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Chris Evans X Reader Fluff - Blog Posts
Nick Vaughan X Reader Series
Take Me Home | Part 1: Meet Cute
A/N: Ooft... did this take a while! I am so sorry for the delay for my love @atoosa22 but i hope you enjoy the first part of what is sure to be a very fluffy (and soon to be smutty) series. ☘️😘
“Yeah mom, of course, uh-huh... yeah I’m heading home now… yes… it’s freezing here.” You pulled your keys out of the lock of your workplace, holding your phone between your shoulder and cheek as you listened to your mothers worries and concerns knowing she stood halfway across the world powerless while you were alone in the big city.
But there was no such thing as being alone in New York, all the sounds, the lights, the people. It never slept. But you certainly did.
3am and all you could think about is your nice, warm fluffy bed at home.
“Yeah mom, ok well I gotta go… I love you have a good day!”
You hung up, slipping your phone into your pocket. Tightening your coat around you, noticing the misty cloud that appeared when you breathed out. Fiddling with your keys in your hand, manoeuvring the teeth of the metal between your knuckles (just in case).
It was a 20-minute walk back to your apartment. What could happen in the 20-minute direct route to your apartment? 20 blocks. 20 minutes. Head forward. Shoulders back. One foot in front of the other.
Stragglers lined the street; sleeping homeless people, drunk patrons who have called it a night and a few bold individuals walking their dog.
You’re not alone. Never in New York.
You reached block 12 of your journey. With the building above it under construction a makeshift tunnel of plasterboard and wooden beams was your path. Poorly lit by a singular low functioning flood light above but with the rest of the street cut off, it was your only option.
The sound of your boots on the floor was drowned out by the sound of drunk male laughter. “Not every drunk man is a bad man” you thought as you followed the sound hoping to make it to the other side unfazed.
The tunnel was narrow, and the group of men took up most of the path, leaning against the walls, huddled in a group. Taking in a shaky breath you approached them, eager to pass without being perceived.
“Hey pretty girl where you going?” Mission failed as the man snarled at you. You bowed your head, suddenly becoming interested in the tips of your shoe that was until the presence of another matched you toe to toe.
He had blocked your path, forcing you to look up. “Hey when a man’s talking to you, you respond.” His voice was louder this time, agitated. You had heard it many times before in men. Angry men. Men who always got their way by force.
You clenched your fist around your keys, feeling the keychain make indents on your skin. The man had an audience, and he wasn’t going to relent.
“Why don’t you smile a little…” His hand edged towards your face but shot away suddenly at an echo from behind you.
“Baby hey why you walking so fast!” A man came up beside you, wrapping his hand tightly around your waist.
“Excuse me guys.” He gave a firm shoulder nudge towards the man in front of you, pushing him the side. Frozen in fear you let him lead you towards the exit.
You both walked in silence to the next block, far gone from the narrow tunnel.
“Thank you.” You finally let out.
“Oh, foreign that explains it.” He mutters. The fear in your body had now left, replaced with annoyance.
“What’s that supposed to me?” You pushed out of his grip around your waist. Now face to face with the man who technically saved your life.
He looked down on you, while a little wayward in appearance, he was tall and handsome a scruffy beard curving around a strong jaw. Even with layers he looked as though he packed a decent bit of muscle, enough to push your average creep down if needed.
“It means anyone whose actually from New York knows that when you look like that you shouldn’t be walking around it at 3am.” He spits, cocking his head to side in a condescending manner.
“For your information, I’ve done that walk many times since I moved here and that has never happened. And since when is it a woman’s responsibility to reconfigure their whole lives so creepy assholes don’t have a chance to take advantage of them?”
“That’s not what I meant.” He pinched his eyebrow in frustration.
“Well thank you for very much again and I hope you enjoyed your knight in shining armour moment.” You continued to walk, leaving behind your handsome saviour.
“Hey wait.” He jogged up behind you. You stopped in the middle of the sidewalk.
“God you do walk fast don’t ya?” His joke was met with your scowl.
“Let me at least walk you the rest of the way home?”
“Oh so you can know my address and then break in and kill me?” You scoffed.
“I would of been happy with a cup of thank you coffee.” He rubbed his neck, smirking at you.
“I don’t even know your name and you want to come back to my apartment?” You looked at him like he had two heads.
“Well, it’s Nick, and if that’s not good enough its Nick Vaughan born 14th of June 1981. Professional failing trumpet player, full time adored son, part time knight in shining armour, and my social security number is 79-.”
You put your hand up to stop him “Ok ok I get it you’re not a murderer.”
“Hey you cut me off at the best part!”
“Oh really?”
“I’m also the guy who makes sure a pretty girl who just had to deal with a drunken creep gets home safe.”
You pursed your lips inward to hide the smile threatening to come up as he called you pretty.
“Fine.” You let out.
“Wait a minute…” He stepped closer, holding out his pointer “What if you’re…” His finger threatening to push past your coat and touch the exposed skin of your chest. “The murderer.”
“Y/N, foreigner, passport holder of [your country], professionally [dream job] but also full time, loving daughter and occasional victim of drunken creeps.”
He thought for a moment, looking up at the skyscraper above him “Yeah that checks out.”
He held out his elbow, edging you to thread your hand in it. You looked at his arm in confusion.
“You’re cold I promise it’ll make you feel better.”
You were cold and his strong arm was inviting and with your limited experience of his arms around you, you knew that you liked it and it wouldn’t hurt to be able to savour the feeling this time. You begrudgingly slid your hand through.
Nick: “Is it rude to ask why you are walking home this late?”
Y/N: “Pushing it but if you must know I was closing at work.”
Nick: “Alone? They make you do it alone?” His voice laced with concern.
