Your Not Crying I Am!

I love this fluff!!!!

HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS | Ch 1

Summary: A snowstorm has canceled all flights and you're stuck alone for Christmas... or are you? Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader Warnings: 18+, This is a pretty fluffy chapter, alcohol consumption, bad language words Author's Note: I've been on the road for work and looking forward to getting home. I'd be a mess if I couldn't... this is going to be a multi-part series, so hang tight! No Beta, mistakes are mine! Thanks @time-for-a-lullaby for giving this a quick read!

Masterlist Thanks for liking, commenting, & reblogging. I do NOT authorize any of my work to be translated or re-shared off of Tumblr (IE: Wattpad, AO3, etc)

------

Home For the Holidays

Next Chapter

------

The notification from your phone was like a punch to the gut. "Canceled." Every flight for the next 72 hours was canceled due to the ridiculous blizzard happening outside. You had tried everything, looking at alternative options. You were, in a word, stuck. Sulking, you headed downstairs to the lobby, extending your stay, picking up a bottle of red wine and a few snacks from the lobby gift shop. If you were going to be here a bit longer, you might as well make the most of it. Your face wore a crestfallen expression all afternoon, your heart aching to see your family and the dread spreading through you that you'd have to make that call no one wants to make during the holidays. "I won't be able to make it home for Christmas." It was a heartbreaking conversation, but your parents understood considering the weather.

Changing into some cozy (yet casual enough to wear in public) loungewear, you pulled on your Uggs and brought your wine and a glass downstairs to the guest lounge area. A few others had similar ideas, hanging out by the fireplace, playing board games, while soft instrumental holiday music played in the background. A coffee/cocoa/tea & s'mores bar had been set up for guests by the lodge staff. Every topping imaginable for the cocoa, Hershey bars galore and the biggest, fluffiest homemade marshmallows cut into squares so they would fit perfectly on the graham crackers. You settled into an oversized chair by the fireplace and wrapped yourself up in a thick blanket that you had grabbed from a basket near the seating area. As you watched a family also stuck at the lodge unwrap gifts by the tree sipping your Cabernet, a tear trickled down your face.

"Not able to be with your family either?" A voice interrupted your thoughts. You looked up, quickly wiping the tear away seeing an equally wistful looking Chris Evans sitting with a beer sitting in the other oversized chair, feet propped up on the matching ottoman.

"Yeah," you nodded, curling into yourself a little. "Merry Christmas to us," you offered your glass out in a distanced toast, which he held up his beer in response, "Merry Christmas," he responded as a sympathetic smile passed across his bearded face before the both of you took a sip.

"So what were you doing up here in the middle of nowhere?" Chris asked, attempting to make some small talk.

"Snowboarding trip. Annual tradition for me before I trek home to spend the holidays with my family. A little 'me' time; the slopes, the spa, and fuck all."

Chris laughed at your response. "Really? Didn't peg you for a boarder."

"I'm pretty decent, though the gnarly bruise on my hip right now might try to tell a different story." You laughed, setting your glass on the end table next to you.

"Wow. How bad of a fall caused that? I've got one on my thigh right now - we might have to have a show and tell," Chris grinned, clearly in an attempt lift your spirits before taking another sip of his beer.

"Nothing like trying to stop and a snow drift just says 'fuck you' before dragging you down to the ground," you giggled into your glass, playfully extending your middle finger to emphasize the 'fuck you'.

"Got it," Chris chuckled. "That's happened to me a couple of times before." Chris ran his fingers through his hair, exhaling a breath. "Where ya from?"

“Pennsylvania - you?”

“Boston. How’d we end up in middle of nowhere Colorado?” Chris mused, watching a sparkle slowly creep into your eyes, the more you two talked. In the back of his mind, he knew the two of you desperately needed to feel better about your circumstances. Any laugh he was able to draw from you was helping him feel better as well.

“I’m not entirely sure, but I’m not necessarily complaining,” you polished off your glass. “You having another beer?” You motioned to his bottle.

“If you’re having another glass of wine, I won’t turn down another beer,” he smiled. “Be right back,” Chris stood, dropping his bottle into a recycling bin and slipping out of the room. You sat, your fingers contemplating the mini bottle, enough for one more glass. When he returned a few minutes later he held a six pack, and two fresh mini bottles of the red you were drinking. “Figured you might want another glass… or two?”

Releasing the finger you twisted into your hair, “Thank you.” Chris handed off the bottles and the two of you moved to sit on the sofa. “You want some of this blanket?” dog earring a corner as an invitation.

“Yeah, if you’re OK with it,” he accepted your invite and slipped under the soft fabric with you.

****** A few hours or so later… wine time ******

The two of you laughed back and forth as the booze had significantly lowered your inhibitions. You and Chris were going back and forth over something trivial that had you both howling with laughter. You had snacked on more s’mores than either of you would care to admit. At one point, Chris had dotted a small dollop of whipped cream on your nose and you two were getting progressively closer and cozier under the blanket. You swapped stories about wild holidays of Christmas past with your respective families, and got deep into music tastes, your careers, and more.

