#celebrity reader insert

It had been a week since you broke up with your most recent boyfriend, another dude who just reinforced that the world was made up of assholes. This one had been good. He’d been sweet. But you were a bit prickly, some sarcasm and cynicism in there, but he’d been accepting. Six months later you found out not so much. During an argument he’d admitted how depressing you were, how truly a downer you were. It had hurt and stung. And when someone suggested going back online for dating? Well. Online dating was a cesspool of ‘show me ur tits’ and ‘fuck you anyway’ when you didn’t answer. It felt useless.

And you weren’t exactly dressed to impress today, wearing your old Captain America t-shirt with a couple rips and some paint stains. He’d always been a favorite but this was your comfort shirt, whether it looked that way or not. And hell, you needed comfort.

The joke of course, the one your friend had texted you, was that you were destined to be the crazy cat lady. And wasn’t it perfect that you were in line for ice cream at Bedford Farms, one of the more famous ice cream shops in the greater Boston area. It was mostly dead, Wednesday at 2pm not really a time of day most kids or adults flooded the shop in Concord. But you’d wanted comfort food and had insisted on only the best.

Standing at the counter, ignoring your phone now, you smiled at the teen likely working some money to save for college, “Small Mississippi Mud please, and a pint of it to go as well,” you lifted the stay-cold bag onto the counter, watching as the woman went to work. You’d noticed a man standing behind you but hadn’t thought much of it. Probably another one of the many either out of your league or taken. His head was low with sunglasses on, and he’d looked weirdly familiar.

Whatever.

You ignored the judgey kind of looks as they scooped the ice cream, hearing the man behind you, “Rough day?”

You rolled your eyes, of course he’d ask. You half-turned your head at the again weirdly familiar voice, “Aren’t they all?”

Ah, there was that dark humor, the one the man had left you because of. Sighing at yourself you frowned internally and took the ice cream as it was overloaded, as always, the delicious benefit of Bedford Farms. Turning, you hadn’t realized the man was trying to pass you on your left and you had turned sharply, bumping into the white t-shirt and creating a full-on spill with your cup.

“Jesus christ mother fucker!” You yelled, cursing as the ice cream hit the floor, watching as the man scrambled for napkins. But he didn’t seem mad.

No, this man was weirdly apologetic, “Oh, god, I’m so sorry! That’s on me!” He wiped at your shirt, handing you the napkins as the woman behind the counter appeared to grin, handing water as well, “Let me get that, please, I’m sorry. Least it’s on an old shirt?”

“It’s my favorite!” You snapped, not realizing your tone, though pausing to see he’d spilled the chocolate on his white shirt as well, “Fuck, I’m so sorry, you got it on your white shirt… it’s just, this is my favorite shirt. Not your fault, I’m sorry, too,” you looked at him, probably for the first time, before realizing you had crashed straight into Chris Evans.

It was like a lightbulb. And not a total shocker, either. It shouldn’t have been. He lived in the area and this was a popular spot. The girls behind the counter had seen him before and gotten over their ooing and awwing. Now you were frozen as he smiled, “Favorite shirt? Yeah, Cap’s my favorite too.” He had pushed up his sunglasses by now and was smiling, a soft smile that made you melt more than the ice cream on the floor.

Now you were flustered as fuck, “Oh, oh my god, of course I’d spill ice cream on Chris Evans,” you winced, tossing out the napkins as the last was cleaned up.

He grinned, nodding his head, “Could be worse. Could have been RDJ. He’s a stickler about his clothes,” he winked playfully, “Now let me be a gentleman and buy you a new ice cream. Can’t have you leaving without it. Wouldn’t be very superhero-ish of me not to. Especially not even knowing your name.” His smile froze you, and you nodded, watching in a weird stupor as Chris Evans bought you a new ice cream, this time in a waffle cone.

He bought his own, White River Junction, and insisted you sit with him, “Yours won’t melt. C’mon, you look like you need someone to sit with. No offense, but a response of saying all your days are rough deserves an ear.”

The man was a real-life superhero, you thought to yourself as you got seated at a table near the back, closer to where the train tracks were. You’d already begun to dig into the ice cream when he came over, speaking through a stuffed mouth, “I’m Y/N. And thanks for the ice cream. And the company. You didn’t have to do that,” you were somewhat muffled.

