#chris evams one shot

[weirdochick56]

Enhanced- Bucky Barnes Chapter Four

Bucky Barnes x Mutant!Reader

Warnings: A violent scene is described in this chapter. A tiny bit of angst. 

Disclaimers: I don’t own any MCU characters/plots mentioned.

Word Count: 2, 484 words

(Gif’s not mine!)

Read Chapter Three Here!!

***

The darkness that surrounded you was serene. Calm and welcoming almost. You expected it to be cold and dark, but...it’s warm and enlightening. You figure it’s because you feel a part of the darkness.  

It took you in, accepted you and embraced your every flaw. From the ones engraved on your soul to the ones decorating your skin and mind. 

It didn’t push, it didn’t expect anything of you, thus it didn’t pressure you.

 You felt safe and at peace as our body floated in never-ending blackness. You were alone, but you didn’t feel like it.

 Suddenly, a strong force came in the opposite direction and sucked you through a small hole. A light. 

You release a gut-wrenching scream and your eyes fly open. 

It all happens so fast. You sit up and gasp, taking in a huge gulp of air, as much as you lungs could take in one breath.

 A bright light hits you directly in the eyes, forcing you to release a small groan and screw them shut, laying back down. Then your hearing tunes in.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

The beeping has become erratic. You cautiously open your crusty, dry eyes when you hear shuffling beside you, something warm is moving your hand.

When you look over, your head still hazy, the first thing you see is Bucky. His eyes are wide and his mouth is moving erratically, but you can’t seem to make out anything he’s saying. 

You squint your eyes, trying to read his lips. And then your ears zoom into his words. “...okay?”

“What?” says the words hurt your throat. They’re weak and cracking. 

He grips your hand tighter, his eyes glossy with unshed tears. “I’m going to get you a doctor okay?” He doesn’t wait for you to answer before releasing your hand and running out of the room.

“Bucky wa-” your hand is left outstretched towards the doorway.

*

“Okay miss Y/l/n. It seems all your vital signs are just about right.” The doctor, a chubby middle-aged man with a retreating hairline, smiles sympathetically at you. 

You nod stiffly, shifting your gaze over to Bucky, who’s leaning on a wall all the way on the other side of the room, his arms crossed over his chest and his concerned eyes trailed on you. Once your gazes meet, he’s quick to look away. 

The doctor clears his throat, gaining your attention and looking between you two. “I’ll leave you to rest then. I’ll be back in a few hours.” He throws Bucky a small smile and nods then leaves, closing the door lightly behind you.

“Why did you do it?” As soon as the door closes, Bucky blurts out the seemingly pressing question.

Your head snaps towards him and you frown. “Buck-”

“No,” he stalks over to you, his jaw clenched. “Why Y/n? I-I just. I-I n-” he pauses his breaking speech and lets a small sigh leave his lips, closing his eyes tightly. 

Your heart squeezed painfully in your chest. He finally opens his eyes, they’re damp, his jaw clenched so hard, it’s difficult to believe it wasn’t broken by now. 

“I need to know why y-you’d ever even consider-”

You interrupt him, your voice soft. “C-can we not talk about this? I,” you swallow the lump in your throat. “ I don’t feel comfortable.”

He grips the corners of your bed tightly, his knuckles turning white and his eyes set on your bandaged wrists, which you self-consciously hide from his view. “Y/n, you almost died. You can’t really expect me-”

You look him in the eyes, your own pleading. “Please Bucky.”

He scoffs, hangs his head and nods. His response is but a whisper. “Fine.” 

You sag at his compliant response, relief flooding you. After a second of tense silence, you decide to break it.

“Where is everybody?” 

He throws you a look, conveying the fact that he knew you were trying to change the subject, but true to his word doesn’t comment on it. “They’re waiting outside. You scared us doll.” He looks you in the eye then chuckles humorlessly. 

You hate to admit it, but you had were disappointed he hadn’t been personally affected by the whole ordeal. You know it’s wrong to feel this way, and you feel horrible about it, but you also can’t help it. 

Biting your lip, you elude his gaze, fiddling with the paper-thin hospital sheets laying on you. “That wasn’t my intention. I thought no one would notice.” Your last sentence is uttered reluctantly, scared of Bucky’s reaction to your confession.

Bucky lets out a small, incredulous scoff. “Not your intention Y/n? Y-you...are you kidding me? Did you really think no one would notice that you-” the vein in his neck is sticking out. He runs his hand through his face, a frustrated habit of his. Then his gaze flickers back to you, significantly softer and filled concern. 

“Do you know what it was like to find you laying in that bathroom floor, Y/n?” he swallows thickly, clearly pushing back tears. “I,” he holds his hands out, staring at them with a terrified glance. “I held your limp body in my hands. There was blood everywhere. Your blood, on me.” He looks down at himself. You suck in a sharp breath. 