Your phone chimed with an alert - midnight. You’d normally be at midnight services with the family - your annual pilgrimage to church (you would consider yourself spiritual, but not deeply religious). Your brain sobered back to reality, the little traditions you were missing.

“You OK?” Chris casually slipped an arm around you, resting it on the back of the couch. You looked around the room and realized that you were alone at this point.

“Yeah…” you paused for a moment before you spoke again. “It’s Christmas.”

“It is…” Chris hummed, checking his watch. “Merry Christmas. I just realized I haven’t even gotten your name.”

“It’s Y/N,” you shyly replied.

“Chris,” he formally introduced himself. “Merry Christmas Y/N.”

“Merry Christmas Chris.” You downed the final sip of wine in your glass. “We might want to call it? The slopes are open at 9:30 - considering I’m still stuck here, might take advantage. Not sure what you’re doing in the morning, would you want to join me?”

“Why not? Better than being cooped up in a hotel room alone,” he smiled, polishing off the last sips of his beer. “Join me for breakfast then we can hit the slopes?”

“Sounds great. 8:30 at the lobby restaurant?”

“Perfect,” Chris stood, extending a hand to help you stand. The two of you cleaned up your beer and wine mess in silence. Folding the blanket, you set it back into the basket and turned off the lights.

“I’ll see you in the morning?” You looked to Chris as the two of you walked to the door.

“Yeah… wait, Y/N, look,” he pointed up, acknowledging the mistletoe hanging over the both of you in the door. You looked up seeing the plant, biting your lip very nervously. You drew in a breath, your eyes returning to meet Chris’. “May I?” Chris sought your permission.

“It’s tradition… sure,” you shyly smiled at him. Chris’ hand gently cupped your cheek, and he leaned in, softly pressing his lips to yours. Fireworks exploded in your belly when he connected, your knees immediately going weak. Your arms wrapped around his neck as Chris drew you close to him with his other arm wrapping around your waist. Your mouths timidly explored the other’s, his tongue swiping across your lip, seeking out your own. A soft moan escaped your throat when his confidence grew and Chris deepened the kiss. Holding on, your fingers carefully ran through his bunny soft buzzcut while his hands respectfully held your waist, occasionally rubbing your back.

You eventually broke away, breathless, unable to meet his gaze, still painfully shy. He felt you curl into yourself a little, and hooked a finger under your chin to meet his gaze again.

“I’ll see you in the morning, Y/N. Merry Christmas.” Chris pecked a kiss to your nose, releasing you and offered his hand to escort you to the elevators.

“Merry Christmas,” you responded. The elevator cab opened, and you stepped inside, a small grin spreading across your lips as you bid him goodnight.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” Chris smiled at you as the doors closed, and he called another elevator for himself to get him back to his room.

------

Next Chapter

------

Taglist: @thesecretlifeofdaydreamss @rootcrop @nostxlgia18 @simpfor-cevans @spooky-stoner @isysen @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @lynnettes-stuff @racewife2004 @captainxdeee @hay-booboo @intense-socks @cucciolafaerie @patzammit @allforbenbarnes @dontbescaredtosingalong @jesgisborne @krissy25 @rach2602

The Hoes: @time-for-a-lullaby @kthynes @maroonsunrise83 @ysmmsy

Join the Taglist!

@blizzspeaks Chris and the grapefruit!

arranged: pt. 1 (the wedding)

arranged - pt. 1 (the wedding)

mafia!Chris Evans x Female Reader

Series Summary: Living in this life, you’ve never gotten to have much say in anything. What you wear, who  you hang out with, and now, who you marry and you’re dreading your arranged marriage to the Italian mob boss, Chris Evans. Expecting to suffer through a life of abuse while being kept under lock and key, you’re pleasantly surprised when Chris is nothing like you expected. He’s the most feared man on the East Coast, only brought to his knees by one thing and one thing only. You. 

Warnings: language, alcohol, arranged marriage (chris’s family signs contract with readers family that promises their first born daughter to their first born son), parental abuse mentioned, age gap. Reader is 25, Chris is 35. Mention of running away. this series will have smut (18+ only, please)

A/N: I’m honestly in love with this series. I hope you guys enjoy! 

W/C: 5.9k

Italian and Italian translation in italics.

likes, reblogs, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated! ❤

series masterlist

time-for-a-lullaby masterlist

You sighed, laying your head on your best friend Lydia’s shoulder, both of you stretched out on her king sized bed. It was happening. The moment you’ve been dreading since high school. Tomorrow was your wedding day. 

You knew this was inevitable. You’ve known this was coming for at least 10 years, but it didn’t make it any easier. Part of you always thought that maybe your mother would step in and reason with your father, put a stop to the wedding, but any time the conversation was breached, it ended with a new bruise somewhere on her body. 

The contract that sat in the safe in your father’s office taunted you, day in and day out. No matter what you did, the fact of the matter was… you were already sold to the highest bidder. 

