you keep everything so private. It’s like what people know about you is what you want them to know.”

Chris nodded, looking at you and signaling you to reply.

“I think with our position, with our occupations, we want to keep so many parts to ourselves. Because when you’re all out there, when your arguments and daily rituals and everything else is just out in the open, it’s just–it’s no longer a relationship between you and your partner. It’s a relationship between you, your partner, and everyone with an opinion they feel needs to be shared and things get out of hand. Like, Chris and I could have an argument like every single couple out there, but the minute we go outside and either of us is looking a little angry or upset, it’s suddenly the end of the world,” you said, “Suddenly I’m labelled as undeserving of Chris, and he’s labelled as toxic. It doesn’t matter than nobody ever truly knows the context or what happened, everyone is just so quick with labels.”

“And we make up pretty quickly,” Chris said, “Like way quicker than the internet does. So we’d be doing pretty good, pretty well, but the internet and the media is still raving about possible divorce or breakups or anything of the matter.”

Oprah nodded, “You both have had your fair share of labels,” she said.

“Oh, definitely,” you chuckled.

“Y/N, you were very sexualized in the media, or just, in the industry at times, especially during your formative years which is very appalling to think about.”

You nodded.

“How did you manage to establish boundaries? Because as far as I know, before you stopped doing interviews in 2015, you were vocal about it. You were calling out predatory behavior in the industry against young actresses.”

“I think I actually lucked out with the people around me. I have people I trust that I have always gone back to for advice and rants, and it took me some time to realize that I don’t appreciate how my job, my performances, and my personality–everything was just thrown away and disregarded the moment I show some skin. Suddenly it’s all that everyone can talk about. Suddenly the reason behind my success is my body, and everyone is no longer interested in anything but what I eat, who I’m wearing, and shamelessly posting fantasies as if I’m not an actual human being,” you said, “And it’s the case with a lot a young actresses now, and has been the case for so long but the narrative is changing. As long as people actually talk about it, as long as they address it, then it’ll come to an end because you have so many actresses and models getting forced in-in absolutely sick relationships and situations, and taking on harmful diets, harmful beauty standards, and they’re suddenly looked at as something and not someone.”

Chris was nodding, arm still around you and hand on your arm, softly rubbing it up and down.

“Was there a moment when you called it all out and were threatened?”

“Of course,” you replied, “Things used to be even worse back then than they are now. So I expected the threats. I expected the talks about how I’m never going to make it further if I keep declining offers by predators and just–just people who should be locked up.”

Oprah blew out a breath, looking at Chris, “You have a tough one, don’t you?”

“Absolutely,” Chris replied with a proud smile, “I think–I believe this is what the industry needs. I think Y/N’s paving the way for a lot of young actresses, because it’s inspirational looking up to someone who recognizes their place and who can actually come forward and call people out for the things they do. She’s been through a lot,” he said, “So I’m never surprised that all her passions really come from a place of experience, from-from empathy.”

Oprah nodded, “God,” she hummed with a shake of her head, “There’s so much you went through, I know that,” she pointed at herself, “I imagine that’s one of the reasons why you’re overprotective,” she told Chris.

Chris chuckled a little, nodding, “I know Y/N can look out for herself, she’s an incredible woman. She can look out for an entire family but I just think she doesn’t need to do that,” he said, “I relate to her at how the feelings we felt for each other were just-they were new. It’s a sort of love that, to me, was unlike any other. So it just comes naturally to me,” he gave a shrug, “Worrying about her, thinking about her, especially if we’re apart, it’s out of my hands.”

“I imagine that was even doubled during the pregnancy.”

“Oh quadrupled even,” you joked with a laugh.

“Okay, okay, I wasn’t that bad,” Chris joked.

“I wasn’t there and even I know that’s a lie,” Oprah said.

“Alright maybe, maybe just a little,” he laughed.

“You hid the pregnancy for the first 6 months,” Oprah said, “How was that period like?”

“Quiet,” you said, looking at Chris.

“Quiet,” he repeated with a nod, “It was definitely great, honestly. Just keeping that to ourselves and to our close family and friends.”

“Everyone was wondering where you went,” Oprah told you.

You chuckled, “There were a lot of death rumors that time actually. Even though I posted some Instagram stories and tweets.”

“Somebody must be running Y/N’s account,” Chris joked.

“Conspiracy theories,” Oprah joined in on the joke, “I think the pregnancy announcement was one of the biggest announcements of the century, and I’m not even joking.”

“That’s on her,” Chris joked, tilting his head toward you.

“Chris was that ever scary to you? Being with someone like Y/N, she’s always been up there for the world,” she put a hand up, “Like a true female icon in the entertainment industry as whole.”

“Yeah, definitely,” he confessed, “When I first met her, it was back in 2014, I was already so starstruck because she’s always been an icon, just like you said. So the thought of us being together never really occurred to me, but when I really got to know her, you forget all about the fact that this is Y/N Y/L/N,” he said, “I think I’m not with just one version of Y/N though. I’m married to the icon, to the-the absolute legend, and I’m also married to the woman who prefers baking pies and making pasta from scratch over going all out and fancy, and I’m married to the woman who also likes feeling good, looking good, going out with friends or preparing a fancy date. I got over that shell–that layer people have when it comes to Y/N because it’s very dehumanizing,” he said, “Just like Y/N said really, it’s important that you stop looking at your idols as something and start looking at them as someone.”

Your eyes were tearful, smiling to yourself slightly as you looked down, listening to every word he said.

“That’s a really good point,” Oprah pointed out, “It’s very dehumanizing. I agree with you,” she said, “On a lighter note, how was it like in your life together during that time in 2019 when Chris’ journey with Marvel came to an end? Because I imagine that was very emotional.”

“God, yes,” you nodded, “Is that truly a lighter note?” You joked.

“It’s the lightest I can do,” Oprah joked.

Chris laughed, “No, really, really, it was very emotional because my journey as Cap was like-it was a comfort zone, so that ending was just a little turbulent. But going back home at the end of the day, or just-just circulating back to Y/N and my family gave me comfort during that time.”

“Comfort zone,” Oprah smiled.

“For sure,” he nodded, “I think we go beyond the comfort zone.”