I wonder if she knows how cute she is, Chris thought to himself as he smiled, taking a bite of his own favorite flavor and savoring the little indulgence he was allowed through all his training, “But I wanted to. Plus now your favorite Captain America shirt can have a Captain America story to go with it,” he laughed a little.

You couldn’t help but smile, one of the first real smiles you’d had and felt in some time. This sweet man was sitting with you eating ice cream like it was the most casual thing in the world, “Well, I doubt most people would believe I actually bumped into Chris Evans to have ice cream,” you smirked.

Without hesitation he reached into his pocket and withdrew his phone, making a motion for you to lean across the table, “I’d tell you to make a cute face, but I have a feeling they’re all cute,” he smirked.

You laughed nervously, leaning in with a spoon and holding it up with a smile as he used his spare hand to playfully dig into your ice cream, taking a shot. When he was done, he actually did take a bite, grinning, “Peanut butter is my favorite. And now they’ll believe you.” Eating the spoonful, you followed his lead and took a bite of his, feeling weirdly natural about doing this was someone so… astounding as Chris Evans.

When he turned back, smirking as you went back to your food he nodded, “You follow me on Instagram?”

You shrugged, pausing the eating of your ice cream, “I’m not huge on social media. I see some of my favorite folks from time to time, you included,” you blushed, “but it’s hard to keep up. Didn’t even know you were in the area,” you shrugged, taking another bite.

He laughed, “Well, you may want to check my Instagram. Feel free to tag yourself. Clearly I don’t know yours,” he grinned.

Taking out your phone (and quickly closing the crazy cat lady image) you brought up the social media app, one of many, and found his. It was a cute shot, to be sure, with a caption, “Saving the day with ice cream and a ‘sweet’ Bostonian! Can’t ever miss Bedford Farms on a trip home!”  The caption made you smile, though the fact that he hadn’t called you a ‘fan’ made you smile harder. He was being coy, you knew that, and so you liked it and tagged yourself, commenting, ”Least I don’t stain my white shirts. Just my Cap ones.” You realized he still had the chocolate on his shirt, something he’d likely given up on. Besides, the man could afford a new shirt.

He chuckled, clearly reading your comment, shaking his head, “Well, now your friends will believe you sat and had ice cream with Captain America. Happy?”

God, you have no fucking idea you’d thought to yourself as he smiled, that brown stain on his shirt making you feel a little bad, but not even noticing the giggling girls behind the counter that had never seen Chris like this in his minor indulgences into the ice cream. Normally he was in and out, but you never knew. No, this man, this sweet, kind man, had pulled you from another one of your funks just by being himself.

“Yeah, more than before. Thinking I may not need the ice cream in my bag,” you said, almost flirtatiously, finishing off the one you had eaten.

Were you not so absorbed in the moment you would have realized you’d made Chris blush. He had blushed at the idea that he had made your day better so much so that you didn’t even need to mope and watch Avengers for the fifteenth time. Your own favorite hero, the man who acted in movies you’d loved beyond just Marvel ones, the man who had seemed so kind and genuine, had made your entire day. And just by sitting with you eating ice cream.

But he had places to go, right? They always did. These famous types didn’t have time for you and your miserable life becoming the crazy cat lady. Even if he had just made your day in ways you couldn’t really describe. Chris had stepped in and swept you off your feet, just briefly.

Collecting your things, you smiled, “Thanks so much for this, Chris. It really meant a lot to me. I know you’ve probably got a lot going on.” You stood, slinging your bag over your shoulder and carrying the ice bag that was keeping your delicious treat cold until you could get home, which wasn’t too far.

He looked nervous, quickly getting up as well, “Hey uh, listen. I’m in town for a while, nice break and all that, and if you’re OK with it, I’d really like to take you out, maybe for dinner? Get to know the real Y/N and not just the one having a bad day in an ice cream shop,” he smiled warmly.

It was disarming, hearing him ask, and for a moment you were stuttering, trying to think of what to say and how to respond, GIVE HIM YOUR DAMN NUMBER, Y/N!  your inner voice cried hysterically, stomping as you managed to put on a small smile, “Dinner would be nice. I’ve got the day off, so whenever works. I should give you my number,” you reached out for his phone.

Surprisingly, Chris was just as flustered, stumbling as he withdrew his phone and unlocked it, opening it to the phonebook section and adding your name, taking a ridiculous quick selfie as you saved it and handed it back, “It’s under Y/F/N in there, so just text me when you’re ready and I can give you my address. Just change your shirt before then,” you smiled and winked, shocked at your sudden bravery.