Y/N: “I’m not 15 so yes, they make me, an adult women close up shop at the end of the day.”
Nick: “Remind me not to start questioning the independence of a clearly very strong-minded woman.”
Y/N: “You learn quick, too bad you seem to be 30 years too late.”
Nick: “3 sisters, so excuse the natural instincts.”
Y/N: “Fair enough.”
Nick: “How do you drink coffee from where you’re from?”
Y/N: “In a mug.”
Nick: “Funny.”
Y/N: “I know. Now my turn.”
Nick: “Shoot.”
Y/N: “Why are you walking alone this late?”
Nick: “I’m a musician.”
Y/N: “Yes, but not a vampire so…”
Nick: “Most gigs are at night as well as drunk people are more likely to give up their cash.”
Y/N: “So, you’re a hustler?”
Nick: “I prefer the term opportunist.” He smirked at you.
“This is me.” You motioned towards the front step of your building.
“It’s pretty late-”
“I should let you go-”
You looked at each other, letting out soft laughter.
"Thanks for walking me home. I guess I owe you that cup of thank you coffee."
Nick grinned. "I'll hold you to that. How about tomorrow morning?"
"Sure, why not?" you replied, surprised by your own eagerness.
"But you're buying, you know struggling musician and all."
"Fine.”
"Goodnight, [Your country]."
“Goodnight, Nick.”
As he walked away, you couldn't help but feel a flutter in your stomach. Opening the door to your apartment, your back hitting the door as you slid to the ground, grinning like an idiot.
Part 2 of bubba? Would love to see more of protective!chris 🥺
Bubba Part 2: Bump
A/N: Everyone grasp your loins i'm back... lol and a funny update after being bullied by my roommates they found this account and followed it to "keep tabs" so everyone say heyyy to my inner circle who I recommend sleep with one eye open 🥰
"Stay beside me yeah?" Chris held you tightly, staring at you intently as he helped you out of the car.
"I can barely walk, you don't have to worry about me pulling a runner." Chris gave a small smile at your light hearted joke.
At this stage, you were 6 months pregnant and HUGE. The last thing Chris wanted to do is shove you in front of a thousand cameras and screaming crowds but you insisted you two go. You desperately wanted to get out of the house and do yourself up after living in sweatpants.
Chris couldn't deny despite the heartburn, oily hair, night sweats and cankles you were glowing and looked absolutely stunning tonight to the point he had to hold himself back from giving you another baby.
"We can go home at anytime." He rubbed the small of your back lightly, fidgeting with the top layer of your dress.
You two approached the interview platform, Chris easing you gently yet forcing your whole body weight on him as he helped up the short 2 inch step.
You smiled at him endearingly as you approached the report. He wasn’t necessarily a bad reporter he just was a bit too enthusiastic for you and Chris’s liking not to mention a little invasive both figuratively and physically.
Chris knowing this placed himself between you and the reporter, hand encasing yours between you two.
“And here we have Chris, Y/N and the bump..” He outstretched his hand, verging towards your bump but not before the ever alert Chris, pushed his hand away promptly
“Absolutely not.” Chris said sternly, eyeing the report with challenging eyes.
He laughed nervously, moving his hands back into his pockets.
“Well do you guys know the gender yet?”
“We do!” You both said proudly, at the same time.
“Well how about giving us a W News exclusive huh?”
“Yeah no we plan to keep that information between us and our family for the time being.”
“Oh come on is Captain America having a strong boy or beautiful girl… let it out.”
Chris was getting annoyed at this point, so you gave his forearm a soft squeeze.
“I don’t care if it’s a boy or a girl and either can be beautiful and strong at the same time. I’m just grateful for a so far healthy baby and wife. Thanks for your questions.”
You smiled up at him as he led you off the platform, reaching his limit on stupid questions.
Moving off the platform you let out a groan of pain. Chris’s eyes shot to your face concern written all over his;
“What’s wrong? You hurt?”
“No no.” You waved him “My feet are killing me.”
“I did tell you not to wear them.” You glared at his hindsight for now was not the time to play the “I told you so” game.
“It’s called an OUTFIT Christopher.” You spat at him through gritted teeth.
“Sorry sorry… here take ‘em off.” He crouched down, pulling up his slacks slightly to get on one knee.
“I can’t just do that in public!”
“You’re pregnant, you can get away with anything.” He brushed you off.
Chris lifted up the skirt of your dress, slowly easing your foot out of the shoes.
You sighed with relief as he gave your feet a quick massage in his large hands.
“Better right?”
“So much better. Thank you.” You gave him a quick peck on the lips.
Holding the heels in his hands, you walked the rest of the event barefoot and in way less pain.
What about chubbish and kind reader getting criticized for dating the world's sexiest man of 2022, she felt upset and cries. Chris felt angry at the people who doesn't know about his girlfriend
Sexist Girl Alive (Curvy!Reader)
A.N/WARNING: Screenshots are obvi fake, TW for fatphobia, slurs, people being mean ☹️ but happy ending, photos arent mine (mwah pinterest)
You smiled at the photo of you two, dressed up before a night out. Chris lips lovingly on your cheeks as you smiled happily. You thought you looked great in your new skin tight dress. Sure it showed a few insecurities but you hoped the black would hide it. Your makeup and hair was all done up and Chris couldn’t stop loving on you all night.
You chuckled at the sweet yet corny caption. He would never live it down - would he? You shook your head, grinning like an idiot.
Fighting your better instinct, you went through the comments, chewing your thumb nail as you eyes laid on the key words:
“Fat”
“Cow”
“She takes up the whole mirror.”