“But he made a legacy with it, really,” you smiled at your husband before looking Oprah, “It’s such an iconic character for everyone.”

“Of course, who doesn’t know Steve Rogers as Captain America?” Oprah opened her arms, “But speaking of legacies, let’s switch to another route real quick,” she said, “Do you both think River will follow yours?”

You blew a breath out, Chris raising his eyebrows slightly.

“River can be whoever he wants to be,” you said, “There’s no pressure that he needs to be added to follow anybody’s footsteps.”

Chris nodded, “I think with River we’re really aware, and we’re really cautious to protect him from all that exposure for as long as we can, and for as long as he grows up to make the choice himself.”

“That’s really beautiful,” Oprah said, “I think you both are incredible parents.”

You and Chris both beamed, “Thank you,” Chris said, “Thank you, thank you.”

“I try,” you said, “I’ll always try.”

“Do you think you’re just one and done with children? Because I know you both are so family-oriented,” she said, “You like big families and that environment.”

“Definitely not one and done,” you laughed, “But there’s no rush. We’re just living life day by day right now. Just making sure River grows up in a nurturing household, with emotionally mature parents, most importantly.”

“Any bets on the first word?”

“It has to be Mama,” you joked.

“I have a feeling it’ll be Mama,” Chris laughed, “He’s a momma’s boy. He’s a huge momma’s boy.”

“Is that a broken heart I hear?” Oprah joked.

“Oh, definitely,” Chris joked along, laughing as he nodded, “How dare he!”

“I just hope his first word isn’t anything inappropriate,” you chuckled, “Chris, and Scott and my best friend, Jia, have a habit of cursing all the time so I hope he doesn’t catch any of that.”

“You should set some rules.”

“Rules were set,” you nodded, “Rules get broken,” you laughed, “They never do it intentionally, it’s just in their nature.”

“I never do it intentionally,” Chris said with a shake of his head, “I’ve been practicing though, for a while now.”

“You need to do that,” Oprah joked, “So,” she smiled, looking at you, “Your story has a happy ending?”

“Yeah,” you smiled, leaning slightly on Chris, “It does.”

“That’s because you both made it so,” she said.

Chris smiled, looking at you.

“How do you feel right now?” Oprah asked.

“Content,” you answered, “I’m happy with how my life is like now. I’m satisfied with it.”

“What about you, Chris?”

“Extremely grateful,” Chris answered, “This is everything I’ve always dreamed of, and-and I’m happy I get to share that with my wife. I honestly wouldn’t want it with anyone else.”

It wasn’t just you with tearful eyes, because so did Chris, but it was you who first wiped your cheek away with a small laugh.

Oprah smiled, “Any plans?”

“Just being a husband and a dad that my family needs, what they deserve,” Chris said.

You nodded slightly, “Just focusing on our family, really. And just-just really enjoying the moment with all the sleepless nights and everything that comes with it because I know it’ll all just pass by so quickly.”

Oprah nodded with a smile, “Well, thank you for sharing your story. Thank you for trusting me with your story. I can’t wait to see River, I can’t wait to see how the both of you will be like in a year, in two years, I’m excited for it.”

“Thank you so much,” you smiled, “I trust you the most with this.”

“We wouldn’t have had this any other way,” Chris said.

#planet evans #planet evans universe #chris evans imagine #chris evans one shot #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x reader #chris evans fluff imagine #chris evans angst imagine

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taylorswiftstyle · 9 months

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Out and about | New York City, NY | September 30, 2023

B-Low the Belt 'Lukas Leather Belt' - $188.00

This belt initially gave off similar vibes to the iconic ‘horsebit’ motif from Gucci but is actually a much more accessible piece by women-owned brand #BLowtheBelt.

Worn with: Jacquie Aiche jewelry, Aritzia dress, Ralph Lauren bag

#taylor swift #candid #accessory #b low the belt #september 2023

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imfinereallyy · 1 year

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The Long Con, pt. 2

Access pt. 1 here. I've also decided to start posting this on ao3 as well, which you can find here.

Las Vegas, Nevada

Steve had met Robin during one of the lowest parts of his life. After leaving Boston and everything he knew behind, Steve hopped from place to place for a few weeks. Working odd jobs just to get from one place to the next. Eventually, he landed himself in Vegas. It had felt far enough from home where he would avoid being found, but also less obvious than a place like LA.

Steve had a lot of vices in his past life, sex, money, and women, but gambling wasn't one of them. So if someone was following the trail of his bad habits, Vegas wouldn't even cross their mind.

Steve began working at a bar on the strip when he arrived. It was a fancy place, wasn't part of a casino, and stood out independently. The Bearpoppy Lounge. It was the type of place where everyone wore suits and Gucci belts. Wealth was not only flaunted but required. It reminded Steve of the places his parents used to take him to impress business partners.

Robin had been his trainer for the bar, and well, she had absolutely hated him at first. Steve hadn't been able to figure out why. He was incredibly charming, and women usually fell at his feet. Okay, maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration, but people usually drew to him. It had been a shock to the system when the first thing Robin had said to him was,

"I give you two days before you quit."

"What?" Steve asked in shock. Surely, she couldn't have been serious. "Do I not even get your name? Or, I don't know, a hello?" Steve thought he should reel in the snark. It wouldn't help his situation to let out his bitchy side. He just wasn't used to it. The lack of immediate trust he got from strangers. Most people would find that mentality naive, but Steve was raised to be enticing.

"My name is Robin, like it says on my name tag if you had bothered to read it. And I don't usually bother with introductions. I know the pretty boy type; trust me, it doesn't last." Robin wiped down glasses at the bar and didn't look up as she spoke.

Steve was resisting the urge to blow up on her. He couldn't prove her right. He had to lay on the charm thick.

Steve took in Robin's appearance before answering. She was pretty. Short dirty blonde hair cut to her chin with pink at the ends. Light freckles decorated Robin's face, which defined her already high cheekbones. She was tall, almost as tall as him, but she held herself awkwardly, like she didn't know what to do with her limbs. Robin would be easy to charm. Beautiful, so he wouldn't have to lie, and insecure so he could work her. "Well, if pretty girls like you can make it this far, I don't see why I can't." Steve leaned his body against the counter and appraised Robin up and down.