He fists his hands and closes his eyes painfully. “And the worst part? I saw the life leave your eyes. I kept begging you to stay with me. Not to leave because,” his hand snakes into yours. You squeeze his hand tightly, holding back tears of your own. He seemed to understand what you meant and continued speak in a broken voice. “Because the thought of you dead, Y/n, terrified me. Lord knows I need you.” A single tear slides down his cheek, leaving a small wet trail on his cheek.

He doesn’t make a move to wipe it away, his eyes trained on you. He stares into your eyes and you do the same, ignoring your racing heart in the process, and searching for any type of sign that he was lying. But you can’t find anything that wasn’t sincerity and painful indignation in them. 

Your breath hitches in your throat at his words. What did he mean he needs you? You only just started talking. 

And yet, as you asked yourself the question, you realize, James Buchanan Barnes is the only person that could understand what you’d gone through. He might not know what it was, but he had the look. The one of someone tortured by their past. The same look you had. 

Maybe James Buchanan Barnes cared and trusted you enough to see this side of him because you and he were so similar. 

Maybe James Buchanan Barnes and you were destined to meet. 

***

A few hours fly by. Bucky leaves and the rest of the Avengers suddenly invade your hospital room. His still words float around in your brain a dozen times more. And you blush profusely, trying to repress the small smile you’d always feel creeping onto your face. It wasn’t of much help.

“Y/n?! Oh my God, you scared me!” Wanda rushes over as soon as her eyes land on you and tugs you into a bone-crushing hug. She buries her face into your hair. “Don’t ever do that again, please.” You smile and pat her back, holding back the urge to reciprocate her worried statement with one reminding her you couldn't possibly promise her that. 

Then, Tony runs over, taking your hands into his, his eyes stare at you with such heartbreaking sadness, it’s hard to not feel guilty.  “Oh, Buttercup...I’m so sorry.” 

You gulp, nodding and offering a forced smile. He looks like he wants to say more, but doesn’t do anything further. Something you're incredibly thankful for.

One by one, the Avengers offer you hugs and Thor even brought you a huge teddy bear, stating “So you don’t feel lonely at night Lady Y/n.” Your heart warms at their words and caring gestures. 

It’s sad, but you’d never felt more a part of the team than now. 

Steve and Bucky are nowhere in sight, which only serves to sadden and worry you. But you push those feelings aside, focusing on the lightening mood the rest of the Avengers had created in your small hospital room. 

Finally, the question burning deep in your brain you frown. “Hey, guys? Where are Bucky and Steve?” 

The room immediately goes silent and your eyebrows only plunge lower. The Avengers look at eachother. “What?”

Tony looks over at you, sighing. “They’re...talking outside.”

You raise a brow. “Why do I get the feeling you’re lying?” 

Tony lets out another sigh, looking directly at Natasha, who widens her eyes generously and shakes her head. You scoff. 

“You know, for a super spy you aren’t very sneaky Nat.” Her head snaps over to you and she smiles sheepishly. 

“Where are they?”

Tony lets his shoulders sag, defeated. “They- Y/n. I’m gonna tell you-”

“Tony, don’t,” Natasha warns.

Tony dismisses her with his hand, then turns back to you. “But you have to promise me you won’t leave this room if I do.”

You huff. “Deal. Now spill.”

“Steve and Bucky...are,” Tony swallows, seeming regretful about opening his mouth. You glare at him. 

“They’re what Tony?”

Tony presses his lips together. “Well, you know, it started out as a small discussion then,” he shrugs. “They started getting a little more aggressive with eachother and-”

“Tony.”

“Well Bucky, sort of, kind of,-”

“Tony!”

Tony jumps, startled. 

Thor laughs loudly from behind him. “I think what the man of iron is trying to express in words lady Y/n, is that the soldier for the colder seasons drepa the captain.

When all you offer as a response is small, confused look, he grins amusedly, clarifying. “Or as you Americans would like to call it; Bucky snapped Steve in half like a twig.”

Your eyes widen in alarm and you rush to take off your blanket. “He what? W-where are they? Is anyone seriously hurt?” 

Tony’s eyes widen with urgency and Natasha is quick to cut in, her voice, as usual, monotone. “I think Thor’s being a little dramatic.”

Thor glares at her, “Hey!”

Natasha continues, disregarding his small protest. “Bucky didn’t kill Steve. He just...roughed him up a bit.” She shrugs nonchalantly. 

“Uh, you call giving him a broken nose, two fractured ribs, and a black eye, roughing him up?” Tony puts his fingers in quotes and throws her an incredulous look.

“What?”

“Okay, maybe it was a bit harsh, but Steve deserved it,” Natasha admits. 

“Guys.”

“I agree, he was being a dick to Y/n. But did you see the way he jumped on Steve when he mentioned Y/n? It was so slick!” Wanda gushes with a small smirk.

“Guys.”

Thor snickers. “It was one of the most savage yet satisfying things my old Norseman eyes have ever had the pleasure of seeing.”

Tony turns to him, horrified. “You find this amusing, Thor?! He could’ve killed him!”