“It should be illegal for someone like her to wear a dress like that”
“Chris Evans is legally blind if he thinks she’s sexy”
You licked the taste of salty tears that had landed on your upper lip. You took a shaky breathe out as you quickly wiped away the tears that were forming. You felt pathetic, crying about what a bunch of nobody’s had to say about your body. They were jealous, they didn’t know you, they were protective of their internet boyfriend - your mind ran through all the reasons for such vile comments but that still didn’t stop the feeling of sadness and inadequacy that ran through you.
That was until a wet little nose landed on your cheek, paw pushing the phone away from your face.
“Would you look at that you found mama- baby what’s wrong?” Chris came in, catching your tear stained cheeks and red, watery eyes.
“The um… instagram you posted you-“ You were hiccuping, anxiously patting Dodgers coat. Too embarrassed to meet his eyes, firmly focused on the Instagram comments that were now blurry.
“I didn’t post your nudes did I?!” His face full of concern that he had pulled another, much worse, social media blunder.
“No.” You left out a shaky faux laugh
“You left comments on and well some people aren’t very nice.”
“Show me right now.” His jaw went tight and his expression changed to pure disgust and anger.
You handed him the phone, digging your face into Dodgers coat, drying your tears.
Chris’s eyes scanned the comments, jaw tightening as he grounded his teeth.
“That’s it.” He throw the phone next him, making his way up in a frenzy.
“Chris it’s not a big deal I’m just emotional.”
“It is a fucking big deal.” He raised his voice now, running his hands through his hair in frustration. Chris wasn’t an angry person, rarely getting upset but when you were involved; people better run.
It perplexed him everyday how he thinks he landed the most beautiful woman in the world yet people want to pick apart something as stupid as your weight.
Chris wasn’t blind at all, he was engrossed and obsessed with every curve, every roll, every stretch mark, every sag. He loved them all.
He couldn’t get enough of grabbing your belly whenever he could, even in public. His hand without fail always travelled from your waist to your pudge, slowly stroking the skin or the fabric - it relaxed him.
Or at home when he’d forgo your ass and instead just grab a roll and jiggle it in his hands, fuck, in his mind it was a bonus to your ass, more skin he could fondle and touch and enjoy, more ways to get a whole body ripple out of you.
Or in the morning before you’d wake up when he’d slowly trace your stretch marks, adoring the way they looked like tiger stripes he felt like they were a natural piece of art on your body.
The way your thighs would wrap tightly around his head, a built in pillow for him to rest on while he traced your body with his hands, following the natural trail created by your curves.
How every hug felt soft and warm as you pressed your plump body up against him, he would get so frustrated that he couldn’t grab every single part of you all at once and just squeeze but a hug was the closest thing.
He didn’t think pure beauty existed until he saw you for the first time, he remembers the way he jaw fell agape slightly and his eyes widened desperate to touch you, desperate to have you in his bed every night.
You were his now and he wasn’t going to let some bullshit comments take that away from him.
To take the spark and light out of you, to push you down to a place where you felt you were anything but incredible.
You body wasn’t just a wonderland but the home for the soul in which he adored, his kind, intelligent, resilient, witty, outspoken, well read and highly cultured, drop dead gorgeous woman.
The purity of you being so authentically yourself was sacred to him and he was fiercely protective of you for that.
He dreaded the day the comments got too much and he cringed at the thought of you changing any part of the woman he met for some fucking comments. It wouldn’t happen. Not on his watch.
“You can’t just- you can’t fucking say those things about someone! I mean we go back 200 fucking years and there’s your body in fucking oil paintings around castles and here we are now where your accomplishments, your personality, your kindness, your fucking beauty is just completely shitted on.”
“I dealt with it way before I started dating you.”
“Well it ends now.” He said crouching down in front of you as you sat curled into a ball on the couch.
His eyes had softened and he was desperate for you to meet his. Wanting to assure you with everything he had that this meant nothing to him.
“Baby you know I don’t agree with those comments right. Fuck, you remember how much I couldn’t keep my hands off you that night.”
“And every night before.” You snorted
He gave you a soft smile, happy you were back to making jokes “Exactly.”
“It’s my fault I should of turned comments off but we shouldn’t have to do that. I’m going to write something and that should be the end of it.”
“We shouldn’t react that’s what they want.” You said wearily.
“In no world is that going to be said about you and I just sit back and let it happen. Absolutely not. Now come on, let’s get you in the bath.”
You sunk into the steaming water as the smell of lavender and rose filled your nose and muscles you didn’t realise you were tensing finally relaxed. Repeating mantras of self assurance in your head with the distant sound of Chris scurrying around the bedroom and his muffled voice on the phone.
Getting out and into your robe after an hour you made your way into the bedroom, finding an exhausted Chris waiting for you on the bed.
“Come here I wanna show you something.” He tapped the spot next to him, inviting you to snuggle against his chest as he got out his phone.
You rolled your eyes, sighing as you got comfortable.
“Read.” He said sternly, putting his phone into your hand.
You brushed the tears forming in your eyes from happiness. Two things you could always count on with Chris is his ability to make you the happiest person alive and his passion. Combine them and you’re a babbling mess of gratitude and love. Pulling his head down towards you, peppering kisses all over his face and whispering thank you against his lips.
“Don’t thank me come on now.”
“It was very well said.”
“Yeah well we won’t need this for awhile.” He grabbed his phone from you, throwing it down the bed as he fell off the edge, landing with a small thump.
“Come here sexy, I wanna love on my girl.” You giggled as his beard brushed against your neck as he left wet soppy kisses down your body, untieing your robe to get your unfiltered body in all its glory.
Chris’s comments created a storm of support, bringing up a conversation of why a woman’s body is ever a topic of concern and the high expectations of male celebrity partners to look a certain way.