Robin snorted, "Oh god, you can't be serious. Please don't tell me the next thing you're gonna say is how you 'got lost in my beautiful blue orbs' like we were in some cheesy fanfiction."

Steve's mask fumbled a bit. "Orbs? What? Eyes can't be orbs. Then you'd have to see all the way around? Right? Wait—" Steve spiraled for a minute. Robin threw him off his rhythm.

Robin's face cracked slightly at Steve's confusion before she sighed deeply. "Look, I'm going to be, uh, straight, with you." Robin paused as she had a sort of inside joke with herself. "I don't like you."

Ouch. "Ouch."

Robin pushed on, "Look, it's not about you personally. It's about, ya know, what you represent. Like you came in here with no experience, no background, and just charmed your way into this job. Now I have to spend two weeks training you, only for you to stay a month tops. Guys, girls, and everything between, like you only come to work here for two things. Fortune and fame. They come to find a rich spouse or try to catch the eye of someone with a business card and a one-way ticket to Hollywood. And listen, it works. Most of you guys get what you want. Any other bar on the strip, I would tell you to quit while you're ahead. Big names come in here, though. And most of you get what you want. And if you don't? Well, you usually break and go back home to Mommy and Daddy. You all leave me high and dry and training another person. The worst offenders of all are the pretty boys. They come in here, lay on the charm, making assumptions about me, try to sleep with me, and when I don't give them what they want, they turn on me. So, sorry if I don't think we will get along."

Steve felt something inside him snap, "You know, for someone who hates people making assumptions about others, you really are assuming a lot about me." Robin looked taken aback by the bitchy attitude. Steve pressed on, "And I don't want that, Robin: fortune and fame. I mean, a little fortune would be nice, but who doesn't want that? And did you think that there was a reason I had to charm my way into this job? You said it yourself I have no experience! How will I ever gain that if I don't have the job to try it in the first place? And for your information Robin, there is no way I am running back to Mommy and Daddy. I think I'd rather take my chances with the streets, thank you very much."

Robin opened her mouth to speak, but Steve cut her off.

"Also, if you aren't into me, that's fine. I wouldn't make you uncomfortable for it. I'm not everyone's type; I can deal with that." Steve crossed his arms, emphasizing his point to her.

Robin swallowed, a bit of shame crept onto her face. "Sorry."

Steve sighed, "It's fine."

"No, it's not. I didn't give you the chance to fuck up first. I should at least give you that. And I get it, you know. Not going back to the parents."

The tension left Steve, "Yeah?"

"Yea, it's actually for the reason you're not my type. "

"Huh?"

Robin giggled but then looked hesitant. "I'm pretty sure the only kind of person you aren't the type for shares something in common with me. I'm a lesbian, dude. "

Steve took in the way Robin shrunk on herself even more and decided to share one tiny secret with her; even though he shouldn't be in the business of giving away his secrets. "It's okay. I'm safe. I'm not going to tell anyone. We share the same secret."

It was Robin's turn to say, "Yeah?"

Steve smiled at her, "Oh yeah. I, too, love the ladies, Robin."

Robin giggle-screeched. "Dingus!"

Steve warmed at the pet name. "But I also like the dudes. And everything in between."

Robin's smile softened, "Thanks for telling me."

Steve waved his hand in the air. "Yeah, yeah. Are you actually going to do your job and train me?"

"And just when I was starting to like you. Welcome to hell then; I'll be your guide." Despite her words, Robin's tone held an ease that wasn't there earlier.

Steve knew she'd be tough to crack, but he knew it would be worth it.

--------------

It was weird; it was Robin who gave him the idea. When they first met, he thought she would have been the judgemental type. Well, he wasn't far off from that, but she was surprisingly morally loose when it came to illegal activity.

"You know that man would have done anything to get in your pants, right?" Robin nodded toward the guy who just left the bar to go sit back with his buddies. He was in his late forties, and pretty fit for his age. He had introduced himself as Clark; which either the dude had the world's most bland name, or he was using Clark Clent as a pseudonym to cover the fact he was flirting with a man when Mr. Clark was clearly married (at least the shiny gold band said so). Steve hadn't been interested, though. For one, he wasn't looking to get attached to anyone (although Robin was starting to make that look difficult). Secondly, Steve had learned the hard way that being a queer person, no matter the day in age, wasn't always safe.

Especially with married men.

"And so what, Buckley? I don't think I have anything to gain from a married man looking to bang some random bartender, who, by the way, he doesn't even know likes other men?" Steve throws his towel over his shoulder and turns towards Robin.

"But you are into men." Robin deadpans.

"Okay, true, but not the point. Hey, wait, how does he even know I like men?"

Robin shrugs, "Same way that I did, like seeks like my hairy friend. However, I suppose we aren't exactly the same. Since I am only interested in the ladies. Oh wait—does that make us more alike since we both like women, and you liking men makes us less alike? But that's gay, so that makes us—"

"Robin, you didn't even know. I had to tell you. After you yelled at me."

"Sorry!" She cringed.

Steve sighed, "Besides, still nothing to gain from sleeping with him. Besides, the dude's name is Clark."

Robin snorted, "That's rich coming from you, James."

Steve was not lost on the irony that he and Clark were both using fake names.

"I'm not exactly sure you're getting to an actual point Robs."

Robin put her hands in front of her as if she was surrendering. "Okay, hear me out. The dude clearly has money and really wants to sleep with you. Heck, a lot of people come in who want to sleep with you. Men, women, everything in between, and everything outside of it. These people want you, Steve, which I don't understand, but they do. These very rich people want to sleep with you. And you, a very poor bartender who frankly is terrible at his job, could use that to his advantage."

Steve just stared at her.

"You do get what I am saying, right?"

"Yes Robin, I get what you're saying. You want me to prostitute myself to our customers."

"I believe the proper term is sex workers; you can be offended by not offensive."

"Robin." Steve whisper yelled.

"Oh, c'mon! It isn't the worst idea. You like money, and you like sex. I'm not really seeing a downside. I mean, it's your body, so you get to do what you want with it. But I wouldn't judge you if it was this. I mean you don't have to sleep with them even! Swindle them for their money; I know you're a charmer. You might not even have to go as far as sex. I mean, unless you want to. Again, your body, my dude."

