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neighbourscat · 2 months ago

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𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 , nicholas alexander chavez

THE ‘SAFE-KEEPING’ PREMIERE. paris , the red carpet

𓈒 ˙ ꪆৎ ꣹ ۫ 𖨂 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 . .. . actor!nicholas c. X superstar!new actress!black!fem!reader || second person ( you, yours, you’re ) + lowercase intended.

+ synopsis. from the moment you and nicholas chavez began working together, he’s been captivated by your presence. at first, it was just your talent and warmth that drew him in, but as the years passed . .. . it became something deeper, something more intimate.

+ cw. brief mentions of sex.

+ nali’s notes; this is very ‘kerry washington + tony goldwyn’ coded. downbad!chavez . .. . you & nicholas are never beating the couple allegations now. ); wordcount :: 3.5k+

+ to be played: skin tight, ravyn lenae & steve lacy.

THE ‘SAFE-KEEPING’ PREMIERE. paris , the red carpet

“how much are you going to miss her?”

“miss her?” the shuddering breath that leaves his nostrils narrowly frees the anxiety coursing through his veins like light itself. tonight was one of the biggest nights of his career and his dearest friend, his co-star, wasn’t in attendance yet. though he wasn’t entirely new to the entertainment industry, it wasn’t until recently that the pressures of hollywood started to weigh heavily. his co-star had been navigating this flashy world since late childhood and had became, without meaning to or fully realizing it, his comfort person. his anchor in the chaos of fame. and over time, being around this co-star became less about their roles in the film and more about simply needing to be near. “well . .. .” he began, shyness and nervousness lifting from his shoulders, “i won’t be missing her-“

the interviewer, with a microphone in her right hand and a miniature notebook in the left, tilted her head ever-so-slightly. a brow starting to raise and lips beginning to part, he got there first: “-because we’re still going to be in each other’s lives.” her expression softened immediately; brows falling, eyes widening, mouth turning up into a sweet smile, hand ( with miniature notebook ) held over her heart.

“is that right?” she asked then, her voice light — her heart still thumping from the cuteness of this man. he gave a firm nod, his anxiety and frustration quickly gave way to adoration and total worship. the interviewer noticed the change in his . .. . everything, at the mention and speaking of his co-star. she noticed the sparkle in his eyes, and maybe if it weren’t too loud, she would be able to hear the way his heart fluttered.

“i guess that, i-uh, would like to believe that she, y’know, wouldn’t want to leave me,” he said with a genuine smile. probably his first of the night. “but truly, uh, i’m not leaving her and i’m not letting her leave me.” the interviewer studied him intently, a knowing smirk creeping onto her face . .. . and as he spoke and spoke — his response shifting from enjoying the company of his co-star to how close they’ve gotten throughout the film project — she hoped the camera crew had been getting all of this.

it took a moment for him to stop himself — hands scrunching into fists at his sides. he lets them ball before opening back up. closing and opening again in nervous energy. he’s said too much. far too much. so much that he couldn’t even remember what he had just said and it’s only been three seconds or four. two maybe. his heart twisted in his chest, his mind only emphasizing two things: embarrassment and cringe.

“you love her?” the interviewer asked him.

and his heart — the one that was twisting in his chest — had skipped a beat. several. “love her?” he repeated, his voice laced with confusion and worry. “that is what you said. after saying it was, ‘an honour of a lifetime to play opposite her’, that you ‘love’ her,” she spoke into her microphone with confidence. she waved it toward him and waited. the camera crew behind her seemed to draw closer and the interviewer could see the tension in his body again, the regret in his eyes.

part of him wondered how she had remembered those bits, for he had been speaking for a while.

he mentally cursed himself for getting so lost in his thoughts. “no,” he breathed — he caught and corrected himself then: “i mean, yes. yeah. i did. i did say that-that i love her. which i do. a lot, but not like .. . y’know? not like that. because, no,” he tried to keep his tone casual and stable.