Turning, you moved out the door to your car, leaving a lovestruck Chris Evans behind to absorb what had happened. A true Boston girl had just caught him by surprise and she was the cutest, most gorgeous thing around without even knowing it. How could you? If you could have heard the overwhelming voice in Chris’ head, you might have been shocked.

As it was, you were getting yourself together to head home, suddenly more aware than ever of the texts coming in on your phone and hoping that Chris wouldn’t be far behind.

Guess the ice cream wouldn’t be necessary at all. Now to be ready for Chris.

When you first met Seb it was like hitting a brick wall the way he was just suddenly a part of your life. Like he was always meant to be there. He was so funny and kind and genuine. He got you out of your mind and showed you that you were worth more than what you thought you were.

In the beginning, Mondays felt like Fridays. Throughout the day you couldn’t wait to get home to FaceTime with him while he was on the set of his current movie. Having time together was always a challenge. With your own hectic life and him off on location for most of the year, your relationship was mainly phone calls and the occasional off time or set visits. But, you made it work. You were happy together. Happier than you’d been in a long time.

“I miss you,” you whispered to the screen Seb.

He half smiled, “I miss you, too, babe. I’ll be home soon. It’ll be a little longer than I originally thought though. We have a few reshoots to do, but I should be done in about another month.”

“That’s alright,” you said masking your disappointment.

You heard voices in the background calling him.

“I have to go. I’ll call you tonight to say goodnight,” he promised.

“I’ll be waiting,” you half smiled.

Falling in love with him was like jumping onto a speeding train. Loving the way the adrenaline pulsed in your veins knowing that at any moment you could fly off the tracks, but not caring because you were flying every time he told you he loved you. You never thought you could let yourself love someone the way you loved Seb, but it was just so easy to let him in. It was like he had been waiting for the right time to pop into your life and show you how wonderful and spectacular being in love could be.

“You know how hot that motorcycle move was right” you laughed at his reaction, as you sat in the cinema watching Captain America: Civil War with him.

“Why y/n, do you like bad boys?” he smirked. “You are constantly surprising me. Maybe I’ll see if I can borrow a bike from Hemsworth and give you a ride,” he whispered suggestively.

“I love you,” you grinned leaning in to peck his already close lips.

“Love you, too, y/n.”

You don’t really remember when it started. On one of his leave days when you were both watching a movie, with you snuggled up into his side, you thought about life always being like this. As he absentmindedly ran his hand in a circular motion on your hip you realized you were always dreaming of him, always being with you. You loved him so much. Sometimes it felt like you loved him more than he loved you, but you’d push the thought to the back of your mind. Refusing to even consider it.

Then he’d leave again.

When you did fight, it was horrendous. It was messy and ugly and you always felt like a fool afterwards.

“No, of course, I want you to pursue your dreams!” you yelled as tears threatened to spill out of your eyes.

“Then what do you want!” he screamed back as he threw his clothes into the suitcases sprawled across your shared bed. It was just a few hours ago that he held you there. The world didn’t exist then. You wished it still didn’t.

“I don’t want a relationship with my computer, Seb! I want you,” your voice cracked. “I love you. You know that don’t you?”

“I’m not doing this today, y/n. I don’t have time,” he sighed and zipped up his bags. “I have a plane to catch.”

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat and feeling out of place in your own home. You always felt like a school kid begging for his attention and time when he had to leave. He always blamed the bad timing, which you knew wasn’t really his fault. He loved acting and you never wanted him to give it up, but sometimes it was just really hard to deal with not having him here with you more.

You followed him to the front door and watched him silently walk down the drive without turning back. As his taxi pulled away, you let the tears fall, “but I love you.”

You weren’t sure how you’d gotten to this point. His calls became shorter and less often. You felt like you were a bad habit he was trying to quit. You didn’t fight anymore but you weren’t sure if that was a good thing or not. It didn’t feel like a good thing.

When he finally came back, you knew what you had to do. It wasn’t fair to either of you to keep doing this to each other.

“Seb, I…I think it’s time we quit lying to each other,” you said as you poured him and yourself a glass of wine. You remembered when you’d picked out the glasses together on one of your visits to his set in London. You ran your finger around the rim of the glass thinking about what you were about to do. What you were about to give up.