"Why do you even want me to do this? Shouldn't you want me to stay on a legal path? Be the voice of reason? Isn't that what this whole nerdy good girl thing you got going for?" Steve returned to the bar while he spoke and started preparing a drink. Although he was protesting and acting offended by the idea, it wasn't actually a terrible proposition. Steve had done worse for less, and he had a lot of respect for those in the industry. It was just, he didn't get why Robin was pushing it. It was Steve's instinct to be mistrustful. People didn't offer things to him, especially very illegal ones, unless they wanted to gain something or get something against him.

"No, I don't want to be your pimp. Can't a girl offer some life advice to her helpless coworker? Besides, I'd be a hypocrite if I told you not to earn money illegally. Considering my side-gigs." Robin walked around the bar to stand directly in front of Steve. She placed her elbows on the wood and her head in her hands. She looked sincere, and that's when it hit Steve.

"First off, we are coming back to the side-gig thing—"

"We most definitely are not." Robin quipped.

"Second, I think I get it now. You're worried about me. We're friends, and you're worried about me."

"Take it back."

"No, no. You, Robin Buckley, care about me."

Robin shuttered, "We are not friends, James. And I am not worried. I simply became too invested in your pathetic life; my apologies." She started to lean back from the bar but Steve put the drink down and caught her by her elbows.

"If you admit we're friends, and that you're worried about me, I'll think about your idea." Steve gave her elbows a light squeeze.

Robin caved instantaneously, "Fine, you dingus! We're friends. I care about you! Despite my best efforts, your stupid face and jokes are incredibly endearing, and you always cheer me up on bad days. And every day here is a bad day. And I'm worried about you because you look like you're going to run every five seconds, and every time it's a shitty tip night, you deep sigh. And dammit, you're the only person I like here, and if you go at this point, so do I."

Steve felt himself blink back tears. Robin, in all her rambling glory, had managed to give him one of the best speeches he's ever heard. Steve hadn't had anyone care about him like this in, well, ever. It was a welcomed devastation.

Steve tugged her into a bone-crushing hug. Their stomachs pressed against the bar, the wood digging into their hips. "I'm gonna do it."

"Yea? You really don't have to. We can figure something else out. I would teach you how to hack, but I don't think you'd be very good at it." Robin let out a wet laugh.

Steve let her go and shrugged. "Nah, it's a good idea. And honestly sounds like a bit of fun. Swindling the wealthy into giving to the poor. Well, giving to me. But I count as poor currently."

Robin smiled, "Only if you're sure, dingus."

"I am. Now—" Steve pushed the drink with a bar business card that he wrote his name and number on underneath. "—go take this to money bags over there."

Robin grabs the card and throws it at him. "You can't give your real name and number, dummy. For now, I'm gonna give him my side gig number until you can get your own. All we need is a name." She grabbed a new card and wrote down the digits.

Steve took the pen from her and looked around the bar for inspiration. He jotted down the first thing that came to mind. "Here ya go."

Robin looked down and choked on a laugh. "You can't be serious."

"Deadly."

Robin rolled her eyes one last time before picking up the drink. "We will think of a better one later. But I guess for now; I'll deliver this to your first client, Cherry."

Steve knew then, and there he and Robin were for life.

________

Boston, Massachusetts

It was at this moment Steve was trying to picture how Robin would react to how majorly he fucked up. Considering she had already warned him about the dangers of Tommy Hagan's friendship, Steve didn't have to think too hard. Robin had always been good at that, calling him on his bullshit before it even happened. Steve could hear her voice in his head saying,

This is what happens when you play with fire Dingus.

Steve wondered if he'd ever get to hear her voice in person again.

"What kind of deal?" Steve asked before throwing himself to the wolves. Though he was sure his life was on the line, he couldn't just say yes to whatever Eddie asked. He didn't want to die, but he also had to consider that there were people he cared about in this world. Steve wouldn't put them at risk, even if it meant his own well-being.

In retrospect, he should have reevaluated the list of people he cared about, considering one was the reason he was here in the first place.

Eddie leaned back against the booth, stretched his arms across the back of it, and let out a dark chuckle. "Well, for starters, I'm going to need that bag back. That's the easy part. Considering it's mine anyway. Although, it does seem a bit light there. Why is that sweetness?"

Steve could feel himself go pale. God, Tommy had fucked fucked him. He was starting to consider that it was even a setup. He didn't peg Hagan for being that smart, though. "It's only half. Tommy took the other half with him when I met up with him. I'm so supposed to keep the other half safe for a few weeks, then bring it to him."

Eddie raised his eyebrows, "Pretty forthcoming, aren't we? Thought I'd have to push a bit more to break ya. Now I'm not sure if I even want to offer you the rest of the deal. Don't particularly like working with snitches."

Steve tried not to let out a frustrated growl. Charm, he had to charm Eddie. He was making it hard for Steve. "I'm not a snitch; I just don't see the point in covering for someone who obviously fucked me."

Eddie put his hands up in mock surrender, "Woah there, sweetness. Didn't mean to touch a nerve. I'm only having a bit of fun. You'll let me have my fun, won't you? Considering you made me stop my hard work in the middle of the day to deal with you?" Although Eddie smiled as he spoke, Steve could tell he wasn't happy. Steve decided to be smart and stay silent. "Now tell me, where and when did you meet him? And when and where were you meeting up again?"

Steve gritted his teeth, "What's the rest of the deal?"

"What's that?" Eddie ticked his head to the side.

"I'm not going to tell you anything else if I don't know what I'm getting out of it or what I need to do to get to the finish line. So, What's the rest of the deal?"

"You're a clever one, aren't you? I'm not surprised, actually, considering the sort of bravery it takes to steal from me." Steve noted in his head that Eddie said bravery and not stupidity. He tucked it away for later. "Fine, considering you've been forthcoming so far, I'll be kind and lay all the cards on the table. On one condition."

Steve gave up on being charming. He knew it was getting him nowhere. "Deal for a deal? Seems a bit convoluted, don't ya think?"

"Ooo, bitchy and knows big words? Full of surprises. I promise you this one is an easy one. Should you choose the right path, no harm will come your way Padalin. Well, none that you don't ask for, at least." A wicked grin spread across Eddie's face.

"Get to the point."