“You’re gonna be a married woman. It’s crazy,” she finally spoke up, looking over at you. You’ve known Lydia since you were both in diapers, her father working in close contact with yours. Although you didn’t need that connection, you and Lydia were practically soulmates. Something tells you that you would’ve found your way to each other one way or another. Mafia ties or not. 

There were 3 families in Boston that ruled the Italian mafia. Your family, the Ricci family, and the Evans family. 

Your father owned just about every deli in Boston and while he didn’t directly tell you what he did, you knew enough to know that every deli was a front for something. Arms trade, drugs, even exotic pets. 

The Ricci’s owned a bunch of Italian restaurants in the Boston area, the banquet halls put on a permanent reservation for the families to conduct their business in  while enjoying fine dining.

And finally, the Evans family. The top tier of the Italian Mafia. The most feared man on the East Coast. The man you were going to marry tomorrow. He owned just about every nightclub on the strip. You knew that after Chris’s father had passed a few years ago and that the family business was signed over to him and that was about it. You definitely wouldn’t use the word shy to describe Chris, but he wasn’t a man of many words. He was also 10 years older than you at 35, so it’s not like you’ve really ran in the same circle. He was a mystery to you.  

You groaned, scrunching up your face,  “Don’t remind me. It’s not fair. I don’t–” you paused, your emotions taking over, “– I don’t even know him. Like… at all. And tomorrow, I’m gonna be his wife and live in his home and expected to… procreate with him,” you shook your head at the thought, “I’m gonna have to have sex with this stranger at some point.” 

She looked up to her ceiling, “Well, at least he’s not bad to look at.” 

You let out an unamused laugh. She wasn’t wrong. Chris was very attractive but you knew absolutely nothing about him. You’ve only said maybe two words to him in the 25 years that you’ve been alive and yet you were expected to live with him, share your life with him, and have children with him. Tomorrow, you were going to be his wife. The wife of a don. You didn’t know much about the life, but you knew enough to know that Chris was a dangerous man and the thought that he could be anything like your father made you sick to your stomach. You lived a life of abuse and were so close to getting out, but if Chris was anything like your father, you were just trading one angry don for another. 

“What if he hits me?” You whispered, a few tears escaping from your eyes, “I can’t– Lyd, I can’t,” your lips quivered at the thought. Lydia knew your dad put his hands on you and your mother. But it wasn’t like anyone could do anything about it. Half of the Boston PD was on his payroll and the other half was too scared to do anything, there was no way in hell he’d get prosecuted for anything. 

Lydia turned to face you, “Then we’ll run. We’ll pack our shit and we’ll leave.”

Keep reading

gimme an M, gimme a U (4/?)

Pairings: Yenzy (Jensen) x itty bitty (platonic) and Hockeyplayer!Ari Levinson x female reader (Levs x itty bitty)

Warnings: explicit language, physical violence- minor and not in detail (male towards male) excessive legal age drinking, heartache, angst, idiots in love and ruining it, bonehead Levs, MU team, itty bitty acting out of character, explicit sexual content implied- possibly a little dub con-ish depending on how you look at it, size kink- itty bitty is short and it’s making all the boys feral (must be 18+)

Word Count: 2.6K

A/N: not beta read. All mistakes are my own.

I know she’s not here anymore but a thank you to my sweet friend Siri for reading though this and spitballing ideas with me ❤️

Levs (Ari) x itty bitty: hockey AU

Lucky Charms: hockey AU

So, just because there’s been some buzz around this part in particular- could I ask that you kindly put any spoiler comments/reblogs under a cut, please? 🙏❤️ Thank you for all your support! I appreciate all of you so much!

"He's freaking out, y/n... can you at least let him know you're OK?" Yenzy sighed, tapping the pencil on his notebook as he swiveled in his desk chair. He took his glasses off and rubbed at his tired eyes before replacing them.

It had been nearly a week since you left Ari at the arena and ever since the boys won, Ari had been calling you non-stop. Your mailbox was full and he had even accosted your roommate, drunk and begging for your whereabouts.

You had left- not even telling your roommate where you planned on going. You didn't have a plan. You just needed a place where he wouldn't find you. And he would never think to look for you... here.

"How 'bout an I'm OK, now fuck off text?" Yenzy smirked.

"No" you snorted stubbornly, "he can eat shit" you double hiccuped and then giggled.

Yenzy heard a muffled male voice in the background of wherever you were, you pulled the phone away and held it to your chest as you spoke to the unidentified male, Yenzy only hearing bits and pieces of a garbled conversation.

"Hey, bit..." Yenzy called into the phone.

"You're dumb... it's not a catchphrase..." you scoffed, bringing the phone back to your ear, "anyone can say that..." you said, addressing the male voice.

"Bitty..." Jake tried again, louder this time.

"Yuck..." your hiccuped was a squeak, "don't call me that... I hate it... I hate that stupid nickname... who cares if I'm short? He's a big dumb giant" you harrumphed.