He sorrowfully stared at his own glass, “I’m so sorry. I’m not sure why we keep fighting.” He looked down ashamed at the truth you two had been avoiding for far to long. 
“It isn’t fair to you. You are the kindest, most loving person I have ever known. I didn’t want us to end like this.” He hung his head in his hands. “I didn’t want us to end.”

“Seb, the fact that we can sit here and make this decision together…I wouldn’t have known for sure that I could survive this if it weren’t for you. You helped me see that I’m more than what others think of me. That being in love is scary as hell, but it’s also one of the best feelings in the world. The me you first met would’ve been a shattered mess on the floor for months, but you taught me how to be strong.”

“I’m sorry I can’t be more for you. I wanted to be so bad, but…”

“But we just don’t fit anymore.” You finished for him.

“Can you ever forgive me for leading you on?”

“Seb, you didn’t lead me on. We were happy and in love for a while, we just lost our way in the end.”

“I’ll be there for you if you ever need anything,” he reached for your hand across the counter. “I love you.”

His sad eyes met yours as your tears began to fall, “But speaking truthfully, I love you more than you love me.”

Thursday night was always a fun night. You’d wake up early, get yourself dressed, and head to the con to make sure it was prepped for preview night. It meant going to bed early Wednesday and missing out on some of the parties, but it wasn’t a big deal. You tended to be a part of the rest of the parties throughout the week. With the newest Marvel movie coming out, another Avengers flick, you knew that this would be chaos.

The hotel was night enough, donning your usual baggy pajama pants and tank top as you readied yourself for bed, your routine interrupted as the phone rang on the table, charging next to about twelve other portable battery chargers (such was life.) Glancing down, you recongized the name, “Hey, Emma. Enjoying the- wait, what? Slow down a sec. Hold on.” Emma Hughes was one of the heads of the PR staff for Tom Hiddleston, one of the bigger names you were tasked with ensuring wasn’t tackled by mobs of fans. She was good. They all were. You had to be to work with folks like the stars they did.

On the other end there was frantic yelling, “Y/N! Listen, I know this is last minute, I know that. And I am so sorry in advance. But… shit. Listen, Tom’s con rep, Mark? He’s sick. Like, he can’t get to the airport kind of sick. I’d normally never ask this-”

You waved your hand, though she couldn’t see it, “No. Nope. No way, Emma. I’ve got the rest of the show to run at this point, I can be focused on Tom. I’ve got the entire Marvel crew to watch over, not to mention running point with the rest of the staff!” There was a towel wrapped around your head, wet hair inside it as you felt yourself unplug the phone and nervously pace.

Emma pleaded, “I’m begging you, Y/N. I don’t know the staff the way you do, and right now Tom’s insisting that it be you. He says he doesn’t trust anyone he hasn’t met before.”

Your eyes rolled, dramatically so, keeping the sigh that you wanted to let out internal. Emma was just following orders. But what she was asking of you wasn’t just to keep an eye on him, was she? Squinting, you stared at the door before you, “Are you asking me to be his personal PR rep while he’s here?”

There was a soft pause, “I already talked to the leads of the convention. They’re ready to cover what you’d normally be doing. They’re on board with you being his guide through this. Honestly, Y/N, it’ll be easy. You’ve met Tom before, a few times, and he trusts you. Could be worse. Could be following around Robert,” there was a smirk on the line that you knew too well.

Shaking your head you shrugged, “Fine. Am I meeting him in the morning at the main invite? Or do I have to cart his luggage around the airport,” you mused, already beginning to adjust the items you had packed away to fit this new role.

“Oh, he’s actually in your hotel, perfectly enough. I’ll text you his room number and extension. Just meet him at his room around 9am. You know Tom, he’ll be punctual about it. Just… no starstruck stuff.” A flush crossed your cheeks, one that you were so very glad Emma couldn’t see.

“Rude! I’m never starstruck. And around Tom? Please. Not my type. I’ll be fine, thanks,” you weren’t quite sure right then who you were trying to convince.

“Right, handsome men aren’t your type. I’ll keep that in mind. I’ll send you his schedule and everything in some PDFs to your email and the main account. Familiarize yourself with what you can, but he’s a pretty self-sufficient guy. Just keeping everything in check and getting him places in one piece would be nice,” she droned on.