And months down the line he still stood by them. Stating in an interview:
“I don’t think I have ever been more furious than when I read those comments. You know you have this beautiful, intelligent partner and you’re both in this happy little bubble of love and admiration and then these strangers, randoms on the internet just start attacking them for all the things you love about them. It’s like a kick in the gut. I felt so guilty like it was my fault because she didn’t ask to be famous or anything and it’s not easy to give that privacy and anonymity up to follow your heart but she did it anyways and all she was met with was horrible comments. Man, I was so scared that was going to be it for her and I’d never see her again. It just felt like people don’t realise that’s a real person, we are real people and if you wouldn’t say that to someone’s face then why comment it where they can see? She didn’t deserve that at all and I was going to do everything in my power to make sure it never happened again. She means the world to me, I’d do anything to protect her. I’m just lucky I get to wake up to her everyday and she’s this strong, resilient person who can’t be knocked down easily.”
Smut
Chris still have His costum from Captain america. What does that mean? Rollplay with chris.
Mint Condition
WARNINGS: SMUT MINORS DNI. 8k filth, roleplay, dirty talk, sex, P in v, edging.
You mulled through your large walk in for a Halloween costume, stray pieces you could put together to make an encrypted costume, all black and slutty you could do Charlie’s Angels… but there’s only 1 of you. You huffed as you swiped from hanger to hanger until…
“CHRISSSSSS!” You hollered
“Yeah honey.” He walked into the room stopping to a halt when he spotted you, devious look on your face as you held the costume in front of you.
“Hi Captain.” You purred
“Put it back.” He said sternly
“Why should I… look at this… it’s beautiful and omg mint condition.” You lifted one of the sleeves feeling the fabric.
“Because it’s the past.” He came towards you reaching for the costume but you turned your body away.
“Then why is it here?”
“Because one day I might hand it down to our son or if we go broke I can sell it.”
“I feel like I missed out on so much with this costume… can you wear it for me? Just once?”
He sighed, studying it with his eyes “It won’t fit anymore.” Chris tapped on the small sight of pudge on his stomach.
“Oh nonsense just try… please.”
“Fine.”
You squealed “ok let me go get a shield!”
You came back in the room with the glorified frisbee in your hand, but Chris didn’t realise your presence too busy in the mirror admiring himself.
“You need this.” You came up behind him, handing him the hard plastic prop.
“Thanks Peggy.” He smirked at you
“You’re welcome Captain… now turn around and let me look.”
You bit your lip as you ran your hands along the stretch cotton, the color hadn’t faded a day from not seeing the sun in 10 years.
“It’s tight on me.” Chris gritted his teeth
“Where?”
“The crotch.”
“Is that the suits problem or your problem?”
He looked down at you a sarcastic smile, as you ran your fingers slowly along the the silver star emblem and the intricate red and white panels.
“So how does it get on?”
“Like a onesie.” He grinned
“Ooooh.” You nodded, never fully understanding the layout of the suit.
“Oh it’s got a zipper.” Your eyes widened at the discovery.
“Yeah what if I needed to piss?”
“And the other thing…”
“You think I was spending my days fucking on set?”
“If I was around you would of.”
“That’s true baby.” He pulled you closer by your waist.
“So what do you think of Captain America.” He purred in your ear
“I think he’s gonna be in a lot of trouble.” Your hands on his bearded cheeks as he pulled you closer by your waist so you could feel the straining fabric against you.
“Hmmm why’s that?” His words mumbled by the kisses he was leaving on your exposed neck.
“Because he’s too busy fucking me to save the world.” You bit his ear lope eliciting a feral groan from Chris.
He threw the shield to the side, letting it land with a thud as he hoisted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he placed you on the centre counter of your walk in.
“Well that’s your fault isn’t Ms Carter?” His eyes honed in on you, noticing the delight as he’s finally catched on to the dirty game of role play you’re playing.
“You know I always wondered…”
“Hmmm.” His tongue still exploring the skin exposed on your robe as you toyed with the hair on the nape of his neck.
“Whether the serum applied to your whole body…”
His hands moved to loosen the tie around your waist, letting your body be fully exposed beneath him.
“You wanna find out?” He quipped as his mouth made its way down your stomach.
“Please.”
“Please what?”
“Please… Captain.”
Chris growled as his grabbed the back of your knees, pulling you to the edge of the counter and placing them on his shoulders.
“Tsk tsk no panties… not very professional.”
“They got too messy thinking of you.”
You pushed his head closer to your core as you finally felt the sweet feeling of his warm tongue flat on your sex. Chris wasted no time, creating a wet sloppy mess of your pussy as his tongue travelled up and down your weeping core and sensitive clit.
“Agh Chris more.” You dug your heels into his back but it was no restraint for the brooding man. Pulling out to stand over your flushed body.
“Call me that again and I’ll stop.” You swallowed weakly seeing a side of your man you’d never seen before.
“Yes Captain.”
“Good girl.” His hands went to the zipper pulling it down, letting his hard cock finally free from the tight fabric and pumping it slightly in his hand.
His pushed it slightly towards your centre, teasing it back and forth on your slit, letting your juices soak his head, pushing the tip in slightly but not even close to enough for any real pleasure.
You withered and moaned, making grabby motions towards his face.
“Stop moving or you’ll get nun’” His Boston accent slipping through.
Slowly and achingly he inserted himself into your begging core, anchoring himself with your fleshy thighs. With ever move in, he pull you closer aiming to get as deep as he can.
Finally you felt the cool zipper against your clit as you wrapped your feet together behind his back, desperate for him to lean over you and pound you viciously.
“You feel that honey?” You nodded, mind clouded by the feeling of his length pulsating inside of you.