"How much have you had to drink?" Yenzy asked, concern laced his tone.

"Dunno" you sighed into the phone with a shrug, "but I need a refill..." you sang out to no one in particular.

"Are you at least being safe?" Yenzy asked with a heavy exhale, "where are you?"

"I'm fine" you assured, "I just need to not feel for awhile, Yenz" you dropped your voice so only Yenzy could hear you, "and I'm not telling you... cause then you'll tell him and he'll come find me... and I'm not... ready" your voice was growing watery again as you thoughts drifted back to Ari.

You couldn't think of him for too long- you wouldn't let yourself- or it would start the spiral of devastation all over again. He had been your everything for the past two years and you were his... nothing.

Why did it take you so damn long to realize that? You felt like a joke.

You were nothing but a good time for him. A stop  in between his revolving door of partners. Maybe he had been sleeping with others all along- even when he said he was waiting to score with you.

You felt like you were going to be sick. Clearing your throat as you wiped the tears with the back of your borrowed sweater.

"Y/N..." Yenzy blew out another exhale -completely over being in the middle of all of this- he had clearly been trying to get your attention as you were lost in thought, "just be careful, please? And call me if you need anything... I won't tell him if you don't want me..." but Jensen's words were cut short when there was a loud commotion on his end of the phone.

"What the hell?" Yenzy huffed when his bedroom door flung open with a force that rattled the house.

"Is that bit? Where is she? Gimme the phone" Levs' demanded as he rushed across the room.

Ari looked disheveled; bloodshot eyes, hair tossled from racking his hands through it one too many times and he smelled like booze.

"Levs... she doesn't want to tal..." Yenzy started before Levs yanked the phone from the goalie's hand.

"Bit?" Levs tried to keep his voice even but it trembled. The line was dead.

"Fuck" Levs yelled, nearly cracking Yenzy's phone when he closed his fist around it with a snarl. His face flushed pink as he seethed down at his teammate.

"Why didn't you tell me she was talking to you?" Levs barked, "I've been trying to get a hold of her for days..."

"Jesus, man... get a grip" Yenzy said, standing and maneuvering around Levs as he tried to leave his room, "she doesn't want to talk to you."

"Get a grip?" Levs spun around, "she's my... my..."

"Your what, man?" Yenzy goaded, "you're a mess 'cause she left and you still can't fucking admit what she is to you..."

"Fuck you, Jensen" Levs growled.

"That's it... keep deflecting..." Yenzy scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"SHE'S MY FUCKING EVERYTHING" Levs yelled in a drunken rage as he threw Yenzy's phone to the floor.

Yenzy's jaw ticked, his fists clenched at his sides- he moved to pick his phone up, but Ari took an aggressive step towards the goalie, boxing him in against his bookcase.

"Then why don't you fucking tell her that?" Yenzy shot back, matching Levs' volume but not his bite.

"Watch it" Levs' anger was barely contained, boiling just under the surface.

"You've been stringing y/n along for how many years now?" Yenzy asked, "she's gone, pal..."

"I'm not your fucking pal" Levs loomed over Jensen with about 4 extra inches.

"She's too good for you" Jensen scoffed under his breath, standing his ground.

"What the fuck did you just say?" Levs growled.

"You heard me" Yenzy said, glaring at the brute.

Cappy, Sam and some of the other boys had made their way to the bedroom hallway from downstairs after hearing the yelling.

"She's too good for me, 'cause what?" Levs snorted harshly, "you wanna fuck her, Yenzy?"

"You're drunk" Yenzy glared at him.

"And you wanna fuck my girl" Levs countered.

"No... y/n and I are just friends... became friends the last time you were a massive dick to her in fact" Yenzy said, bluntly.

"What the hell does that mean?" Levs snarled.

"When you went home for the summer and hooked up with an ex..." Yenzy continued, "y/n found out... she saw it all... some video on TikTok or something."

"What?" Levs asked, "how? She never told me that..."

"Because she was humiliated..." Yenzy scoffed, "she had just told you she had feelings for you and you go and fuck some other girl?"

"I never fucked her..." Levs growled, taking Yenzy's shirt in his fists and yanking him close.

"Hey" Cappy yelled, getting in Levs' face, "walk it off, Levs" he said as Sam and Johnny rushed in, each grabbing a shoulder of the Canadian powerhouse.

Levs easily shook off his teammates' holds, glowering down at his goalie just as Yenzy's phone buzzed to life. Levs glared at Jensen, shoving him one last time before letting go of his rumbled t-shirt.

"If this is fucking broken..." Yenzy threatened as he bent down, picking up the phone and answering it when he saw your picture flash across the screen.

"Yenzy, is he still there?" you asked, your voice was steady, but inside you were trembling.

"Yes" Yenzy snarled, glaring at Levs who had backed off but still looked menacing in his current state of beast mode.

"Give him the phone" you instructed.

"You sure?" Yenzy asked.