he paused, managing a small smile, “in a nice, y’know, platonic way. as a friend does-can, i guess. because someone can say that. that they love their friend,” he said quickly, almost too quickly. “ . .. . y’know what i mean . .. .?” his voice faded to a whisper. nothing but a hum.

a long pause.

he blinked up at a camera and then the other, and then his eyes found the interviewer’s again — her mouth moving but no words coming out. he wanted to have a seat. some cold water and a large container of popcorn. he did a poor job at playing that off and he knew that for a fact. just thinking about going home and going onto social media and watching that clip back made him cringe. fuck me.

the interviewer had stopped moving her lips, her microphone close to her chest. there was a shift in the air. a very real, undeniable shift in the air that had everyone turning their heads . .. . in your direction. every human within a fifty-foot radius seemed to be drawn to your presence like a magnet.

and that’s when the temperature had gone up a few uncomfortable notches. the custom-made designer suit he wore constricted; an encircling pressure. and it’s just so tight, that he reaches up and tugs at the collar of the dress-shirt he has underneath. he can’t breathe and he wants to get naked . .. . but he can’t. not right now anyway. because that would be highly inappropriate, and he’s better than that. he has the self-control.

“she looks amazing, right?”

he was holding his breath, daring not to speak as his eyes scanned the flood of bodies, afraid the interviewer would repeat her question or ask something else — something else along the lines of you — and demand his attention from finding you. the deafening loud ringing in his ears finally fell silent when he spotted you . .. . looking like an angel who’s come down to earth to grace the people. the waves of beauty, the elegance, and the warmth you radiated for all the world to see . .. . he had to be beside you. the desire to have you, to touch you and feel you against him . .. . was strong. to put it simply.

your stage name had turned into an incantation, a name that blazed and glittered on the overhead billboard. you winced instantly as the passenger’s door yawned open, being greeted with dazzling flashes from the multitude of various press and entertainment outlets waving their cameras and microphones in your face, the blobs of fans begging you to step over and to sign their notepads and movie posters. pleading and crying for you.

you carefully stepped onto the red carpet and made for the fan bleachers — the low, first-row section. you felt bad for those you couldn’t reach, but still, you waved and smiled and blew many, many kisses.

you touched the hand of a crying teenaged girl — you seized her pink gel pen, drew open her notepad to a blank page and hastily printed over the light blue lines: 𝙔/𝙉ᡣ𐭩. and you grabbed another notebook: 𝙔/𝙉ᡣ𐭩. and a clear phone case: 𝙔/𝙉ᡣ𐭩. and then someone’s right palm: 𝙔/𝙉ᡣ𐭩. and then a ‘safe-keeping’ movie poster: 𝙔/𝙉ᡣ𐭩. and then a poster from your 2019 world tour: 𝙔/𝙉ᡣ𐭩. you printed your name at least twelve more times before being redirected by security to continue the red carpet, find the journalists and photographers.

you shifted your attention and went as told — the anticipatory looks of reporters and bloggers, ready to barrage you with questions of this ‘steamy, hypnotic, scandalous’ thriller movie, working so closely to nicholas alexander chavez, and your future plans in the film industry ( if you’d settle in or if ‘safe-keeping’ is a one-and-done ): you are prepared for it. your brown, full eyes meet theirs.

“before i even get to my list of questions, can i just say . .. you look absolutely stunning in white,” said the interviewer, clear and passionate. you thanked the young woman, tone soft and with a smile — nearby hearts instantly melting. “what’s the story behind this look? why don’t we start there, yeah?”