“Oh come on Tony. Don’t be overdramatic, Steve is strong enough,” Clint scoffs. 

“Guys!” All their heads snap towards you and growl. 

“What the fuck happened between them?!” 

***

BUCKY’S POV (A FEW HOURS EARLIER)

I step out of Y/n’s hospital room, my heart beating at a rapid pace. Goddamn it. Why did she have to make me feel so damn vulnerable?

I look up just to find Steve standing there, the rest of the team close behind, and a concerned look etched on his face as he headed for Y/n’s door. 

“Bucky. You were with her in the ambulance, have they told you anything?”

I can hear him talking to me. I can even see his facial muscles and his mouth moving, but I couldn’t register anything he was saying. All I could really hear and see was red. The more he talks, the angrier I get. 

“Is she okay?”

That registered at least. I clench my teeth and fist my hands. 

Steve frowns. “Buck?”

“Leave.” Is all I growl, refusing to let him so much as look at Y/n’s door. 

“What-”

“I said; leave.” I’m now standing nose to nose with him, anger pulsing through my veins like never before. 

Steve clenches his jaw. “I don’t know what’s wrong with you Bucky, but I’m gonna go see Y/n. So if you’ll excuse me,” just as Steve tries to sidestep me I beat him to it and push his chest back. 

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with me is that that girl in there,” I throw my thumb over my shoulder aggressively. “Has been through hell and back. She doesn’t need you to remind her of why she did what she did.” Steve swallows thickly but continues looking at me evenly, refusing to back down. “Leave, man. This is the last time I’m gonna say it. You don’t deserve to see her.” I glance at the team. “In fact, none of you do. You did this to her.”

Steve scoffs. “No, Bucky. Y/n did this to herself it was her choice.”

I can see Tony cringe from the corner of my eye. Wrong choice of words Steve. 

I look at him calmly. “Say that again. I dare you.”

Steve squares his shoulders and puffs his chest. “I said; we had no influence in Y/n’s choice. She was the one who decided to-”

I didn’t wait for him to finish, pounding on him and bringing my fist down onto his face. I heard a sickening crack come from his nose but I didn’t stop, punching at everything I could get my knuckles on. “It’s...all...your...fault.”

Honestly, I don’t know where the hell I got the strength to take Captain America down in one move and on top of that be beating him to a pulp, but right now I don’t care.

He finally manages to push me off him, his face bloody and his breaths coming in labored pants. Nurses and doctors are rushing over to see what the commotion was all about. 

I don’t wait for them, dodging the aiding Avengers’ hands with a level of stealth even I didn’t know I had. I was so angry. I kick him in the ribs, ignoring his painful grunts, and sit on his stomach, my hands lunging for and tightly gripping his throat. 

I could only see red flashing behind my lids. I was pissed, sure, but I would never kill Steve, not really.

Steve continues to scratch at my hands and the rest of the Avengers are trying to pry me off. I scowl. “I should kill you for what you did, but I won’t. Believe it or not, Y/n would never forgive me for it. Even after you hurt her so much.” Then I stood up, ripped my arms from the team’s grips and stormed off, bumping my shoulder harshly with Natasha’s on my way out. 

Read Chapter Five Here!!

***

Okay, here it is folks!!

I honestly need a Bucky in my life, lol.

Anywho, as always reply, request, send asks about ANYTHING you want to ask me.

A Special Thanks To:

@jessikared97 @sherlockedtash88 and @lilypalmer1987 my brave-souled forevers! (lol)

As well as:

@wantingtobekorra

@littlephoenix-fire

@burningcoffeetimetravel

@superwholockwannabe

@babyplutoszx2

@stydia-4-ever

@animegirlgeeky 

@moli1497 -my lovely “Enhanced” people.

[weirdochick56]

Weirdochick’s Master List

SPN (SUPERNATURAL)

Dean Winchester:

Series

Desensitized^- Demon!Dean x Virgin!reader (on hiatus)

Past Lives- Dean Winchester x Photographer!reader AU- (on hiatus)

The Seduction Game- Dean Winchester x Reader x Klaus Mikaelson (on hiatus)

One Shots 

The Shirt- Dean Winchester x Reader

Gentle Notes- Dean Winchester x Reader

Dress- Jealous!Dean Winchester x Plus-size!Reader

Imagines

Next To Me- Dean Winchester x Reader Song Imagine

the Sweetest Sin- Priest!Dean Winchester x Reader

Sam Winchester:

Series

(None for now)

One Shots

Car Ride*- Sam x Reader

Imagines

(None for now)

Castiel:

Series 

(none for now)

One Shots

Human Realization- Castiel x reader

Imagines

(none for now)

*

MCU (Marvel Cinematic Universe)

Bucky Barnes:

Series 

Enhanced^- Bucky Barnes x Mutant!Reader (on hiatus)

One Shots

Lollipop*- Bucky Barnes x Reader

I love you too, you big dork- Bucky Barnes x Reader

Imagines

Screen^- Bucky Barnes x shy!reader song imagine

The Bodyguard- Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Princess!Reader