"Please, Jake..." you blew out a heavy exhale.

Jensen sighed, reluctantly offering Levs the phone as he shook his head, throwing his hands in the air as if he were washing himself clean of the whole damn thing. Yenzy turned, storming out of his bedroom with a curse.

"Bit?" Levs asked, turning his back on his teammates as they also decided to leave the room.

"Stop calling me" you snapped.

"What? Bit, please..." Ari's voice was pained as he paced the small space, "I'm so sorry... I..."

"And leave my roommate and Yenzy alone. I'm not even at my place and I'm not coming back... They don't have anything to do with this..." you continued, ignoring his pleas.

"Where are you?" he asked.

"That's none of your concern anymore" you said.

"Bit... I scored... I scored" he slurred, "just come home, baby... please?" Ari begged, his voice watery now. You could tell he was drunk.

"Oh, that's great" your sarcasm was thick, "have fun with Kimmie..."

"What?" he snorted, "no, bit... it's you... it's only you... I scored for you..." Ari paused his pacing to emphasize every word.

"I don't care" you spat, "none of it matters... it never mattered, Levs..."

"Bit... don't say that..." but Ari's words were choked off with emotion, "don't do this to us, baby..."

"You did this... you did this to us" your tone was surprisingly calm, "you fucking did this to us... I was right there the whole fucking time and it never mattered."

"That's not true, bit" Ari's voice cracked again as he fought back the tears.

"Stop fucking calling me bit" you screamed into the phone, "I'm not your bit... I'm not your fucking anything..."

The phone went dead as Levs sank down on Yenzy's bed with a sob.

You stared at the phone for a long minute, eyes prickling with tears. The sound of someone clearing their throat startled you back to the present.

"Good girl" Ransom goaded, walking back into his bedroom and handing you an imported beer. You'd been getting drunk off this fancy shit ever since you showed up on his doorstep that night.

"Shut up" you whined, "I don't even know why we’re doing this... he's never gonna care..." you wiped a tear with the back of your hand.

"A guy like Levinson? Thinking he missed out on that tight little snatch? He's gonna fucking care" Ransom hissed, tossing you a jersey as he sat opposite you in his expensive oversized Italian leather chair.

"You're gross" you cringed, "why did I get drunk and tell you everything?"

"Cause I'm a good listener" Ransom snorted, not even believing himself.

"Are you just being nice to me so you can get in my pants?" you wondered out loud.

"Think that's been pretty clear from the start, little bitty kitty..." Ransom smirked.

"Ew! Don't call me that" you hiccuped.

"Why?" Ransom's eyes twinkled with delight, "she's obviously little, Ransom leaned forward, taking handful's of your soft curves and yanking you to the edge of his bed. You gasped, almost spilling your beer before squirming out of his hold as he frowned. Ransom leaning back in his chair with an exaggerated eye roll.

Trying to ignore the tension building in the room, you set the beer bottle on his bedside table and grabbed the jersey he had thrown at you.

"I'm not wearing this..." you frowned, holding up Ransom's MU knit. Even their jersey's were menacing.

"Sure you are... to the game with those assholes and Coach Barber" Ransom hummed, before standing up again and grabbing his giant hockey duffle from his bedroom floor, "Levinson will go balistic... and you want him off your back, right?"

You blew out a heavy sigh, but remained silent.

"Y/N... I'm not running a fucking bed-and-breakfast here..." Ransom narrowed his eyes at you, "and I'm not a nice guy... figure your shit out with that goon or wear the jersey..."

"It's not that easy, Ransom... I..." you started, but Ransom cut you off.

"Look... I don't give a shit what you do... but after we win tonight, I'm fucking whatever cunt ends up in my bed - even if that's your pretty little kitty... bet you're so fucking tight... and that it's been way too long... you're just begging to be stretched by a fat cock, huh?" his eyes darkened, staring at you hungrily.

You chirped, opening your mouth to protest, but your throat had gone completely dry.

"Wear it" he pressed, a satisfied smirk curling the corner of his mouth as he turned on the spot, leaving his room without another word.

A bad feeling sat heavy in your gut as you watched him go. Following through with some half-baked plan that you schemed up while drunk with Ransom last night- now suddenly sounded like the worst idea ever.

You stood, holding up Ransom’s jersey before deciding better of it and draping it over the back of his leather chair. You quickly tugged his sweater over your head and proceeded to hang it neatly next to his MU away uniform.

You left Ransom's room, in a pair jeans and a tank top, making your way through the house- on a mission.

It wasn’t long before you found another jersey, hanging from a rack near the kitchen. Taking that one off the hook, you held it up, admiring the quality red white and blue stiching. Your fingers traced the "Tucker" across the back. Lance boasting, just last night, that he was the only one from MU that had ever been invited to play for Team USA at the Olympics. They took gold that year- Lance had the tattoo to prove it.

You shook your head, hanging the jersey back up on its hook. That one wasn't going to cut it either.