Inching in and out, you savoured the feeling of Captain America fucking your sweet hole, keeping a steady pace. You mewled wanting to grab on his large biceps, he grabbed your hands pushing them down, lacing your fingers in his as he pinned them down.
“No touching the suit baby.” He tsked as he loomed over you. “You’re just gonna lie down and let Captain take care of you.”
His thrusts increased, the friction of he material rubbing against your sensitive clit only enhanced the novelty, his beard brushing your skin as he kissed you deeply, swallowing your moans.
You grabbed his hair, pulling him deeper, close to your release you pulled out the kissing panting,
“I’m gonna cum.” With that he pulled out to your shock.
Your mouth fell agape as he avoided your eyes “what’s wrong?” You grabbed his chin, pulling his face to look at you desperate for him to return inside of you.
“Mint condition you can’t cum on the suit honey.”
“You can’t be serious?”
“Oh I’m very serious.” He pecked your forehead.
“Go lie in bed, Captain looks better naked anyways.” He chuckled.
You huffed as he held your hand while you slipped off the centre counter.
Was better than nothing you thought.
Wow i'm glad you do. For Nick Vaughan i want to ask for a fluff. (i never say no to smutt by the way :) ) Reader came from another country to new york. They met while reader is walking at the city at night. They start dating and fall so hard for each other. They decide to movie in in a small apartment which is a safe, sweet home to both. The first one that they have❤
Also, a request that is deserving of multiple parts! 🥰
Nick Vaughan X Reader Series
Take Me Home | Part 1: Meet Cute
A/N: Ooft... did this take a while! I am so sorry for the delay for my love @atoosa22 but i hope you enjoy the first part of what is sure to be a very fluffy (and soon to be smutty) series. ☘️😘
“Yeah mom, of course, uh-huh... yeah I’m heading home now… yes… it’s freezing here.” You pulled your keys out of the lock of your workplace, holding your phone between your shoulder and cheek as you listened to your mothers worries and concerns knowing she stood halfway across the world powerless while you were alone in the big city.
But there was no such thing as being alone in New York, all the sounds, the lights, the people. It never slept. But you certainly did.
3am and all you could think about is your nice, warm fluffy bed at home.
“Yeah mom, ok well I gotta go… I love you have a good day!”
You hung up, slipping your phone into your pocket. Tightening your coat around you, noticing the misty cloud that appeared when you breathed out. Fiddling with your keys in your hand, manoeuvring the teeth of the metal between your knuckles (just in case).
It was a 20-minute walk back to your apartment. What could happen in the 20-minute direct route to your apartment? 20 blocks. 20 minutes. Head forward. Shoulders back. One foot in front of the other.
Stragglers lined the street; sleeping homeless people, drunk patrons who have called it a night and a few bold individuals walking their dog.
You’re not alone. Never in New York.
You reached block 12 of your journey. With the building above it under construction a makeshift tunnel of plasterboard and wooden beams was your path. Poorly lit by a singular low functioning flood light above but with the rest of the street cut off, it was your only option.
The sound of your boots on the floor was drowned out by the sound of drunk male laughter. “Not every drunk man is a bad man” you thought as you followed the sound hoping to make it to the other side unfazed.
The tunnel was narrow, and the group of men took up most of the path, leaning against the walls, huddled in a group. Taking in a shaky breath you approached them, eager to pass without being perceived.
“Hey pretty girl where you going?” Mission failed as the man snarled at you. You bowed your head, suddenly becoming interested in the tips of your shoe that was until the presence of another matched you toe to toe.
He had blocked your path, forcing you to look up. “Hey when a man’s talking to you, you respond.” His voice was louder this time, agitated. You had heard it many times before in men. Angry men. Men who always got their way by force.
You clenched your fist around your keys, feeling the keychain make indents on your skin. The man had an audience, and he wasn’t going to relent.
“Why don’t you smile a little…” His hand edged towards your face but shot away suddenly at an echo from behind you.
“Baby hey why you walking so fast!” A man came up beside you, wrapping his hand tightly around your waist.
“Excuse me guys.” He gave a firm shoulder nudge towards the man in front of you, pushing him the side. Frozen in fear you let him lead you towards the exit.
You both walked in silence to the next block, far gone from the narrow tunnel.
“Thank you.” You finally let out.
“Oh, foreign that explains it.” He mutters. The fear in your body had now left, replaced with annoyance.
“What’s that supposed to me?” You pushed out of his grip around your waist. Now face to face with the man who technically saved your life.
He looked down on you, while a little wayward in appearance, he was tall and handsome a scruffy beard curving around a strong jaw. Even with layers he looked as though he packed a decent bit of muscle, enough to push your average creep down if needed.
“It means anyone whose actually from New York knows that when you look like that you shouldn’t be walking around it at 3am.” He spits, cocking his head to side in a condescending manner.
“For your information, I’ve done that walk many times since I moved here and that has never happened. And since when is it a woman’s responsibility to reconfigure their whole lives so creepy assholes don’t have a chance to take advantage of them?”
“That’s not what I meant.” He pinched his eyebrow in frustration.
“Well thank you for very much again and I hope you enjoyed your knight in shining armour moment.” You continued to walk, leaving behind your handsome saviour.
“Hey wait.” He jogged up behind you. You stopped in the middle of the sidewalk.
“God you do walk fast don’t ya?” His joke was met with your scowl.
“Let me at least walk you the rest of the way home?”
“Oh so you can know my address and then break in and kill me?” You scoffed.
“I would of been happy with a cup of thank you coffee.” He rubbed his neck, smirking at you.
“I don’t even know your name and you want to come back to my apartment?” You looked at him like he had two heads.