The Bodyguard 2- Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Princess!Reader

Steve Rogers:

Series

Sin- Biker!Steve Rogers x Reader

One Shots

(none for now)

Imagines

(None for now)

Pietro Maximoff

Series

(none for now)

One Shots

Speedy Savior- Pietro Maximoff x reader

Imagines

(none for now)

*

SoA (Sons of Anarchy)

Jax Teller:

Series

(None for now)

One Shots

Love You Too Darlin’^- Jax Teller x reader

Imagines

(none for now)

*

TWD (The Walking Dead)

Negan:

Series

(none for now)

One Shots

don’t poke the bear*- Negan x Reader

Imagines

(none for now)

*

Peaky Blinders

Thomas Shelby:

Series

Oblivious^*- Thomas Shelby x reader (on hiatus)

One Shots

(coming soon)

Imagines

Oblivious^*- Thomas Shelby x Reader

John Shelby:

Series

(none for now)

One Shots

(coming soon)

Imagines

Troublemaker- John Shelby x Reader

Michael Gray:

Series

(none for now)

One Shots

(coming soon)

Imagines

Controlling- Michael Gray x reader

*

The Society

Campbell Eliot:

Series

(none for now)

One Shots

(coming soon)

Imagines

Trapped^- Campbell Eliot x reader

Harry Bingham:

Series

(none for now)

One Shots

(coming soon)

Imagines

(none for now)

*

Actors

Jensen Ackles: 

Series

(none for now)

One Shots

(none for now)

Imagines

(none for now)

Chris Evans:

Series

Mr. Evans I*^- Teacher!Chris Evans x Student!Reader (Completed)

Mr. Evans II*^- (Sequel to Mr. Evans I)- Teacher!Chris Evans x Student!Reader (Ongoing)

One Shots

Boggs- a reference to “she’s all that” Highschool AU Jock!Chris Evans x Nerd!reader

Imagines

(none for now)

Sebastian Stan:

Series

Designated Lover^ (taken from its Imagine counterpart)- Sebastian Stan x Actress!Reader x Diego Tinoco (on hiatus)

One Shots

(coming soon)

Imagines

Designated Lover^-  Sebastian Stan x Actress!Reader x Diego Tinoco (has now been made into a series of the same name!!)

Opposites Attract^*- Devil!Sebastian Stan x Angel!Reader

***

[weirdochick56]

Mr. Evans- Chris Evans AU Chapter Two

Teacher!Chris Evans x Student!Reader

Warnings: A bit sexual. Sexual themes. Teacher x Student relationship. Cancer discussion. Understanding!Chris. Explicit Language Y'all!! (But wth. What’s new?)

Disclaimers: I don’t own Chris or you.

Word Count: 3, 291 words

A/N: A very, very, very special thanks to @jessikared97 for rough beta-ing this!!! (Lol, I literally stole the phrase she uses for me on her writing.) Also, I might’ve gotten a bit more NSFW? It....just sort of happened because this character isn't just invested emotionally but also sexually to this beautiful man so yeah...

Read Chapter One Here!!

***

(Gif’s not mine!)

You suck in a sharp breath, your eyes wide.

This had to be a sin. A completely irreversible sin that would make for an immediate ticket to hell.

How could one man be so fucking gorgeous?

When you had decided to actually make your way to Mr. Evans’s classroom eighth period, you never imagined what you would be faced with. Were reluctant to even be here, even. How could this -the free periods spent in an enclosed space with one of the most intoxicating beings on earth- be of any benefit to you?

How would it ever help you forget him?

Yet, by some unexplained reason, here you were, standing face to face with your English teacher and trying really, really hard not to say something stupid or blurt something completely out of order. Because Goddam, he was breathtakingly gorgeous.

Your eyes trail subconsciously over his figure. A tight-fitting T-shirt that hugged him in all the right places. His strong chest was jutting out and through his jacket, his arms, big and muscular looked about ready to rip the thin material open.

And my God, his jeans were what really killed you. Or your sense of dignity and self-respect. Whichever you prefer.

They left abso-fucking-lutely nothing to the imagination. His bulge was huge and you suddenly found your lip making its way between your teeth. You clamp down on it as if to hold on to any sort of self-control you had left because right now all your mind could conjure up was you, bent over his desk, and him fucking you senseless.

His hair was a mess too. A sexy mess. The soft blonde spikes were now tousled and gave off an I-just-got-out-of-bed vibe that made you weak in the knees. You also wondered if he looked like this after sex or-

Shit. Yeah, definitely not good.

He stands in the doorway, the door still wide open and try as you might, you don’t miss the way he sizes you up, taking in your unusual and, hopefully, striking, outfit. One you couldn’t help but, despite being practically shoved into it by Margo, pray he liked.

You actually put effort into your looks and applied a hint of mascara to accentuate your long lashes, lip gloss and styled your normally tied-up hair into loose waves. You also put on a spritz of one of your mom’s sweet-smelling perfume.