“um .. . so ..” you stared down at yourself for a moment and then back up to the interviewer, lips barely touching the fuzz of her microphone cover, “it’s actually kind’a cute how this came to be-“ the interviewer started to laugh, ready to hear your story. “-earlier this year, nico ‘nd i were on the phone and he was sending me cat reels-like goin’ crazy; three at a time, right? ‘nd uhm, he sent this one of a black ‘nd white cat latched onto each other,” you told her, fingers teasing along the skin-tight white fabric. “i couldn’t turn him down, so while he thinks we’re dressed as two instagram cats, i take it as yin and yang; the feminine and the masculine, y’know? our characters, ‘eris and drew’, ‘nd how they really balance each other out.”

the interviewer, with a low chuckle, said: “not only is that cute, but you turning this look over into your own idea and symbolism is so great. gives married couple a teeny bit-“ your lips formed into a tight-lipped grin and you stared down at yourself once again. you considered for a moment, yeah, and refocused in a snap. “-i love the tiny detailing in the front there, for sure. and the hair pieces as well, so gorgeous.” again, you thanked the woman — missing all she had said before that. “i’d actually like to speak of ‘eris and drew’ for a bit. i attended the ‘early showing preview release’ yesterday evening, and .. gosh, the world is not ready for this.”

you chuckled, “no?”

“hell-to-the-nah. you and chavez on the big screen just . .. .” the interviewer was struck speechless, remembering last night’s early viewing. “ .. . you two just work. so nicely and so beautifully.” your heart swelled with love and pride. “that on-screen chemistry, the intensity and angst between ‘eris and drew’ throughout that entire film, i mean, i pretty much melted into my seat every-time you two appeared in the same frame. it was .. . unreal. it was totally insane . .. . but, really, i want to ask you, how?” you shifted your weight a bit, mentally putting together an answer. “how did you both get that to work-hmm?”

and the microphone was back inching in front of your lips, “having a good off-screen friendship helped. that, um . .. that made this entire project so much easier.” she could hear the sincerity in your tone, and it only fueled her enthusiasm. “i love nicholas chavez,” came out easily, smoothly, and warmly. “i love him so much, i do. ‘nd uhm, it’s been so much fun. this experience was so refreshing and something that i . .. actually really needed. he’s just so generous. and so gentle, and kind, and committed. so, yeah, it all just . .. . fell into place.”

eagerly, and with amusement in her eyes, “i’ve spoken with a few other news outlets today, those from the early viewing, and all of them mentioned the ‘one’ sex scene. it was incredibly hot and worth it.” inwardly, you sighed lowly. you weren’t sure why you hadn’t expected it to come up. but here you are again; picking through your brain for an appropriate answer. an answer that won’t get the internet going tonight. “you know where i’m going wit’ this, huh?” the interviewer found herself laughing . .. . while you stood there, nothing but a grin on your face. “anyways, talk to me about that bed-chemistry. you must’ve had a process for that, right? to keep it from being and looking so awkward, i’d assume.”

the interviewer waited patiently. you let out a breath and answered, “i mean .. no, there was no specific process for that-“ the interviewer’s shoulders seemed to droop, highly disappointed — she hoped that you hadn’t noticed. “-no specific headspace to jump into. i’m comfortable with nico, he’s comfortable with me, ‘nd yeah, we simply just . .. did what we were told. performed the choreography, and uh, looked good while doin’ it.” you finished with a warm laugh.

“how do you think it was for him? filming such an intimate scene with a global superstar such as yourself?”

you seemed to turn it over in your mind for a moment and she anxiously awaited your response.

“ya’know what? why don’t we ask mr. chavez?” you suggested through mock-laughs — you were done with this interviewer and had to continue on with your night.

“why don’t we, hmm? i need to see you two together again. quickly. where is he? where is our ‘drew’? where is that brilliant man?!” you shrugged with a low hum and looked over your shoulder, opting to entertain the search. no sign of a 6’foot-something mountain of a man with brown waves and a pretty pearly smile. “hey, when i catch him, i’ll drag him over,” you said playfully, already starting to step away.