“Emma! I’ve done this for years. I know the drill. Send me what I need and I’ll make sure he’s taken care of. Promise. Cross my heart. Won’t make any Loki comments, either.” You grinned widely.

Once the two of you had hung up a slew of files came to your phone in almost no time. You were glad the con had provided you with the phone the size of a tablet, give the information. But you were realizing, as you readied yourself for bed, that this was not going to be an easy gig. No, Tom Hiddleston had been one of the celebrities that you’d avoided because of that just… unfairly gorgeous man. More than that, he was charming, funny, sweet, and genuinely fun to be around. You’d avoided him because you knew there was no use getting starstruck around a guy who’d never notice a convention staff member. Certainly not you.

As you lay your head down, though, the thought repeated until you fell asleep, If he doesn’t notice staff, why would he ask for and remember you?

_______

Punctual as he was, 9 in the morning found you dressed with comfort and style outside his door. You were wearing the clothes that you’d always wear, a pair of tattered blue jeans and a low-cut black top clinging to your form. This wasn’t for his benefit, but it was for yours. It was easy to manuever in. And the bag slung around your shoulder held all you needed (including emergency supplies.)

Knocking, you did realize your makeup and hair had been done just a little more than you might have normally. You’d told yourself it was because you’d be in the spotlight more, but that wasn’t it. What did surprise you, however, was Tom opening the door wide, his eyes bright with a smile on his face, “Y/N! Great to see you, beautiful. Please, come in, security was just finishing some of the briefing on the day.” He stepped aside, finishing doing the gunmetal grey tie around his neck with a strange finesse only he could manage.

“Oh, Emma emailed me the security briefings. I just wanted to make sure you’re good with the meet-and-greet with all the A-List around noon, which gives you an hour or so to check out the main theaters. I mean, clearly not enough time to explore all of the con, but it’ll give you a sense of the main-”

He cut you off with a wink and a grin, “Always down to business. Come, sit down and have a cup of coffee while the rest of the group worries themselves with technicalities,” he motioned you through the incredibly elaborate and large penthouse suite. It was hard not to look overwhelmed as you took it in. You’d never had a role quite like this, working directly with a celebrity, but always in the background or from above.

You were surprised as he pulled out the chair for you by a table larger than your own dining room table, waiting until you sat to push the chair in gently, “I’m not too concerned about getting to the main hall early, Y/N. Rather, I’d prefer to chat with you, first. Get to know you better. Sound fair?” He was walking towards the kitchen area, grabbing what looked to be a French press already made, pouring two cups.

Behind you there were the usual suspects working out logistics, locked in their world. You looked at Tom, almost nervously, “I guess so. I mean, I’d really like to talk about the plans for the meet-”

There he went. Interrupting you again, “Cream or sugar? It’s quite potent. Brought the coffee from London. Never the same out in the states.” He eyed the bag and you bit down your brief annoyance.

“Cream. Dash of sugar. Please. So like I was saying, the expectation is to chat it up with some of the other ‘superhero’ franchise folks-”

“I suspected you liked your coffee sweeter, though I’m not sure why. Perhaps you’re sweet enough without the sugar,” he smirked as he waltzed closer, moving with grace and ease as you attempted to hide the blush when he placed the mug down before you.

Shaking your head you eyed him, “Mr. Hiddleston, respectfully-”

“Tom, please, Y/N.” He crossed his legs and leaned back, taking a sip of his piping coffee.

“Tom, I’d really like to go over the details for the day. It’s important you know all this so that when we need to bolt from one hall to the next, you’re ready,” your eyes were pleading, but you knew really you were trying to be distracted. Getting to know Tom was a mildly terrifying idea. He had asked for you, you, without even knowing much more than your name and title.

A gentle smile settled on his lips, “Just, please, do me this request and enjoy the coffee for a minute or five. I promise the entirety of Comicon won’t collapse in that time because I’ve insisted on having coffee with a beautiful woman,” he raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying watching the flustered look on your face.

You attempted to hide it, lifting the mug and taking a sip, your face changing as it caught you off guard, “Damn, you weren’t kidding about the taste. This is potent. But good-potent.” You hadn’t quite realized your swear, nor was it at the top of your ‘things to be concerned about’ list. Rather, enjoying the robust flavor you let the man talk.

“So you’ve been doing this a while. Emma tells me you’ve been part of conventions for some time,” he looked over, taking a sip as well as he waited.