Margo, who’d surprised you by coming over to your house last night, had put together your outfit. A quite decent one, too. A simple maroon skirt, black heel boots and a slightly low-cut tank top of the same color of the skirt paired with a black cardigan.  In sharp contrast to your normal jeans, t-shirt, and converse, you made it a point to remind your best friend you weren’t trying to demonstrate too much effort or seduce your teacher in any way.

But who were you kidding? You wanted him to at least look at you. Not so much like you in that way (you weren’t that optimistic) but merely glance at you…differently.

And boy did he come through.

His eyes were trailing over your bare legs, taking in their shape and the soft exposed skin. Thank God you shaved. Then the pools of blue discreetly move to your chest, settling on the teasing skin.

Mission accomplished?

You were completely shocked and pleased with yourself for seemingly gaining his attention. Maybe not in a way to get him to like you per se, but in a way to get a small switch to go off in his brain than ensured he saw you in a slightly different light. 

You shifted nervously, smiling widely in your head at how taken he clearly was by your appearance. “Mr. Evans?” you call out his name, snapping him out of his trance-like state.

He swallows, looking at you with full-blown dilated pupils. “Uh…yes?” His voice was hoarse. 

Had you really been the on to cause such a reaction?- no, stop getting your hopes up Y/n. It was probably something else.

He smiles and rubs his neck sheepishly, clearing his throat. “Oh, uh yes…come in,” he breathes the last part when your eyes meet and you gain a bit of confidence, smiling warmly at him then walking into the class whilst trying your very best not to press up against him.

But that was near impossible with him -a completely built hunk- and you -a girl with far too many books in your bag- to not so much as touch each other within the width of that tiny doorway.

You shiver when your side grazed his front in the slightest. You could feel his chest and his rock hard abs and oh- sweet merciful God. His crotch brushes lightly against your arm and it takes an incredible amount of energy from you not to simply beg him to take you right then and there.

You keep your head down, missing the way his breath catches in his throat and his muscles tense. You’re unwilling to allow him to see the intense blush on your cheeks, neck or ears. Thankfully though, your hair made a wonderful shield.

You finally make it to the inside of the vacant classroom and turn around to face him, eyebrows raised. “What would you like me to do?”

He mumbles something inaudible under his breath and even though you strain your ears as much as possible, you still don’t comprehend anything he’s said.

Then he sighs, closing the door before turning back to you. “Well, first off, you can put that down somewhere.” He motions loosely to your bookbag.

You nod, sliding the straps off and placing it neatly on a chair. “And now we can start. Come ‘ere.” he nods you towards his desk and you take a deep breath, following him with your nerves on edge.

He slides gracefully onto the chair in front you, waiting patiently for you to clumsily plop down on the chair on the opposite side of the desk. You blush, not only because you were a fucking clutz, but because you remembered the dirty thoughts passing through your head whenever you looked at this desk. Dirty thoughts that had left you a flushed, breathless mess more than once.

You shake your head, reminding yourself that feeling that way about your teacher wasn’t right. At all.

The corners of his eyes crinkle endearingly as he grins at you mannerisms. You’re sure he can tell you’re insanely nervous.

 “Relax Y/n. I don’t bite…Too much.” He winks playfully at you and your heart picks up speed, hammering harshly against your ribs.

You can’t help but blush, despite your rigorous fighting of it, and tuck a rogue strand of hair behind your ear. Was he trying to kill you? How the hell did anyone expect you to get over your feelings towards him if he was always so fucking irresistible?

Get your shit together, Y/l/n. Your mental growl, at least, is of some help when finding composure of sorts.

Then his face turns stern and you’re left high-strung once more. “I think we should establish what these free periods are going to look like before we even start doing anything, Y/n.”

You straighten up, refusing to make this time with him anything but professional. Your grades depended on it. “Okay.”

He nods firmly at you, intertwining his long, slender fingers and placing them on the desk. “It’s also important for me that you know why I’m doing this,” he looks into your eyes and once again, you find yourself lacking in regular breathing.

It suddenly dawns on you that you were all alone with the man. No students to hide your longing stares behind, no one between the both of you creating a safe distance. This only made things harder.

Professional Y/n. Remember, professional.

You bring your voice up, intent on seeming confident. “Why are you doing this Mr. Evans? I mean, aside from pity.”

He frowns, shaking his head. “I am not doing this because of pity Y/n. I’m doing this because I care. About you.”

Oh shit.

You wait for him to joke or brush off the comment, and when he doesn’t, you’re forced to push through the lump in your throat and your impossibly quick-beating heart. You cross your legs in order to stop your much-anticipated leg-jiggling.  “Why?” that’s the only thing on your mostly-blank mind right now.

He smiles ominously. “There aren’t many people like you out there in the world, Y/n.”

Vague. Very vague.

You scoff. “Are you really going to give me the ‘you’re unique and there’s no one like you’ speech Mr. Evans?” You lean back casually. “Didn’t peg you as the bullshiting type.” you can’t help but let your snark slip, pissed at the fact that he thought he could just say something sweet and make you weak in the knees without repercussion.