“i’ll hold you to that!” the interviewer declared.

and amongst the loud demands and shutter clicks ringing out from cameras that captured you, y/n y/l/n, nicholas alexander chavez is squeezing through celebrities, vips, industry professionals, and other influential guests — apologizing as soon as he gets too close or just almost bumps into them — desperately trying to get you. you were in his line of sight, just a few more groups of bodies to excuse himself past and he’d have you.

and once he had the room to lengthen his stride, he did exactly that and reached your side. and all had been okay again. he found comfort and was at ease. “hi . ..” your attention was momentarily distracted as you felt a light kiss placed onto your bare shoulder. you stared up and relaxed when you had looked straight into nicholas’ brown eyes. your mind off of the interviewers and the photographers and instead on the heat coming off of his body.

there was no ignoring the voice in the back of his mind now — the one screaming at him, telling him that there had been something in your eyes. something so deep and similar as to when he looked at you or stood so close to you. something that flickered just below the surface. it had been there, no doubt, but finally he could feel it and he was certain of it. that something.

nicholas broke eye contact; raising his head and catching the interviewer’s gaze — he apologized lowly for interrupting. “no, no, i’d love for you to get in on this as well. y/n took me through her approach taken to composing those two ‘safe-keeping’ scores. her process and how she added even-more texture to your phenomenal characters; giving them wings and magic and all that good stuff, which again . .. . was absolutely beautiful to hear in the trailers. but i had asked her if she would do that again; write original music for a film or a show even, and she said ‘yes’.” nicholas smiled at that. “but then, i asked if she would be interested in starring in another film-ya’ girl here isn’t too keen on the idea. what do you think? would you wanna star in another film with her?” the interviewer lifted his microphone toward nicholas.

and without missing a beat: “yes. a million times yes.” short ‘n sweet. you and the interviewer shared a laugh. “don’t fall for that. that was a ‘for the cameras’ response, ‘kay?” nicholas bristled a little at your words, his eyes narrowing as he looked down at you — his chuckle fake and shaky, the cameras caught that too. “no, but-but seriously,” his voice: calm and easy, “i’d do it-this all over again if i could. the last four years.”

“mhmm,” you hummed, “what would you change?”

nicholas studied your face. “nothing. i wouldn’t change a thing.”

relief watched over nicholas as you smiled to yourself, trying to hide the way your cheeks rose — your hand patting the very center of his abdomen, gentle reassurance and acceptance further calming his nerves. “she’s everything to me,” he mumbled as he bent in to kiss just above cheekbone, his big hand gently resting on your lower back. you laughed with the interviewer again, mindlessly trying to shoo nicholas away. yet, his hand lingered on your backside for a beat longer as you chatted with the interviewer more, his fingers subconsciously tracing small circles on the sleek fabric of your dress.

after two more short questions from the interviewer, you stepped forward — nicholas remaining near, his palm still laid against the small of your back . .. . like he needed you ( which he did ), like if you were to leave his side for even a minute he’d collapse. the fit and contact was perfect and looked too good for the entertainment and gossip blogs.

“what would you tell your 12-year-old self?” the new interviewer asked you and nicholas — and you went first. and as you spoke, gesturing lightly with your hands, lost in your response to your younger self, nicholas moved even closer ( surprisingly, it was possible ) — just enough so that his hip could snap against yours. his hand slipped gently across your waist, his long fingers resting just above the curve of your hip, the touch subtle yet unmistakably intimate.

your breath hitched for the briefest moment, but you didn't stop talking, though there was a flicker of surprise in your eyes. you glanced up at him briefly, a soft smile playing on your lips, as if this touchiness was nothing more of a casual gesture; a friendly show of camaraderie for the cameras. but the way his hand had a mind of its own, massaging your hip in a subtle gesture of . .. . something.

the cameras caught every angle — the tender closeness, nicholas’ eyes so fixed on you with a look that wasn’t for the flashing bulbs but for you alone. his chest rose and fell a little deeper, and though he said nothing, the way his arm snaked around you felt possessive — like a silent claim, just barely testing the waters.

you finished your sentence, the interviewer not at all oblivious to nicholas’ never-once straying gaze. “and what about you nicholas?” nicholas stared down at the microphone, mind completely blank.

what was the question?

and in a soft voice, “what would you tell your 12-year-old self?” without thinking, his shoulders eased and he gave your hip four light pats, thanking you for saving him — as you always did. “well . .. .” nicholas began, giving the question some thought. “y’know, i’d tell him to eat more chicken-“

with a crooked smile on your face, “hmm?”