"You know I'd have a man's head at this point for that kind of talk. Fortunately bitchy looks good on you. Anyway, the condition is this. Tell me your name, sweetness. I think it's rude that I gave you my name and I don't have yours."

"Well I didn't ask for yours and like you said earlier, I don't think introductions were necessary."

Eddie gave Steve an unamused eyebrow; his patience was wearing thin.

Steve was buying time, he wasn't sure what name to give him. He wasn't stupid; he couldn't exactly give him his real name. He couldn't just tell him, Steve. For one, he was in Boston. A slip of the first name means a slip of the last. And besides coming back to Boston in the first place, that would be the absolute dumbest thing he'd ever do if he were to let that slip. Steve was well aware the Harrington name hadn't grown kinder over the years.

The other reason was if he were to give him his real name, Eddie would suddenly have access to his entire life in an instant. His story, his crimes, his weaknesses. Steve was sure that Eddie had his very own Robin, although he doubted they were any good since Steve had the best, but even a raccoon with access to Google could find him.

So Steve had to think. What name could he give him? He thought about the hundreds of alias he had over the years. Some of them are more thought out than others. Like Mark Odom, who was a sales rep just down on his luck at the horse tracks and just needed a bit of insider information for a win. He had a family to feed, after all.

Or there was the ones with less background, like Cherry, who didn't even have a last name. He was just a good disguise for Steve when he wanted to swindle money out of higher-profile men.

Those aliases, no matter the depths of their stories, were too used, too frequented, too recent. They had a history that could be traced. Steve thought of possibly starting a whole new alias for Eddie. But those took time. A quick lie in the moment was easy, but Steve had a deep feeling nothing about his interactions with Eddie would be quick.

Eddie looked at him expectantly, waiting. It had only been a few seconds since Steve had last spoke, but between the two of them, it felt like hours. It felt as though Steve was losing the game and fast.

An idea sprung on Steve suddenly. An old name he used once. It was a name thrust upon him more like, but he had only used it once. He was sure Eddie would catch onto it being fake, but Steve hoped that the man's affinity for nicknames let it slide.

"Angel. The name is Angel."

"Angel." Eddie deadpanned. "Angel, what? No last name?"

"No last name." Steve shook his head.

Eddie rubbed a hand down his face, "That's what you're going with? You really expect me to believe that?"

"It's all you're gonna get."

Eddie stared at Steve momentarily before a playful smile edged at his lips. "Alright, I'll bite. Angel, it is, for now. Just don't expect the truth to stay hidden for long. You see, I always get my way in the end. Okay, Angel?" Eddie's eyes penetrated Steve's, and silence again hung in the air.

"Okay." Steve believed Eddie. He secretly hoped he wouldn't be around the man long enough to see how quickly he got his way.

"Good. Now here's the deal Angel." Eddie emphasized Steve's name in mockery. "You give me the half you have under the table. That's been established so far. Then you are going to help me get the rest of the money back and get me a little chat with your good pal Hagan."

Steve opened his mouth to protest the idea of him and Tommy being good pals, but shut it before he could make the situation for himself worse. Probably better for himself to not push his luck.

"That's the easy part," Eddie continued. He leaned forward, taking his arms off the back of the shredded booth, and used his hand to grip Steve's chin. The grip was firm but not painful as he pulled Steve forward. It was as if he was trying to prove a point, trying to prove that Eddie was the one in control, prove that he didn't want to hurt Steve, just put him in his place. "The hard part of the deal is this. You see, it's not easy to steal from me. And yet, here you are. You've made it much further than others have. And that is a skill not many possess. And right now, I could use that."

Steve visibly swallowed. He was trying not to let this man get to him. It felt impossible with Eddie's hand on him and their proximity. It had been so long since Steve had been this close to someone, so intimately, without the illusion of the game. Sure, there was an imminent threat over Steve's head, but he couldn't shut off the part of his brain that kind of liked it. Steve had to push away the desire to breathe in all that was Eddie. Steve decided to blame these uncontrollable thoughts on the fact he hadn't gotten laid since Seattle over a month ago.

Not because he felt attracted to the man who was actively threatening him. That would be insane.

"How do you suppose I do that?" Steve licked his lips and didn't break eye contact with Eddie.

"I have a list. A list of people who have wronged me. Who has stolen from me, in one form or another? Usually, I'd have them taken care of, but I don't think they deserve such an easy out. I think I need to make a statement. I think they should be given exactly what they've taken. They bit the hand that fed them after all." Eddie squeezed Steve's chin lightly. It once again caused no pain, but it grounded Steve. Sent a silent reminder of who was in control.

"Big believer in karma, then? Wouldn't have taken you for the type." Steve pushed out a weak laugh. Eddie stared at him a moment before releasing him, sitting back into his original position.

Eddie's lip tilted slightly, "Maybe I am. Do we have a deal?"

Steve snorted, "That's it? You're not going to tell me more? No reason why, no, what do I need to do? Kind of feels like I'm getting the shit end of the stick here."

In the corner of his eye, Steve saw one of Eddie's men move when he raised his voice. It made Steve stop abruptly, shrinking back into his seat. Eddie waved his henchman to stand down. "No, you don't get more. And beggers can't be choosers, can they?"

" 'Suppose not."

"Good boy. Now, do we have a deal?" Eddie stuck his hand out for Steve to shake.

Steve had to suppress his reaction once again. Eddie had to be testing him at this point. Good boy would be seared into his brain forever. A brand of how dangerous this man was to him.!Steve looked down at the rough, veiny hands. "On one condition."

Eddie barked out a laugh, "You know you really like pushing your luck, Angel. It's like you have a deathwish. You aren't exactly in the position to make demands, hasn't that been clear? You're lucky you are so goddamn interesting. So, once again, I'll bite."

"I get to veto someone, no questions asked, if I don't want to do it." Steve thought about how many enemies he had here in Boston. How many people he had no desire to run into? He needed to make sure most, if not all of them, never crossed paths with him again. Steve knew it was a long shot to ask of this. It defeated the whole purpose of helping Eddie if he was allowed to say no. They both knew this. And yet, Steve held out hope.

Eddie hummed to himself for a moment before answering. "You get one."

Steve whipped his head towards Eddie in shock. "What?"