“Well, it’s Nick, and if that’s not good enough its Nick Vaughan born 14th of June 1981. Professional failing trumpet player, full time adored son, part time knight in shining armour, and my social security number is 79-.”
You put your hand up to stop him “Ok ok I get it you’re not a murderer.”
“Hey you cut me off at the best part!”
“Oh really?”
“I’m also the guy who makes sure a pretty girl who just had to deal with a drunken creep gets home safe.”
You pursed your lips inward to hide the smile threatening to come up as he called you pretty.
“Fine.” You let out.
“Wait a minute…” He stepped closer, holding out his pointer “What if you’re…” His finger threatening to push past your coat and touch the exposed skin of your chest. “The murderer.”
“Y/N, foreigner, passport holder of [your country], professionally [dream job] but also full time, loving daughter and occasional victim of drunken creeps.”
He thought for a moment, looking up at the skyscraper above him “Yeah that checks out.”
He held out his elbow, edging you to thread your hand in it. You looked at his arm in confusion.
“You’re cold I promise it’ll make you feel better.”
You were cold and his strong arm was inviting and with your limited experience of his arms around you, you knew that you liked it and it wouldn’t hurt to be able to savour the feeling this time. You begrudgingly slid your hand through.
Nick: “Is it rude to ask why you are walking home this late?”
Y/N: “Pushing it but if you must know I was closing at work.”
Nick: “Alone? They make you do it alone?” His voice laced with concern.
Y/N: “I’m not 15 so yes, they make me, an adult women close up shop at the end of the day.”
Nick: “Remind me not to start questioning the independence of a clearly very strong-minded woman.”
Y/N: “You learn quick, too bad you seem to be 30 years too late.”
Nick: “3 sisters, so excuse the natural instincts.”
Y/N: “Fair enough.”
Nick: “How do you drink coffee from where you’re from?”
Y/N: “In a mug.”
Nick: “Funny.”
Y/N: “I know. Now my turn.”
Nick: “Shoot.”
Y/N: “Why are you walking alone this late?”
Nick: “I’m a musician.”
Y/N: “Yes, but not a vampire so…”
Nick: “Most gigs are at night as well as drunk people are more likely to give up their cash.”
Y/N: “So, you’re a hustler?”
Nick: “I prefer the term opportunist.” He smirked at you.
“This is me.” You motioned towards the front step of your building.
“It’s pretty late-”
“I should let you go-”
You looked at each other, letting out soft laughter.
"Thanks for walking me home. I guess I owe you that cup of thank you coffee."
Nick grinned. "I'll hold you to that. How about tomorrow morning?"
"Sure, why not?" you replied, surprised by your own eagerness.
"But you're buying, you know struggling musician and all."
"Fine.”
"Goodnight, [Your country]."
“Goodnight, Nick.”
As he walked away, you couldn't help but feel a flutter in your stomach. Opening the door to your apartment, your back hitting the door as you slid to the ground, grinning like an idiot.
High Off You
A/N: Ok so not a day goes by I dont think of this quote:
I dont think it’s talked about enough that my our little ray of sunshine use to smoke. Makes me love him a little more! So this is for my stoner girlies... I see you!
WARNINGS: Mentions of weed, being high
Disclaimer: All characters and events written, even those based on real people are entirely fictional and are no representation or comment of said characters in real life.
Chris took a drag of the rolled-up joint, placing it back on the ashtray beside him. Blowing the smoke into your mouth like he always did, placing a wet open kiss to your mouth sealing the smoke between you two.
You loved this time of year, when Chris had ceased all commitments for the year, and you took time off work for the holidays. You had a decent week between both of you finishing up for the year and when the chaos of the festive season started so you’d always take time for you two. With no responsibilities and nowhere to be, you’d both go to his LA home and lock yourselves inside, spending the majority of the time reconnecting and occasionally, such as nights like this, getting baked on that sweet Californian green. It made you both feel younger and meant for many funny, giggling nights wrapped up in each other’s arms.
The intimate moment was promptly ruined though when Chris barked with a jolt;
“I got it! I’m the George Clooney!”
“You’re what?” Your eyes squint in confusion as you tilt your head to look at your boyfriend more clearly.
“Like the George Clooney effect that’s me!”
“Explain” you went back to laying on his chest, eyes looking up at the starry night.
“Ok so older guys settle down...”
“You’re not old”
“I’m older than you by 10+ years.”
“You don’t act it.”
“Shhh baby let me finish.” He placed his hand over your mouth lazily.
“So older guys like me who people think are a player…”
“Think? Are.” You mumbled under his hand.
“Shhh I’m talking here!” His Boston accent was thick as he playfully hushed you. He tried to be serious, but the giggle threatened through his voice.
“Eventually… ya know… settle down with an educated, independent, success, BEAUTIFUL woman who just happens to be younger than them.”
“Are you saying you’re like George Clooney?” You snorted
“I’m saying you’re my Amal Clooney baby.” He nuzzled his beard into your neck.
“Ok I like that.”
“It’s true, I got lucky with youuuu.” He pursed his lips, looking at you with bloodshot eyes.
“You’re high baby.”
“So are you.” He giggled
“Yeah I am.” Your giggles soon turned into a fit of laughter.
“You know what we should do?” He cupped his hand around your ear, whispering into it. Even though it was just you two on the porch. Cuddled under a singular blanket on the outdoor couch, lit up by artificial light as you watched the stars.
“Make popcorn and go watch Fantasia.” You bit your lip up at him.
“I wasn’t gonna suggest that but it’s a way better idea than what I was thinking.”
“What were you thinking?”
“We go for a walk around the block.”
“Chris, we did that an hour ago…”
“Was that an hour ago? Did we actually? Well… what if somethings changed?”