He stares at you blankly for a split second, his expression thoughtful. Then he smiles. “I see you took my cursing comment to heart, Y/n…good. I had a feeling you were really foul-mouthed.”

You purse your lips, looking at him straight in the eyes to convey an unflinching state which was never really there when you were near the man. “You’re right, I am.” At least when I’m alone, you add mentally. Not anymore though. Having him be a part of your life more than before meant you did a whole lot of cursing out loud.

He stares at you longingly, a small smile spreading over his face followed by a small head shake and humorless chuckle. “You are unique Y/n. I mean, maybe I am a bullshitter and maybe you think I’m lying...” He leans closer, his deep blue gaze set on you. “But trust me when I say that, you are one of a kind sweetheart.”

Freezing in your spot, you blink repeatedly, trying to wrap your head around his words to no avail. He stares back, his face unflinching, not a single regret being displayed. Your stomach churns, doing flips and somersaults.

Then he leans back and smiles charmingly, acting like nothing had happened. Like he didn’t almost kill your heart or called you ‘sweetheart’.

I mean, he had nicknames for his students, as any laid-back teacher would. It wasn’t uncommon, but something about the way he said it unnerved you endlessly. 

...or maybe you were being overdramatic and reading too much into the situation. Maybe it was a simple sweet, innocent, affectionate gesture he had with other students as well. (You wouldn’t put it beneath him with how attentive and mindful of his students he was after all.) 

Either way, it made you feel like a million bucks. 

“Now, here’s what I have in mind. I get to know you and as is expected, you get to know me and we’ll work up from there. Cool?”

You swallow thickly, nodding slowly. Professional has now been flushed down the toilet along with ‘your grades depend on it’.

“Alrighty then,” he rubs his hands together, seemingly excited. “Let’s start off easy. I’ll ask a question then you will.” he looks at you for confirmation.

As if you’d ever say ‘no’ to him. “K.”

He slides closer with his chair, so much so, that your knees brushed against each other. “Favorite color?”

You raise your brows at the simplicity of his question but answer nonetheless. “Black.”

He hums thoughtfully, scratching his beard. “Interesting…Your turn.”

“Favorite candy?” you had many questions you’d like to ask him, but this seemed like a light one to start off with.

He grins. “That’s a hard one, Miss Y/l/n. A hard one indeed. I’d have to say, Yorks.”

You furrow your brows. “What are those?”

He looks genuinely offended. “Well that just won’t do, Miss Y/l/n!” His teasing voice somehow managed to make you smile despite your jitteriness.

He opens a drawer from his desk and pulls out two small silver packs, handing on to you. “Here, taste it.”

You look at him wearily, taking the candy from his hand and tearing the wrapper open. You stare at the small circle before looking up at Mr. Evans. 

“Go ahead,” he urges, opening his own. You shrug, biting onto the dark chocolate.

Your eyes widen almost immediately after and Mr. Evans looks at you expectantly. When you finish swallowing, you silently look down at the candy in your hand.

“Well?”

You beam at him “It’s delicious! Minty and chocolaty all at once and it melts into your mouth.”

He chuckles, chewing politely on his own. “Exactly.”

***

The next half hour is spent eating from his seemingly endless stash of Yorks and asking simple questions. “Winter or summer?” “Coffee or tea?” (he answered coffee which only made you like him 100x more.) “What’s your favorite song?” “Who’s your favorite artist/band?”

The questions were sweet and eased you into a comfortable spot in the conversation. You soon found yourself smiling and joking with your English teacher as if you were long-time friends.

He’d never been more reachable than now.

You finish doubling over in laughter after he tells you a story about his time in college.

Then his eyes shifted to your chest and for a second you thought he’d been staring at your boobs, compelling you to almost cover them with your arms self-consciously.

But then he looked up at you, a gentle smile on his face. “Hey, that pendant…I always see you fiddling with it when you’re nervous. What’s the story?”

You stiffen up, the smile on your face fading and you find yourself instinctively reaching for the small amber piece lined with intricate gold designs. You don’t say anything at first, fiddling with it subconsciously.

He frowns, pursing his lips. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. It’s okay.”

But it clearly wasn’t. His eyes kept flickering curiously to the piece clutched tightly between your fingers. “No, it’s okay,” you whisper.

What are you doing Y/n?! Your mind kept yelling that, but your heart told you he would be careful with the information you were about to release.

“It’s…My mom gave it to me when I was little. B-before she uh-” you gulp, pushing away the stupid tears as best you could. “before the cancer-” You paused, taking a deep breath, “took her away.”

Mr. Evans’s frown deepened and he got off his seat silently, rounding the desk and kneeling in front of you. 

You cross your ankles nervously when you feel his shirt brush up against your legs, making you shiver.

His hand takes yours into his own, giving it a comforting squeeze. Your heart speeds up at the feeling of his strong hand in yours and you try to suppress a shiver at the small shocks of electricity moving through your arm.