“eat more chicken,” he said again, his tone lighthearted — his hand riding up and down your side. “more chicken, more energy.” the interviewer’s eyes lit up, “fried, grilled, or baked?”

and you watched the exchange, listening to how the interviewer expressed his love for grilled chicken and then how nicholas spoke so passionately about baked chicken — nicholas had an entire backstory and extra details to support why baked chicken was ‘awesome’. for a few seconds, fried chicken had been the topic of discussion; how when he wasn’t feeling baked, he’d go for fried. and when he hadn’t been feeling baked or fried, he’d go for grilled. but ultimately, as he said, baked was his number one.

and when the interviewer waved you and nicholas along — “sorry,” he murmured, his voice low enough for only you to hear, the faintest smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “he really got me going there.” you nodded in agreement, sending him a mock-sweet smile, “mhmm. i heard.”

nicholas’ hand tightened on your waist, “what?” deep and velvety. “why’d you say it like ‘that’?” you shook your head in response, biting back a laugh.

— and finally, as the interviews wrapped up, the final flashes from the photographers dimmed, the buzz of the red carpet slowly shifted toward the entrance of the theater. excitement rippled through the crowd as everyone began to make their way inside for the premiere. the energy, so loud and vibrant outside, now became a hum.

nicholas’ hand was touching the small of your back, guiding you through the thickening crowd — your security surrounding. nicholas’ presence was steady beside you ( as he had been your personal bodyguard ), and though you and him didn’t exchange many words, there was a quiet understanding.

the massive theater doors opened, revealing a stunning auditorium bathed in soft golden light, velvet chairs arranged in perfect rows, and the towering screen that would soon captivate everyone. nicholas reached down and took your hand in his — you glanced at how he turned your hand over, shifting and intertwining his fingers with yours. he squeezed gently, letting you know that you wouldn’t be seated away from him.

the seats filled quickly, the low murmur of voices blending into the occasional pop of champagne corks or soft rustle of programs. ushers guided the ‘special’ guests to their reserved spots near the center—prime viewing for the night’s main attraction.

as you sat, you glanced around, taking in the grandeur of the moment, your heart racing just a little. you always felt this way before releasing any creative work into the world — the calm before the storm of emotions that this film would undoubtedly stir in you.

nicholas lowered himself into the seat next to you, his arm brushing against yours as he settled in, the close quarters making it impossible not to feel the warmth radiating between. the lights dimmed gradually, signaling the start of the night, and the room began to fall silent, a collective breath being held.

and as the opening logos appeared on the screen, you leaned back in your chair, your pulse still quick, though now it was hard to tell if it was because of the film or because of nicholas sitting so close. you crossed your hands and held them in your lap. he leaned in slightly, his shoulder gently nudging yours in a quiet, almost unconscious gesture of love.

“you okay?” he asked, his voice low, the intimacy of the moment heightened by the darkening room. you turned your head, catching the soft gleam of his eyes, “yeah, i’m fine,” you said, unfolding your hands. you turned back to the large screen . .. . nicholas not yet staring away, admiring your side-profile.

the opening credits began to roll, casting flickering shadows over everyone’s faces. nicholas didn’t move away, his arm now resting easily on the armrest between, fingers casually brushing the back of your hand as the movie began to unfold. it was soft, unspoken, but the light touch persistent; more than just an accident or friendly gesture.

and here, you feel it completely and clearly. the something — that coursed through his entire being whenever he touched you or spoke to you — was now filling you up. the something you’ve been holding back to maintain a facade of professionalism despite the fact that your heart was consumed by him.

#nali’s ᡣ𐭩 #black writers #black reader #nicholas chavez #fame #lovers #short story #nicholas chavez X black!reader #eventual smut

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