"I'll give you one veto. No questions asked. But that's it. Once you use it, it's gone."

Steve knew when to not look a gift horse in the mouth. "Okay, deal." Steve stuck his hand out for Eddie to grab. Steve tried not to shutter when Eddie's warm hand engulfed his own. The smoothness of his rings and the callouses on his palms contradicted each other and send a delicious thrill down Steve's spine.

Yeah, Steve was fucked.

"Deal, Angel." Eddie slid out of the booth, and his men made to follow him. "Now, if I am correct, you're currently staying at the rundown motel on 3rd? Well, Ben here—" Eddie gestured to the eager henchman from earlier "—will follow you to the motel to collect your things. Then he's going to take you to the room I paid for you at the Palace Hotel. Where he, and a rotation of other people, will be standing guard outside your door 24/7."

"What? Don't trust me?" Steve tried to lighten the apparent tension.

"Oh, not in the slightest, Angel. Trust you just about as much as I can throw you." Eddie slid dark sunglasses on before walking up to the door. "Looking forward to chatting again. I think this will be a good thing for us both, sweetheart."

Eddie walked out without looking back, taking most of his men with him. Ben stayed behind, glaring daggers at Steve's head.

Steve couldn't help but feel a shift in the tide; he would be returning to this moment for the rest of his life. He knew there was no coming back from this, and even if there was, Robin would kill him anyway.

Steve looked down at his milkshake, it was fucking melted.

***

has it been a month since I posted the first part? Yes. Yes it has. Please don't murder me. It has been hectic, I got a new job which means I work two now and I got sick. I finally had some time to start working on this. I also wanted to actually plan this out, make an outline, since yes you guessed it…

it’s going to be a long fic.

As you can tell these parts are really long, so I’m thinking about just posting on ao3, and maybe putting previews on here. Unless you guys want it also fully here. Let me know! :)

I’m so excited for this thank you all for your patience. You can access part one here and ao3 here.

also if I tagged you and you didn’t want to be tagged let me know! some reblogs seemed interested in a part 2 but didn’t mention it specifically but I tried to tag you if I could!

tag list:

@zaphodkilledthespeedforce @a-new-kind-of-blue @hexdbog @krayzee11 @heaven428 @ppunkpuppyy @stxcrossed186 @grtwdsmwhr @pheonixashtree @plasticcrotches @sillysparrow @enterprizing @vi-an-te @minimal23 @romances-sans-paroles @whalesharksart @gregre369 @lollydo@imagayfuck @stevesworldxx @renaissan-vvitch @aroseandherthorns @impeachy @aellafreya @smailaway @cmackz93 @lawrence-b-shaggoth @cata-t0n1c @kylizzles @exo-l4life @shucks-yuckyuck @swaghettoni @goosesister @chaotiovingdreamer @inmoonywetrust @tis-the-smallest-fry @croatoan-like-its-hot @escapingthereality @absurdityaddiction @kit-means-death @anzelsilverr @aziazure @alienthings @obsessivereaderchick @lets-try-to-be-normal-otakus @toobusytobebored @samgelina-jolie

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s46856084 · 6 months

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Chic Utility: Gucci Belt Bags Collection in the USA | The Luxury Closet

Discover the perfect fusion of style and practicality with Gucci Belt Bags, exclusively available in the USA at The Luxury Closet. Explore our curated collection of women's handbags, featuring iconic Gucci designs that redefine fashion and functionality. Elevate your everyday look with the chic utility of the Gucci belt bag, making a statement wherever you go.

#Gucci Belt bag #women's Gucci belt bags

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designersneakerss · 1 year

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Gucci Shoes On Sale

Shop the latest Gucci shoes on sale and indulge in luxury for less. Explore a wide selection of discounted styles, from sneakers to heels, and step up your fashion game.

#gucci shoes on sale #Gucci Sneakers for men #Gucci Sneakers #gucci belt women size chart #Gucci Belts for Women #gucci leather belts for men #gucci designer belts men #genuine leather gucci belt men #Gucci Belts for Men #gucci belt for sale near me #gucci belt price

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frenchjeans · 1 year

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#jeans #french #sexy #women #belt #brown #leather #boots #black #gucci

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womenofwrestlingfashion · 5 months

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Smackdown 1/26/24

Elektra wore the Your Girl Faux Leather Jumpsuit from Fashion Nova (sold out), Leather Belt with Double G Buckle from Gucci ($740) & Afirasean Combat Ankle Boot from Aldo (on sale $129.98)

#elektra lopez #Karissa Rivera #Your Girl Faux Leather Jumpsuit #jumpsuit #jumpsuits #Leather Belt with Double G Buckle #belt #belts #Gucci #Afirasean Combat Ankle Boot #boot #boots #Aldo #women of wrestling fashion #wwe #smackdown

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rebeccaplaysthesims · 1 year

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Best Chanel Sims 4 CC

Some of my favourite Chanel CC! If you like this listicle, check out the list of Gucci CC, the list of LV CC, the list of infant CC, and the list of infant poses! As with all of my other listicles, I intend to update periodically.

Note: as always, I am not listing content by Platinum Luxury Sims - they get their own special shoutout here as the #1 source of luxury Sims CC.

WOMEN

TWICE-The Feels Cheerleader Uniform

Lovely Heart Button Denim Twopiece & Earring

Pearl Velvet Sleeveless Dress & Bold Earring

Pearl Button Tweed & Velvet Twopiece & Pearl Earring

Ribbon Brooch Pearl Cardigan & Flared short Skirt

Ruffle Dress & Earring Set

Chain Earring & Necklace & Chain Strap Tight Dress

Brooch & Ribbed Frill Tight Dress

Unique Suit Set & Beret

Swimwear Collection

Crop Shirts & Chain Belt & Short Skirt

Underwear & Jacket & Pants

Brooch Off-shoulder Dress (Remake Ver.)