“In an hour…?”
“You don’t know Y/N, you just don’t.” He put on a serious tone to the ridiculous suggestion which made you burst out laughing.
“Yeah, no you’re right maybe in the hour since we last walked around, a new owl has appeared.” You got up from his arms and started to make you way inside.
“Ya never know!” He quickly followed up behind you. You got up too fast and suddenly realised the effects of the drug had hit you more than you expected. Wobbling slightly, you almost fell before Chris caught you in his arms, quick on your step.
“Easy girl.”
“Omg why is the floor moving!”
“It’s not your just stoned out of your mind… come on take my arm.” You wrapped both of your hands around his large bicep as he eased you through the back door back into the house, closing it behind you two. You looked like a storybook witch wrapped up in the tartan blanket.
“Ok popcorn.” Chris clapped his hands together as you made your way into the kitchen. You sat on the bench seat and watched as Chris just stared mindlessly into the pantry.
“Bottom shelf.”
“I know I just forgot how much food we have… holy shit… Y/N.. have you seen this?”
“Chris!”
“Yeah sorry sorry but wow what a nice pantry.” He shook his head in disbelief, dopey smile planted on his face as he bent down to grab the popcorn.
You watched as he slowly and methodically read the instructions on the packet, rubbing his face a few times to focus on the task.
“Do you need help?” You looked at him
“No it’s fine, don’t get up, but just quickly, does it matter which way I put it in? Like will the kernels get confused?”
You sniggered at the insinuation that kernels get “confused” and the way his words kind of slurred when he spoke
“Turn it over.”
He turned it over still looking at you for clarification
“What does it say in big red letters?”
Chris moved the packet around a couple times bringing it closer to his face, inspecting the writing “This.. way… up.”
He looked up at you with a smirk “God you’re so smart baby.” Leaning over to kiss you on the forehead. He put in the microwave and grabbed his phone, putting on music as he waited for it to pop.
Chris loved to put on 70s disco when he was high so when he landed on Young Hearts Run Free you couldn’t stop laughing at his ridiculous yet shockingly good dance moves as he mouthed the words and put on a little show for you.
You got up and decided to join him as he took you in his arms, doing exaggerated spins, turns and hip thrusts into your direction. Grabbing you close when you tried to move away, holding you back against his chest as he swayed you in front of the microwave, leaving wet sloppy kisses on your neck.
“Chris… stop! It tickles!” You laughed, reflexes forcing your chin into your neck as you felt the vibrations of his laugh on your shoulder.
Once your little dance party was over and you had settled on the couch, exaggerating your annoyance at the fact that you had to go back to sharing your makeshift witch’s cloak. Chris turned on Fantasia.
“Come closer.” He cooed.
“Chris I’m right here.”
“Yeah, but I want you on top of me.” He groaned like a disgruntled toddler.
“Fine!” You moved your hips onto his lap, leaning back into his chest.
“Besides you get paranoid and hit the ceiling at the scary part.”
You instantly froze in his arms “omg I forgot about that part.”
Chris laughed “How do you forget, last time we did this you hid under the blanket and cried TURN IT OFF! TURN IT OFF!” He was full belly laughing now reminiscing at the memory.
“And you just laughed! It is scary! With the fire and the weird bat thing!”
“Y/N… it’s a fucking DISNEY movie!” He was wheezing at this point, his whole body laughing, threatening the stability of your position on his lap but he was quick to keep the strong grip of his arm around your waist.
“Ok ok… hahahaha… god… that’s… ok… fine we’ll watch something else.” The remote still in his hands as he backspaced the search.
“Let’s say it together on 3.” You turned to look at him.
“We are both gonna say the same thing aren’t we?” He quirked an eyebrow up, eyeing you with a smirk.
“You’re definitely thinking what I’m thinking.” Your eyes widened, flipping yourself over so your hands lay on his chest and you’re face to face.
“3” he said
“2” you said
“1… Rick and Morty” you said in unison
“God this is why I’m gonna marry you, holy shit!” He laughed, his head falling back.
You woke up to the sound of birds chirping. You and Chris still on the couch, popcorn kernels spread amongst you both as he snored peacefully, grip lazily on your back as you noticed the small patch of drool on his shirt from you, and Netflix asking if you are still watching. Realising you had fallen asleep on the couch in a high haze, you shut off the TV and went back to cuddling your boyfriend, who instinctively kissed your forehead and pulled you closer towards him.
No One Disrespects Chris’s Girl
Summary: Your Chris’s girlfriend and an interviewer talks smack about you.
WARNINGS: Swearing, big mad Chrissy, little angst, protective Chris
A/N: Something about Chris in protective mode makes me... hmmm... you’ll see.
DISCLAIMER: All characters and events written, even those based on real people are entirely fictional and are no representation or comment of said characters in real life.
Chris settled himself into the director’s chair as an assistant came over to adjust his mic.
He was doing press rounds his new movie, and it was his last interview for the day. So far, he had really appreciated some of the questions asked about the movie and his future projects and enjoyed catching up with journalists he had worked with before. But he was eager to get home into bed with you.
You preferred your privacy so besides the casual question as to how you were doing, journalists were warned to not venture into asking about your life or your relationship with Chris well before the interview began.
Chris was getting the run down from Meg, this was a new journalist who Chris hadn’t worked with previously, an online gossip blog called GoFlow, that presented their interviews in video form via YouTube.... blah… blah... Seemed sound enough, nothing Chris hadn’t done before. He was expecting the 20 minutes interview block to go by smoothly, answer some of the questions he had already received with a slight variation, get a photo for their blog, maybe even sign a t-shirt for someone’s nephew and what not. These things were usually very straight forward.