“Been attending forever. Anime cons when I was a kid, got into the other cons as I got older. Broke as hell in college so I decided to volunteer, and viola. Long story short, here I am. Got good at what I did so they decided to keep me. So I get stuck babysitting difficult children like you,” you grinned at him over the coffee, deciding you were getting more comfortable around him now. He seemed like the type who could take it well.

And he did. A laugh escaped his lips as he grinned widely, “Difficult! Darling, I can recite my entire schedule and timing of each location better than you can. Even the parties I’m set to attend this evening. I’m simply trying to put you at ease. Though, I’m concerned I’ll have to be a bit more careful. Seems things are a bit more… distracting for me, this time around.”

He let the words sit in the air with an odd comfort, leaving you to sip the coffee before he quickly began to discuss his own thoughts on the scheduling. He hadn’t wanted to cause you any grief. Quite the contrary. Tom wouldn’t tell you as he discussed the panels he’d be at the next few days, but Mark was fine. In fact, Mark was sitting on a beach in Aruba after having been bribed to do so by Tom. There was no way that Tom would tell you he’d spend months orchestrating the ability to get some time alone with you.

It wasn’t easy for a celebrity, which you understood on a real personal level. Finding time to spend with someone and doing it without raising suspicions was always hard. But he’d managed it. And of course you’d never tell Tom as you sat across and watched his plan to once more appear in his Loki attire, drinking your coffee as he read you the schedule off his tablet, that you were smitten for him. It didn’t feel superficial, either. Which was arguably what frustrated you. This man was taking time, time that he was supposed to spend going down hallways and strutting around for the cameras, with you. He’d slide in a personal question here or there, and you’d ask one in return. In the span of only a half-hour, while the team convened, you and Tom had gone over his weekend that already felt too short.

Realizing the time, the coffee now coursing through you, you almost leapt up, “Oh! Mr. Hi- I mean, Tom, we’ve got to get going. Traffic will be a nightmare unless we head downstairs now, we’ve at least got to get you there in time to smile and wave at all the people you already know,” you grinned.

He followed, no putting up a fight this time, your sudden take-charge attitude coming forward as you lead the group down the hall and out to where the limo was waiting. But as the rest of the crew filed into their cars, you heading for the team at the front, you were surprised as Tom gently took your hand and smiled, “I’d prefer you ride with me, Y/N. You know, in case anything comes up while we’re on the ride there. This limo seems far too large to be in here alone. How about it?”

The smile he gave melted away nervousness that had been eating at you. There was a new kind of anxiety rising now as you slid into the limousine you were almost never allowed into. You wanted to be able to do your job, and to do it well, but now? Sitting in the back of a limo headed to the main hall of the convention center, you weren’t quite sure how that might pan out.

(To be tagged, just let me know! Or not tagged. It’s all good! New territory for me

You had busied yourself browsing through the itinerary, trying to ensure nothing changed. You’d get there in time for the glance at Hall H, where he’d make his entrance with the Avengers crew on Saturday. He had a few other panels and signings, but those were easy. For you, at least. That was just making sure this man got where he needed to go.

“Y/N, you’re quite involved in that phone of yours. More interesting than me?” He gave you a large grin, one that caused a flush on your features which you were getting annoyed at. Blushing was the worst.

Raising an eyebrow you showed him the phone, “Planning how much time you’ll need to change between the signings and ‘interrupting’ the Avengers’ panel. Does it take a while to get into the Loki costume?”

There was a soft chuckle from Tom as he shook his head, “I’m really going to have to try at this, aren’t I? You’re not making this easy on me.”

Confusion washed over your features, the car already beginning to pull towards the celebrity entrance of the convention center, fans lined up for even just a glimpse at the men and women they adored. Everyone was clambering at the chance to be seen, and for a moment you understood how that felt. It was easy to feel invisible at events like this, but as the car pulled up and Tom immediately moved over you to get out (oh, did he smell nice… wait, that’s creepy) something felt different.

Fans were screaming, cameras flashing and hands extended. These people had been lined up for hours, that much you knew, excitement in their voices that you remembered once feeling and still occasionally piped up for you. There was adrenaline as you exited the car, but that wasn’t what caught you. What caught you was that Tom was taking his time. There wasn’t the usual smile and wave as he made his way inside, he was going up to multiple individuals, posing for selfies, smiling the whole time. And his smile was sincere, his eyes crinkling lightly and flashing brightly as he flashed his pearly whites.