Making your way through the kitchen to the other side of the house you stopped right outside his room. You felt like a modern day Goldilocks, not necessarily in looks, but in determination to find a jersey that was just right.

In a moment of panic, you faltered. Could you really be this mean? Did you want to be this mean? Levs had hurt you. Shattered your heart into a million pieces and you were ready for him to feel some of that heartache.

As you stood there, agonizing over everything that had happened in the last two years to lead up to this moment, the bedroom door in front of you swung open.

"Why hello there, dewdrop" his unconventional choice in facial hair made him look at least 5 years older than all the other players on MU as he glanced down at you with, mischief in his eyes,  "what can I do for you?"

His words and tone were deceivingly sweet, but you knew he was anything but kind. And he was exactly what you needed to get Ari off your back.

"You mind if I borrow your away jersey tonight?" you chirped before you lost your nerve.

"Thought you'd be wearing Drysdale's'?" his lip curled into a sickening sneer. You weren't sure what it was exactly, but he made your skin crawl.

"No" you said, crossing your arms over your chest as his gaze bore through your thin cotton tank top until you felt exposed.

"An' what do I get in return?" he smirked, leaning in his doorway, his larger than life frame taking up as much space as possible. Could he possibly be taller than Levs?

"I... um..." nervous laughter bubbled up your throat as your arms fell to your sides.

"Don't worry, sweetheart..." he smirked, smoothing his hand over his facial hair, "sure we can work something out..." he turned, disappearing into his room and returning a few seconds later with a dark MU jersey.

He licked his lips before extending the jersey to you, but instead of letting it go when you took it, he yanked you forward, crashing you into his hard chest with a growl as he wrapped a thick arm around your waist.

"Been dying to get a taste of that sweet nectar, dewdrop..." he whispered hot in your ear, "gotta see if that tight little honeypot lives up to all the hype... I got a feeling both holes are just achin’ to be stuffed."

All you could do was whine as you braced your hands against his broad chest. He let you and the jersey go with a snicker, humming to himself as he left you there alone, his jersey in hand.

You stood, frozen on the spot, until you knew he was gone, leaving for the MU arena to get ready for the game tonight. You blow out an exhale, holding the jersey up to read the big block lettering across the back.

"Hansen" you said aloud to yourself. A shiver snaking up your spine. This was a very bad idea.

A/N: so I’m going to post this and run 🫣 I don’t want to know if you hate it 😓🤐

The hockey divider is made by the lovely and talented @firefly-graphics ❤️

As always, thank you for all the love and support. Please check out my archive blog where I only post new fics @drabblewithfrannybarnesfics ❤️

the boston brute series: part 9 (baby steps be damned)

The Boston Brute Series: Pt. 9 - Baby Steps Be Damned

Pairing: NHL!Chris Evans x Athletic Trainer!Reader (female character)

Summary: When you graduated from Northeastern University, you had your sights set on the West Coast. And then you were offered a position with the Boston Bruins Athletic Training Department. And then you met Chris. A 6′3″, ruggedly handsome hockey player dead set on making your life a living hell by pushing every button and getting on every nerve. Despite your obvious disdain for each other and the ‘No Fraternization’ clause in your employee contract, you’re drawn together in a passionate, fiery love affair that seems to burn everything in its wake.

Warnings:  Crude language. Chris is an asshole. Neglect from the previous part is joked about being Chris and reader. If you can’t handle that, please do not read. SMUT (fingering, oral - fem receiving. 18+, please. Minors will be blocked.) This part actually has fluff, too! Please do not read this series if you are not a fan of asshole Chris or fics with a lot of angst. As always, let me know if I missed anything!

W/C: 6.6k

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. All players and scenarios are made up completely. This story does not reflect things that actually happen in the NHL or with its players. Additionally, I talk about Chris’s family in this fic. Again, work of fiction and is no reflection of his parents or grandparents in real life.

likes, reblogs, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated! ❤

series masterlist

time-for-a-lullaby masterlist

I no longer have a taglist. Give this page a follow and turn on your notifications!

Sitting on your designated stool in the corner, your leg bounced rapidly as the game played out in front of you. It was the 3rd period, tied at 2 with the LA Kings.

You have loved hockey for a long time, but even when you were with Dean, the games still didn’t feel this intense. It was so obvious that Chris loved what he did and his love for the game had you hooked. It also didn’t hurt that he looked so damn good while he was doing it. The way that he moved on the ice was mesmerizing, especially because you knew what each of those muscles looked like when they were bare and flexed.

Luckily, no one had gotten injured or needed anything from you today, so you were able to focus on what was happening and it was getting close to going into overtime. There were only 7 minutes left in the game and of course, Chris picked a fight.

You cringed as the other player’s fist swung towards Chris’s face, a hard punch landing on his cheek before he started firing back. This was the one thing you hated. Obviously, they let the players fight for a reason, but it always seemed to be Chris throwing the punches and you hated it.