It was 10 minutes after 4 and the new guy was already late. It isn’t a great look, but Chris was patient and was happy to go overschedule to get the blog what they needed.
In came, came the journalist, talking obnoxiously on the phone in the corner of the room.
“Yeah bro, I’m interviewing Captain America… its sick! I bet I could get him to come to boys’ night. Holy shit imagines the chicks we’d pull... alright yeah bro I gotta go do this interview I’ll call you back.”
Chris looked over to Megan, mouthing ‘what the fuck’ she just shook her head in disappointment making a mental note to blacklist them if this gets any worse.
Chris was a little taken back by the brashness of not only taking a phone call from your buddy when you’re 10 minutes late to your job but also to talk so loudly about going for drinks with a guy you haven’t met and using him to pick up chicks?
Fuck me.
He realised then and there that this guy was not gonna be easy to work with even if it was just for the next 20 minutes.
“Hey Chris! Buddy, big fan of your work, I’m Miles, let’s get this started shall we.”
Chris offered him a polite handshake “Nice to meet you, Miles.” Not.
The red dot on the camera facing the two across from each other, started blinking, signaling it was rolling.
It started off ok, yeah, he asked the basic questions about filming with said co-star and what training Chris had to go for to pull of stunts etc. But Chris, being the professional he is, hid his tiredness, putting on a smile for the camera, and answered the questions charmingly and honestly.
“So, Chris, you’ve been with your girlfriend y/n for 2 years now, correct?”
“Yeah, I have she’s amazing, couldn’t ask for anyone better to have by my side.”
Hoping that was the end of it.
“From the little info you two have shared with the public it seems she has a regular job that’s got to be kind of different from yours huh?”
Chris was getting a little agitated about the questions regarding you. Not because he didn’t like talking about you just the fact, he referred to your job as “regular”. Sure, you worked a 9-5 but the work you did for the community was far from ordinary and inspired him daily.
“I wouldn’t say she has a regular job per say, yes our jobs are different but she’s just as a passionate and hardworking in her incredible role at (insert organisation) as I am about acting, she does amazing work and I’m incredibly proud of her.”
“Do you ever question her intentions? I mean it seems like she doesn’t earn a lot of money and it’s probably very convenient for someone like her to shack up with a moneybag like yourself? It’s also interesting you chose her compared to some of the models you have dated in the past. I don’t know about you, but I’d take the model over the chubby normie any day ya know? ha ha.”
Chris saw red.
How dare this guy shows up late and then insult the women he loves to not only suggest she’s using him for money but to call his beautiful partner, “chubby”? How you looked was none of this guy’s fucking business, to compare you to his exes who were exes for a reason was unreasonable. Any suggestion you were a gold-digger was also absolutely ridiculous since you hated Chris spending money on you without reason. You worked hard day in, day out for the things you have and never asked Chris for a dime.
“Go fuck yourself.”
“Ummm excuse me?”
“You heard me, go fuck yourself. How fucking dare, you show up late, regurgitate basic ass questions and then go onto insult the woman I love.”
Chris got up from his seat, ripping off the mic and looming over Miles, a member of his team came forwards lousily placing an arm in between Chris and the douchebag journalist.
“Ya know its assholes like you I’d take a lot of pleasure in beating the fuck up.” His thick Boston accent prominent in every word he spat. His finger firmly pointed towards the journalist’s throat.
The journalist went mute in his seat holding his hands up in defence, practically shivering with fear as to what the 6ft jacked actor was going to do to him.
Chris quickly exited the room before he caught a felony for laying his hands on the guy.
Chris didn’t tell you what happened in the interview. But he didn’t need to because shortly after someone leaked the clip.
The internet went nuts in Chris’s favour.
“Chris Evans defends partner against arrogant journalist” “SWOON ALERT: Chris Evans gets BIG MAD” “Miles Darcy FIRED after Chris Evans interview stunt” “101 Reasons Chris Evans is every woman’s dream man staring with his infamous interview in which he defends his girlfriend” “Don’t F*ck with Chris Evans” “Chris Evans calls out sexist remarks made against girlfriend”
While press was good, your main concern was how this reflected on Chris’s image.
Sat in your shared living room, looking up from your phone as you scrolled through the endless articles on the interview. You looked up at your boyfriend who was pacing the room. Still furious at the comments.
“You didn’t have to defend me you know.”
“I didn’t have to DEFEND you!? Y/N when an asshole says shit about you TO MY FACE, there’s no way in fucking hell, I’m going to sit there and treat em with kindness.”
“Yeah, I know baby, but you threatened him… on camera!”
“And you know what? I’d do it again. Nothing and I mean nothing is more important to me then you and my family. You are my family. And no one, especially not some scummy asshole journalist is going to get away with saying that shit about you. It is my job… you get me? MY JOB to protect you.”
You sighed. He was right. Maybe his approach was extreme, but Chris was stubborn and this time he was stubborn for good reason. The guy was a fucking asshole.
You walked towards him, closing the space between you both. Wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down towards your chest. He instantly tightened his grip around you and you could feel him ease into your hug with a heavy sigh.
“Thank you for defending me.” You whispered into his head.
“I’m sorry for yelling but yeah, I don’t regret doing it. And if I ever saw that asshole again, I swear to-”
“I know.” Pressing your finger to his lips to silence him. You moved him to look at you. “I know.” Nodding your head for emphasis.
“I love that about you… the way you’d drop anything to save me, or in this case go absolutely ape shit to defend my honour. And that’s why you’re my real-life superhero, baby.” Your fingers now cupping his jaw.
And… it was pretty hot watching you get mad at him with your ole boston accent.” You smiled at your protector.
“God, I love you.” He shook his head leaning down to kiss you.