As you stood and stared, not realizing you were staring, you felt yourself smile. He cared that these people had come out to see him, more than some of the others did. You’d listened once when a celebrity (who shall remain nameless) had discussed the idea of fatigue. They’d wanted to be excited but seeing so many fans so often was draining. It was exhausting. But not to Tom. Even as he knelt down to kiss a young woman’s hand, your smile grew.

He cares. He cares about all of them.

Suddenly a beep on your wrist went off, the watch attuned to your smart devices alerting you that you had limited time to get inside and that other celebrities were arriving. Casually waltzing up to Tom you pulled at his arm gently and leaned in, “C’mon, handsome. Give everyone else a chance,” you motioned to the cars lining up.

Tom followed your lead, smiling as he kept waving and leaned in, “So you admit, I’m handsome.” He was grinning and you couldn’t help but smile. A soft laugh left your lips as the two of you walked inside, realizing you were holding his arm still and quickly letting go.

Pushing back your hair as the chaos outside died down once indoors you shook your head, “I’m just going off of what People Magazine called you,”

He leaned in again, purposefully leaning against you slightly, “Does that mean you follow me on Twitter? Shall I send you a Tweet? Perhaps something teasing?”

You swatted at his arm as the two of you followed the security detail down the hall, still fairly sparse, “Don’t you dare, Hiddleston. I don’t need any more followers than I have. Besides, I already let down 347 people with stupid memes and gifs on a daily basis. I don’t need you adding that number.” You grinned at him.

He couldn’t help but laugh, surprised that you had no idea your own charm. Of course he’d been told he was a charming man, he expected that. It was his role, so to speak. But your own charm had been so disarming that seeing you again had caused him to stumble a bit.  A woman of few words but ones powerful enough to topple over a building. Did you even know? He was struggling to use all of his ‘charm’ and then some just to get you to see him. More than just the celebrity you were escorting.

The tour of the hall left Tom to wander with a few other staff, your own form standing in the back as you checked off a couple mental boxes as you looked around the room. It was average enough, and there wasn’t much trouble to be gotten into, though you suspected the trouble was for the security team to look out for.

Glancing to your left you noticed a young woman, similar in age, walking towards you. She was attractive, though nothing that told you she was going out of her way to tell it to the world. Her blue eyes were wide and excited as she watched the stage, Tom laughing as he hugged Robert hard, the two almost colliding on stage as friends might.

She was grinning widely, this woman who was approaching you for no real reason. She’d tagged along in with Robert’s crew and you wondered if she was part of the general PR group, as she was certainly not someone you’d vetted to be at his disposal. Her words confirmed it, “Can you believe we’re seriously getting to hang out with Tony Stark and Loki?”

You raised an eyebrow, looking confused, “Tom Hiddleston and Robert Downey Jr.? I mean, sure. It’s definitely not what I expected to be doing on a Thursday,” you laughed lightly, trying to ease some of the tension.

A hard laugh left her lips and she shoved you softly, “Oh my god, you’re too much! I’m serious, though! I never thought someone like me would ever get a chance to hang out with someone like RDJ, you know? Definitely not people like us.” The comment had been tossed out, perhaps with no intention of being hurtful, though stung just the same. You had always kind of felt it in a weird way. Knowing that you were there as a faithful servant. You were beloved in the way a golden retriever might be. The thought made you frown.

The woman had pranced off by now, joining those she’d come in with, leaving you unaware as Tom came over, frowning slightly, “Darling, the world couldn’t possibly have gotten that dark so quickly without me.”

A soft smile left your lips at his words, knowing this your problem didn’t need to be his, instead throwing on more of a fake smile as you tried not to let that idea bother you, “You talk some big game, Tom. Seems like you’re already getting started with the meet and greet. We can head over to the main hall where everyone is. Sure there are some folks you’d be happy to catch up with.” Of course, you’d successfully thwarted his attempt at finding out what was wrong. Why should he care? He’s being nice. He’s always sweet.

As the two of you walked, you having successfully put away all electronics and now just lugging the large bag, you winced a bit. The room you were headed into was large and beyond intimidating. You knew your role in a place like this, which was to play into the backdrop and simply keep an eye on Tom. It surprised you, then, when you felt his hand gently on your lower back, leaning in, “If I told you these things made me nervous, would you believe me?”