Hipsack & Jacket Dress

Short-sleeved Collar T-shirt & Check Short Pleats Skirt

Cubic button Puff Blouse & Belt Frill Short Jeans

Ribbon Belt Frill Dress

BigBelt JumpSuit

Ribbon Frill Tweed Twopiece

Frill Logo T-shirts & Check Short Skirt

Frill Crop Knit Top & Belt & Tight Pants

HAPPY NEW YEAR Party Mini Dress

Tweed Twopiece

Scarf & Off-shoulder Tight Dress

Heart Neck Suit Dress

Printed Puff sleeve Dress

Brooch & Puff sleeve Twopiece Set

Ice Cream “Jennie’s” Outfit

Frill Cardigan & Sleeveless Dress & Hair Scrunchy

NO.5 Brooch & Ribbon Blouse Dress

Brooch & Blouse & Knit Vest & Flared Skirt

Scarf Suit Jacket & Pants & Beret

Belt off-shoulder Dress

Sexy Strap Monokini

Velvet Puff sleeve Dress & Spangle Bustier

Brooch & Knit Cardigan & Belt Knit Skirt

Button Ribbon Knit Dress

Chic Dress

Crop Sweatshirt & Logo Leggings

Frill Jacket & Flared Skirt

CHANEL BOUTIQUE

Cropped Hoodie

90s Chanel Collection

COLLECTION CHANEL

COLLECTION CHANEL (two)

Catsuit with a transparent blouse

High / Low Boots Set

Chanel set 2.2

tweed jacket dress & ACC 22.69

Taeyeon Weekend

knit vest skirt

summer jacket tennis skirt set

Heart Dress

Ribbon Dress

KIDS

Outfit (hat, dress, shoes, socks) for toddlers

Mom & Daughter Couple look

DECOR

Le Boy Hand Bag Decor

Inglot Makeup Brushes | Beauty Blender

ACCESSORIES

Earrings

Don’t forget to follow me if you like these listicles, as more are to come! CC Listicles to come include Dior, Miu Miu, Dolce & Gabbana, Prada, Off White, and more.

#chanel #chanel cc #coco chanel #cc #custom content #sims #sims 4 #the sims #sims 4 cc #sims 4 custom content #rebeccaplaysthesimslink

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cheesybadgers · 8 months

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Out West, the Gay Cowboy Roams Free

The frontier has long been a symbol of American masculinity. Now a rising generation of artists are creating a new queer mythology.

The gay cowboy ensemble — Manu Rios (from left), José Condessa, Jason Fernández and George Steane — from Pedro Almodóvar’s “Strange Way of Life” (2023), photographed in Madrid on July 12, 2023. From left: Y/Project shirt, about $715, yproject.fr; and Cartier ring, $3,700, cartier.com. Loewe shirt, showpiece only, and jeans, $990, loewe.com. Gucci T-shirt, $590, gucci.com; Levi’s jeans, $98, levis.com; and stylist’s own belt. Gucci shirt, $2,100, and jeans, $1,300.Credit...Photograph by Carlota Guerrero. Styled by Alicia Padrón

By Evan Moffitt

Published Sept. 5, 2023 Updated Sept. 27, 2023

TWO MEN, A grizzled sheriff and a gunslinging vigilante, confront each other in a dusty saloon town. It’s a scene familiar from countless western films, but in Pedro Almodóvar’s new short, “Strange Way of Life,” in theaters next month, only a few minutes elapse before the two characters end up in bed together. When Silva (Pedro Pascal) visits his former lover Jake (Ethan Hawke), he rekindles their romance before revealing less amorous intentions. Intrigue ensues, and the shock of two gay cowboys gives way to what we might expect from a classic western: shootouts, horseback chases, fugitive justice. Almodóvar’s second film in English forgoes the melodrama for which he is best known, adhering instead to genre traditions, so “the interrupted and then resumed love story between these two men will be taken more seriously,” the 73-year-old Spanish director says.

In America, as Almodóvar knows, cowboys are serious business. They might be our national paragon of masculinity: Generations of American boys were taught that real men should have the swagger of the Marlboro Man and the gruff voice of John Wayne. But like so many aspects of gender, those were just performances. This is partly why over the decades many queer artists have made winking references to cowboy culture. By homing in on make-believe and dress up, they’ve deflated some of its homophobia-tinged machismo — and even sometimes turned it into an object of horny fun. Campy versions of the Lone Ranger’s costume appear in explicit photographs by Bob Mizer from the 1950s that were distributed in physique pictorials, a forerunner of gay porn magazines. In 1965, Andy Warhol directed some friends in a western-themed striptease for his film “Horse”; three years later, he released “Lonesome Cowboys,” a drunken romp among five gay gauchos, a madam and a cross-dressing sheriff. Then there was the gay disco troupe the Village People’s dime-store cowboy, Randy Jones, who was meant to be read as a tongue-in-cheek archetype (one since referenced by musicians like Lil Nas X and Orville Peck).

Oscar yi Hou’s “Coolieisms, a.k.a.: The Fugitive (John Chinaman)” (2023). Photo: Evan Sheldon. Courtesy of the artist, 12.26, Dallas, Los Angeles, and James Fuentes, New York, Los Angeles

While such appropriations subvert the straightness of cowboy culture, they also highlight its latent homoeroticism. From cattle drives to prisons to navy ships, men will often have sex with each other when there aren’t any women around. Western films in particular are spectacles of rowdy male bonding on the open range, where a lot can happen after a drink or three. There’s palpable sexual tension in the 1969 buddy drama “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid” and the 1959 classic “Warlock,” from which Almodóvar took inspiration. In the 1970s, men in urban gay enclaves began wearing Stetsons and bandannas color-coded to indicate their sexual proclivities. These gestures weren’t entirely ironic; they also reclaimed a masculinity that gay men were told they lacked.

As lone riders in a land characterized as empty and lawless, cowboys were also a perfect symbol for queers seeking to liberate and reinvent themselves. Such is the fragile hope of “Brokeback Mountain,” the 2005 blockbuster (which Almodóvar turned down an offer to direct) that was adapted into a West End play earlier this year. Its portrayal of a doomed love affair between two male shepherds was groundbreaking in many ways, but its presentation of the West as somewhere white, masculine men might be safe to explore their desires for each other without ever having to run into anyone else — including a person of color — mostly followed conventional tropes.