He had the hands of a writer, no doubt.

“Hey, hey. You, don’t have to tell me Y/n, really. I get it if it’s too h-” His voice is tender and warm and you hold back the urge to wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, disregarding any and every rule both personal and general.

“No,” you cut him off, looking into his eyes. You squeeze his hand back, taking a deep breath. “I-I want to, if you’d allow it. I wouldn’t want to overwhelm you with my sad ass life story,” you confess quietly with a small, sad yet nervous chuckle.

This was so much more intimate than your wet dreams with him. So, so much more intimate.

He breathed out a small chuckle. “God, you could never do that sweetheart. The goal was to get to know you and listening to your story is vital to accomplishing that goal, right?” He stares into your eyes with a comforting blue gaze and your heart melts as his words because somehow -perhaps a natural, mutual understanding between you two- you know that it’s his excuse to not only reassure comfort within you but ask permission to hear this story.

Permission granted.

You gulp. “My mom…I don’t really remember her. Only the smell of her hair and the warmth of her lips when she kissed my cheek.” Your voice is almost inaudible and you trace your fingers over your cheek softly, right where she used to kiss you.

Mr. Evans is listening intently, respectfully. You know this because even though you aren’t looking up, you can feel his burning gaze on you.

“She met dad when she was my age almost. In a small cafe where she had singing gigs,” you smiled softly at the thought of your mom, beautiful and enticing as she sang softly into a mic with a beautiful voice, drawing your dad in effortlessly.

“He says it was love at first sight. That as soon as his eyes landed on her, he knew she’d be the love of his life.” You scoff. “I don’t usually believe in that, love at first sight. Seems shallow. But somehow, the way he told it to me, with that light glimmering in his eyes and the trace of a small smile…I believe him,” you breathe, looking up at Mr. Evans cautiously. “Pretty foolish huh?”

You expect there to be a grimace or a wince etched on his beautiful face, or even pity in his gentle eyes, but all you see is his complete focus on you and the hint of a smile. “Not at all, sweetheart. She sounds like a beautiful soul, your mom.”

You smile softly, blushing unwillingly once more at his pet name. “She was. Wrote her own songs, performed them too. My dad is going to give me all her song-writing journals when I turn eighteen in a few months.” You whisper the last part, averting your gaze elsewhere.

Mr. Evans hums, looking at you intently. “And you’re…nervous about that?”

You stare at him. In shock at first, because he could read you so well, then in utter confidence because you, for some unknown reason, had complete trust in him with this information.

“I mean yeah. They were was her single most prized possession. She wrote everything she felt in that journal. I-I just don’t know what to expect. Dad refuses to tell me what’s written in there. Maybe a song about me? I mean- did she feel like I wasn’t meant to be born? I was a surprise after all. Made her a teenage mom. Did she- I don’t know…it stresses me out to think about her regretting having me,” you shrug as if your heart doesn’t completely crack in half merely thinking about it. As if you weren’t scared shitless.

Mr. Evans stays silent for a while, contemplating your words. This immediately concerned and embarrassed you. 

You rush to brush over the nonexistent cracks. “I’m so sorry Mr. Evans! We’re here to help me with my grades and here I am, telling you all about my family story and-” your rushed ramblings are cut off by his masculine, velvety voice.

“You have nothing to apologize for Y/n.” He smiles wistfully, pure honesty in his eyes. “I know you probably won’t believe me, but you telling me this- it’s invaluable to me. And I promise I appreciate it more than just to help your grades or whatever. Because I appreciate you as the beautiful, strong person you are.”

Holy mother of sweet seven-pound baby Jesus. He just said you were a beautiful person. Mr. Evans, the man of your dreams, is hearing you rant about your personal life with extreme rigor and not even annoyed by it. And he said you were a strong, beautiful person. Holy moly.

Sweet and understanding and so fucking tempting.

You’re at a loss for words, left to catch your breath, all the while looking into his shimmering eyes.

“I’m sorry- I have to go,” you suddenly say and stand up, ripping yourself away from his touch.

This conversation, his words, his eyes, he- it was all too much. Too overwhelming for you to handle in such a vulnerable state.

You whirl around and rush out of the classroom, ignoring his shouts for you to come back.

This wasn’t okay. This wasn’t right. You’d never told anyone anything you’d told him.

He was undoing you. Peeling away at your hard layers, plowing your wall down, scratching away the protective curtain you’d worked so hard to build around your heart with no effort whatsoever.

A red light flashed behind your eyelids as you continued down the hallway, noting he didn’t follow behind you. Danger! Danger! Danger! 

It was fatal to be near him.

Read Chapter Three Here!!

***

So, yeah...

That just happened...

Honestly Idek you guys! I just love their dynamic and how fucking sweet Chris is, honestly...

Please let me know what you think!! Reply, send asks (ANY questions are welcomed) message me, request. Don’t hesitate to let me know if your amazing selves wanna be tagged!! Do whatever pleases you lovelies!