They hit the ground hard and the crowd rose to their feet, fists pounding against the plexiglass. Chris was pulled off of the other player, whatever they were yelling at each other was drowned out by the roar of the crowd as he was escorted quickly to one of the penalty boxes. He turned to sit on the bench and your rolled your eyes. His cheek was bleeding.

Keep reading

WOW!

arranged: pt. 7 - free

arranged - pt. 7 (free)

mafia!Chris Evans x Female Reader

Series Summary: Living in this life, you’ve never gotten to have much say in anything. What you wear, who  you hang out with, and now, who you marry and you’re dreading your arranged marriage to the Italian mob boss, Chris Evans. Expecting to suffer through a life of abuse while being kept under lock and key, you’re pleasantly surprised when Chris is nothing like you expected. He’s the most feared man on the East Coast, only brought to his knees by one thing and one thing only. You.

Warnings: language, alcohol, arranged marriage (chris’s family signs contract with readers family that promises their first born daughter to their first born son), parental abuse mentioned, age gap. Reader is 25, Chris is 35. (18+ only, please) parental death, guns, violence, LOTS OF ANGST. blood, reader going into shock. Chris doin’ some killing. 

A/N: This series is like ripping my heart into shreds 

W/C: 7.1k

ALSO, major S/O again to @tis-thedamn-season and @blizzspeaks like i seriously don’t know what I would do without you guys

Italian and Italian translation in italics. DISCLAIMER: I do not speak italian nor am i italian. If there is something incorrect, please tell me so I can make the proper corrections!!! Thank you to @chaelle for helping me with the translations :)

*CHRIS POV*

It was early. Entirely too early for his phone to be ringing, but still, it did. Chris took a deep breath, careful not to wake you and rolled over to grab his phone from it’s charger, “Yeah?” 

Seb’s voice came through the other end, “Hey, so, I’ve been keeping tabs on Y/N’s mother like you asked and… I think something’s happening.” 

Chris glanced over at you, before climbing out of bed and walking gingerly to the bathroom, closing the door quietly, “What’s going on?” 

“I’m not… really that sure. But he’s been acting weird. Real flighty, jumpy.”

His hand scrubbed down his face, trying to will himself awake, “Alright,” he sighed, “can you tail?” 

“I can if you need me to, I’ve got that… thing with Russo today.” 

Chris had ordered everyone to be as vague as possible over the phones. Mafia business was tough and he couldn’t risk being tapped or exposed over a burner cell. Local cops weren’t an issue, but the FBI wasn’t as easy to bribe. Neither was ATF. 

“Right. Uh– I’ll call Romano. Take care of everything with Russo, I’ll talk to you later,” Chris hung up before Seb got the chance to respond, immediately dialing Romano and putting him on the tail of your father. 

This man was not to be trusted. At all. He’s always been sleazy and conniving, but he almost never let it show. If he was visibly jumpy to Seb, something was off. 

Keep reading

I agree! She is an amazing writer!

I just need everyone to know that @blizzspeaks is a QUEEN and amazing person. That is all.

PS: go read her work!!!!

arranged series drabble: everything we’ve always wanted

Arranged Series Drabble: Everything We’ve Always Wanted

Pairing: mafia!chris evans x pregnant!reader

               mafia!seb stan x ofc!lydia ricci

Warnings: not proofread. i think just language and pregnancy mentioned. pregnancy symptoms (morning sickness).

W/C: 1.6k

A/N: SCREW IT. I’M POSTING IT NOW. Thank you guys for loving this series so much.

Italian and Italian translation in italics. (i did not run my translations by anyone this time, sorry) 

likes, reblogs, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated! ❤

series masterlist

time-for-a-lullaby masterlist

I no longer have a taglist! give this page a follow and turn on notifications!

“Tutto bene, cara?” (are you okay, dear/darling?)

You looked up from your place on the bathroom floor, the cool tile providing a little comfort from the queasiness you were feeling. “I’m okay.” 

Still, Chris’s concern didn’t waver. 

“I can stay home.” 

“No, I’m okay. Promise. Just a little morning sickness.” You stood, grabbing a tissue to wipe your mouth while looking at Chris appreciatively, his hand extended with your toothbrush. 

You thought that since you were almost in the second trimester, the morning sickness would’ve eased up by now, but your doctor informed you it was normal for your symptoms to amplify with multiples. 

Fucking twins. Twins. 

Keep reading

the boston brute series: pt. 6 (don’t give up on me) - sneak peek

The Boston Brute: Pt. 6 - Don’t Give Up On Me (Sneak Peek)

Pairing: NHL!Chris Evans x Athletic Trainer!Reader (female character)

Summary: When you graduated from Northeastern University, you had your sights set on the West Coast. And then you were offered a position with the Boston Bruins Athletic Training Department. And then you met Chris. A 6′3″, ruggedly handsome hockey player dead set on making your life a living hell by pushing every button and getting on every nerve. Despite your obvious disdain for each other and the ‘No Fraternization’ clause in your employee contract, you’re drawn together in a passionate, fiery love affair that seems to burn everything in its wake.