Kenneth Tam’s “Rabbit” (2022). Courtesy of the artist and Commonwealth and Council, Los Angeles, Mexico City © Kenneth Tam. Photo documentation: Ian Byers-Gamber

NEARLY 20 YEARS later, several younger artists and filmmakers are developing a more nuanced vision of queerness in the American West, with particular emphasis on the country’s changing race and gender dynamics. This builds on past efforts by writers, artists and filmmakers like Kahlil Joseph and Chandra McCormick to celebrate the many nonwhite cowboys who have always been an essential part of American life.

“National Anthem,” a feature film written and directed by the Los Angeles photographer Luke Gilford that premiered at South by Southwest in March, chronicles queer rodeos and ranches in the Southwest. Many of the movie’s diverse characters and the actors who play them identify as trans. Notably, while the plot hinges on relatable, everyday dramas (jealousy in open relationships, the pain of a first heartbreak), homophobia and transphobia are mostly absent — a reminder that queer life needn’t be defined by a culture that oppresses it.

The frontier has always been a place where people have come to live on their own terms. At the turn of the 20th century, the trans huckster Harry Allen was a notorious outlaw in the Pacific Northwest. Hundreds of newspaper reports from the era reveal that trans cowboys weren’t uncommon in the West, even if they’re absent from official accounts. When the 32-year-old artist Gray Wielebinski was growing up in Dallas, he saw 10-gallon hats and boots as the marks of a fantastical machismo that belonged as much to him as to cisgender men. In 2022, the trans-masc artist erected a mechanical bull at Bold Tendencies, an arts organization that stages shows on the roof of a disused South London parking structure, where visitors were invited to take a ride that, like sex, was brief but ecstatic. The bull bucked in a ring of fencing set with stained-glass panels that recalled gay bars and public cruising sites, which Wielebinski notes are at risk of disappearing because of gentrification. In his work, the cowboy is a tragic figure professionally endangered by commercial ranching, making him an analogue to the queer establishments that have closed in recent years.

Rafa Esparza’s “Al Tempo” (2021). Courtesy of the artist and Commonwealth and Council, Los Angeles, Mexico City

“Cowboys only live in a sense as myth,” says Nora Burnett Abrams, a director at the Denver Museum of Contemporary Art, which will open the expansive exhibition “Cowboy” this month. “But you also have this lived experience of contemporary cowboy life and a culture far more diverse not just in terms of identity but also labor and function.” A new installation and video by the artists Rafa Esparza, 41, and Fabian Guerrero, 35, will document the queer cowboy bars popular among Mexican and Central American immigrants throughout the Southwestern United States. Esparza’s 2021 diptych “Al Tempo,” painted on adobe, distills one such scene: gay Latino couples in sombreros dancing under the soft lights of Club Tempo, an East Hollywood institution. Esparza, who grew up in nearby East Pasadena, visited the venue for the first time in the late 1990s. “I remember thinking, ‘My dad or my uncles could very well be here, and I wouldn’t be able to set them apart from everyone else,’” he recalls. “It felt like a beautiful, queer version of what my family members have striven to preserve of their life back in Mexico.”

The dreamy scenes in the Austin, Texas-based 34-year-old artist RF. Alvarez’s paintings, which were on view at Alanna Miller Gallery in Manhattan through June, on the other hand, are mostly imagined. White and Latino men dine outdoors and lie naked in bed together. Cowboy hats abound: in a self-portrait of the artist wearing nothing but white briefs and in a still life hanging above a wardrobe beside a silhouetted portrait of a gay male couple. The paintings are a kind of reclamation — of history, but also of space. “There is no place for me in the West,” Alvarez says. “But multitudes can exist.”

RF. Alvarez’s “Luncheon on the Pasture” (2022). Courtesy of the artist and Taymour Grahne Projects

OTHER ARTISTS ARE mining time instead of place, looking at the past for clues to the inner queer lives of those who have been removed from most historical accounts of the West. In the artist Kenneth Tam’s 2021 film, “Silent Spikes,” also included in the Denver show, Asian American men in cowboy garb pose and dance in front of a purple backdrop, intercut with footage of railroad tunnels dug by Chinese immigrant workers in the 1860s. The piece imagines what kinds of relationships might have formed among these laborers, who were treated brutally and paid poorly. “I wanted to think about how their bodies must have felt against one another’s in that space, working together in close proximity,” says Tam, who is straight but whose work, he adds, is concerned with homosocial dynamics. Scant evidence of the Chinese laborers’ lives has survived, so Tam’s vision of them as queer cowboys becomes a speculative attempt to complete the record.

Stills from the film were on display this summer in “The Range,” an exhibition at 12.26 Gallery in Dallas that likewise explored cowboy iconography. There, they hung near paintings by Oscar yi Hou, 24, a British-born, New York-based artist whose works are replete with clichéd signifiers of Asian and American identity, including cowboy hats and details from the Japanese anime series “Dragon Ball Z.” His solo exhibition at the Brooklyn Museum, which closes later this month, includes a self-portrait of the artist as a muscled, pickax-wielding miner, his pose modeled on a 1970s flyer for the Manhattan gay bar the Mineshaft, referencing both cruising culture and those same railway workers. Another buff Chinese laborer appears in a black leather bondage mask and cowboy hat in “Coolieisms, a.k.a.: Leather Daddy’s Highbinder Odalisque” (2022) — the series’ title riffing on a slur for immigrants from Asia — holding his long braid like a whip.

The work is “about the American cult of masculinity and rugged individualism ... conquering the ‘uncivilized West’ — and how this gender ideology dovetails with American expansionism,” says yi Hou. The raw sexual power of his subjects refutes stereotypes of Asian masculinity while offering a fantasy about how the Chinese men who literally built the West might have explored their own desires. In challenging the outdated image of the cowboy as a white, cisgender macho man, clearing the land in the name of racial purity, they suggest that America’s national mythology can be made to speak for everyone in it — that the West is more expansive after all.

Hair by Olga Holovanova at Another Agency using GHD. Makeup by Lucas Margarit at Another Agency using Dior Beauty. Set design by Cito Ballesta. Photo assistant: Guillermo Tejedor. Stylist’s assistant: Irene Monje. Produced by Alana Productions SL

#Cowboys #Queer cowboys #Gay cowboys #Cowboy art #Queer art #Gay art #LGBTQ+#LGBTQ #LGBTQ media #Strange Way of Life #Pedro Almodóvar #Pedro Pascal #Ethan Hawke

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