You looked up at him, a bit shocked and mostly surprised, trying not to act dumbfounded, “Not as nervous as they make me,” you couldn’t help but chuckle.

Tom grinned and laughed, pulling you gently forward with him, “Then stay with me through this, hm? I know you’re used to being in the background but… It helps to have a familiar face. Plus, you can tell your 347 Twitter followers you got to talk to all of the Chrises and Toms,” he smirked, poking fun at himself and those he worked with.

It was hard not to be drawn to this man, allowing yourself to get escorted into the room where stars and celebrities filled the place, greeting and getting to know folks, discussing the previews that would be screened tonight and the parties going on after. It was hard not to notice the hand that lingered on your lower back, that brushed against your arm occasionally as he tossed in a laugh while chatting it up with actors, writers, and creative types alike.

The next few hours felt as though they were flying by and you even found yourself engaging in the conversations. People you never thought you’d laugh with were chuckling at your jokes, and more than a few times you’d taken group shots for the celebrities hugging together. So when the time came to get Tom back to his hotel where he’d be getting ready for the evening, you were surprised it had happened so fast.

He grinned as the two of you made the walk back out again, “Our Captain told me there’d be a party happening a few blocks down after the Avengers sneak premiere. Now, I know your work is done for the evening once I head back here for the screening but… how would you feel about accompanying me?”

There was a smile on his face, and a wide one at that, but you couldn’t help but feel so out of place again. Those woman’s words from before had lingered and you frowned momentarily, though shook your head, “That’s sweet of you, Tom, but I need to get rest. I’ve gotta be up early for prep work for Friday. Now head back to the hotel, I’ve gotta stick around here for some set-up stuff for your autographs and photo ops tomorrow. Think you can manage from here?”

He paused briefly, taking a breath as he eyed the door before turning back to you, leaning in to press his lips gently against your cheek, a quick and chaste kiss, “I’ll convince you to have fun another night. Don’t work too hard. I certainly won’t,” he tossed you a wink, following the ‘underlings’ that would take care of the rest of the work for the evening.

You laughed softly to yourself, this wasn’t going to be easy.

It was three hours later when your personal phone buzzed, you were in the midst of dealing with a fiasco in the autograph station, trying to figure out who had approved, “TIM HUDDLESTON” as the name banner, They’re showing re-runs.

Re-runs? Who was- wait. Oh, god. He had your personal number.

-Tom, they’re showing Avengers. You were in it. That doesn’t count as a rerun.

-Does to me. Think I can leave?

-Hiddles!!! >: (

-I’m teasing, beautiful. Changed your mind about tonight?

Now you were fighting with the man who had approved the banner, taking a break to text once more, I’m dealing with your name change, Tim Huddleston.

-Hm. Never saw myself as a Tim. Eric, maybe.

You smirked, Quit texting during the movie. It’s rude. Enjoy your night out.

The rest of the evening went on that way, your night spent glancing down at amusing texts, though the later it got the better it got.

-Which Chris butt do you think is best? I’m sending pictures. I’ve insisted you be the judge. I won’t tell you which Chris is which.

Quickly after you received three pictures of clothed rear ends, though you had a general idea who was Evans, who was Hemsworth, and who was Pratt.

-You’re asking me to weigh in on a butt competition? Who’d you vote for?

-I’m not telling you. Besides, I’m secure enough in my masculinity that I feel confident taking part. I’ll not involve you in the best ass for Toms competition. You’re already biased in my favor ;)

You laughed, Fine. Tell Evans his butt is the best. And get some rest.

More texts came after, but you were already too tired to check again. Tired from laughter. From smiling. From actually letting yourself enjoy this. Maybe you were a little starstruck. But you could manage it. It was only three more days right? What could happen in three days?

Too much, you’d soon find out.

(Tagged: @stephenismyking, @inkcandescent, @tardis-is-mine, @lucky-fic-recs, @cudan2, @almondbuttercup, @judig92, @lostxsea, @13wstwndrlnd, @dalia-artistik, @timesarehardformarvellovers, @real-d-walton, @srtaprieto, @with-the-words-all-wrong @ellen-reincarnated1967 @skymoonandstardust @little-red-83 , @bitchyhargrove, @demonkitkat, @lizmalfoywayland, @sydthekid1518, @mouse230, @bookgirlunicorn, @esoltis280, @lunalove25,