Warnings: Angst, language. Chris being an asshole. Talk of Chris treating reader poorly. 

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. All players and scenarios are made up completely. This story does not reflect things that actually happen in the NHL or with its players.

A/N: This next part is very angsty. Please do not read if you do not like angst. 

likes, reblogs, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated! ❤

series masterlist

time-for-a-lullaby masterlist

I no longer have a taglist. Give this page a follow and turn on your notifications!

“What are you doing?” Chris stopped, turning to look at you. 

“My job.” 

His jaw flexed. “Do your job elsewhere.” 

God, this man is insufferable. “Jesus fucking christ, Chris. Let me in the goddamn room. My job is to make sure you don’t fall over, crack your head open, and bleed out on the bathroom floor. I know that for whatever reason you can’t stand me, but I could give two shits what you want. Do you seriously think I’m dying to sit in a fucking room with you after the way you treated me? Because the answer is no. I would rather pull my teeth out with pliers than spend one more minute with you. But I don’t have a fucking choice because it’s my job. So let me in the goddamn room.” 

Chris stared at you for a second, his shoulders dropping a tad. His face softened, making him look sad instead of pissed off, and for some reason it made you want to punch him even more. What right did he have to feel sad right now? “Did you– Did you sleep with him?” 

You scoffed. “That’s unprofessional and none of your business.” Your lips pressed together in a tight line, your pissed off expression unwavering. “Are you done?” 

“Are we done?” He asked softly. 

Taking a shaky breath, little hairline fractures splintered your resolve at the tenderness in his voice, but you still couldn’t just forget what happened and how he treated you. “There is no ‘we’, Chris.” You paused, tearing your eyes away from his and dropping them to the patterned carpet of the hallway, “Please don’t make this any harder than it already is.” 

Mmph, my🐱

Because this is how he’s gotta be looking at you when you’re at a neighborhood block party, right? After he sees you happen to have charmed the very shy little two year old girl who lives three doors down from you. Her four year old brother is shepherding both you and the little girl who won’t let go of your hand around to get snacks, play on the swings, and back and forth from the play room of the house throwing this get together.

He can see it.

American pie, white picket fence dream.

(Better put this behind a read more for some breeding and some questionable consent…)

You’ve already fooled around a bit. Not the first few weeks as the new couple in the neighborhood, but this week the proximity finally caught up in a moments of weakness that finally coincided for both of you. He knows you’re not a prude, but without a need to even discuss it, you had drawn a nice, comfortable line between the two of you. The logical thing if you’re going to play house to spy on the neighbors for as long as it takes to get their secrets. Both of you are such professionals it’s why he had no qualms taking this unconventional approach with you.

But then one late night less than a week ago…

And with the damn broken, it seemed a shame to waste a good thing.

He is on you the second he closes and locks the front door that night. It’s a kiss to consume you, and you half moan, half giggle when he presses you up against the wall and grinds his erection into your stomach. He’s a quick study and he’s already figured out enough ways to turn your brain off.

When he pushes you down to your knees, you go eagerly, and you unzip his pants and take his cock out without instruction.

He enjoys the warmth of your mouth until the saliva is dripping sloppily out of your lips and he can see you’ve finally slipped one hand down beneath your skirt to touch yourself.

That’s when he pulls you off, and in one swift moment raises you back up, twists you around, and shoves you against the wall. He flips up your skirt, pushes the wet gusset of your panties aside and sheathes his cock in you in one full thrust. You were wet for him, but not stretched, but you’ve already confessed that you don’t need him to prep you every time, that sometimes you like the pain of it, if being split open by his thick cock.

He can hear how far gone you already are in the baseness of your moan, which is perfect, because a couple of times you’ve let him fuck you a couple of times without a condom already, but he’s not pulling out tonight.

You realize that a moment too late.

In the throes of your first orgasm for the night, he continues pumping, he twitches inside you, and you try to move your hips, but he pins you and keeps thrusting.

“Steve, you need to - ”

“I need to fill your sweet cunt and see your belly swell with my children, sweetheart.”

You gasp and then cry out.

“What I saw tonight? You with those kids? Too sweet to pass up.”

He keeps thrusting until he’s spilling his hot seed in your womb, and he taps your needy clit to pull another short orgasm from you and you whimper his name.

He will take you again on all fours on the hardwood floor of the entryway before throwing you over his shoulder and then taking you apart until you’re mindless and docile and pumped so full of his cum before midnight that it’s dripping out of you. It won’t matter because he’s got plenty more for you, and he will keep you full all night, fucking you a few times through the haze of your sleep. You won’t be able to move in the morning with your exhaustion, which will be perfect for him to go to the bathroom and flush your birth control away.

As for him? He can do this all day, as many days as it takes to root his seed in you and get you to see this his way.

He even thinks it could be easy to sway you into his fantasy.

Sure seems like it with how you moan and cry at first but with cries that turn to keening.

Um… happy accidental Sinday!

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!