Please do send feedback, because I’ve -for some reason- become extremely self-conscious of my writing recently. *sigh* Idk what it is...I’ve just been doubting the fuck out of it the past few days and ANY feedback would be of great help.

A special thanks to:

@bombsandsparkles

@meowsekai

@godohammers

@sp2900

@ multifandom-foreverx

@missbosstown

@superwholockwannabe

@supernaturalyloki

@jungkooksbowlingskills

@spettrocoli

@woodworthti666

@tshollandlove

@weirdvishy

@buckysrcse

@doritoevansxwinterschildren  

And of course my forevers!

@jessikared97

@sherlockedtash88

@lilypalmer1987

[weirdochick56]

Mr. Evans- Chris Evans AU

Teacher!Chris Evans x Student!Reader

Warnings: Explicit language. A bit of smuttiness? Nothing between them though...yet ; )

Disclaimers: I don’t own Chris Evans (unfortunately) 

Word Count: 919 words

(the gif is not mine!! Please let me know so I can give you credit!)

A/n: Is anyone else excited about this one?! Because I frigging am!!!!

***

Prologue- 

You nibble on your pencil’s eraser repetitively, feeling incompetent for not being able to focus in the damn class. Not that it was entirely your fault, either. ‘I mean, if the friggin’ teacher would stop being so goddamn gorgeous, maybe I’d actually have a shot at an A in English.’ you chide mentally, not missing the way your heart skipped a beat at the mere glance of the man who made your entire world spin.

Mr. Evans was a tall, gorgeous, and smart hunk. He had all the girls in your school swooning, including you. Maybe it was his beautiful eyes, or his pink plump lips or his soft dirty blonde hair. Or perhaps it was his diligence and kindness that drove you insane. Either way, the man was a work of art. One you could only admire from afar. At least that way, you hoped, your insignificant crush would disperse.

He was standing up right now, turned towards the board and speaking about something. Something you can’t even make out thanks to the perfect view he was giving you of his ass. You bite your lip, imagining what it would be like to have your ankles wrapped around that ass as he pushed inside of yo-

“Ms. Y/l/n!” you snap out of your dirty daydreaming, looking up instantly.

“Huh?” you mumble cluelessly, causing your classmates to giggle and snicker. You immediately flush, feeling ashamed.

Mr. Evans sighs. “Can you read paragraph two on page fifty-four for us, please?” He raises a blonde brow and you feel like your cheeks are being cooked.

“Uh, y-yes.” you clamber to find the page he was speaking of as the other students continued laughing at your flustered state. You quickly thumb through the pages, coming to a halt at your part. You clear your throat, ready to read the passage out loud, but then the bell rings, signaling the end of class. You’re left with your mouth open, ready to speak.

“Okay class, remember to work on your essays! I want them done by next week!” Mr. Evans reminds his students, although most have already bolted out of class.

Letting your shoulders drop defeatedly, you try not to groan, sinking into your seat. ‘Gosh, I wish the ground could just open up and eat me right now.’ you were still a shade of red a tomato would certainly be jealous of, horrified at how much of a fool you’d made out of yourself. Everyone around you rushed to put their stuff away and you remember to do the same, not wanting to be seen by your hot English teacher after your terrible scene.

Shoving your books and pens into your bag in an uncharacteristically muddled manner, you rush to get out of the class as soon as possible, trying your hardest to blend in with the crowd of twenty-some students still filing out of the big classroom.

“Ms. Y/l/n!” his voice is near and you freeze as soon as the melodious sound reaches your ears. Fuck. Shit. Fuck. Shit. Fu-

You sigh dejectedly, plastering a fake polite smile on your face and turning to face him. The rest of your classmates are gone by the time you get to his desk.  Painfully aware of his heavy gaze, you hug the book you were reading tighter to your chest, avoiding it. You can hear him shuffle behind his messy desk, looking for something. “Aha!” he mumbles excitedly under his breath after a few seconds. You reluctantly glance up, curious at what had made your beloved- your teacher whom you could only have professional feeling towards, so excited. 

It was a lunch detention slip. When he notices your concerned frown, he smiles reassuringly, pointing to a chair nearby. “Pull that up please.” you oblige to his request, pushing the fact that his rough voice was enough to make you weak in the knees aside as much as possible.

You plop down in the chair, staring at him silently. You want to curl up in a ball and never come out of it, mostly because just being in his presence brought you incredible amounts of insecurity on your looks and made your anxiety levels go through the roof. He notices your discomfort and offers a friendly grin. “You’re not getting detention for the reason you think, Y/n. Don’t worry. “

You can’t help but sag in relief. “Good, ‘cause my dad would whoop my a-” you cut yourself short, blushing profusely. “Uh. sorry,” you mumble, averting your gaze from his amused one.

He chuckles, nearly knocking the air out of you. He had a gorgeous laugh. “Don’t worry Y/n. It’s fine to curse when we’re alone.” his words are innocent enough, but it’s hard not to snap your head in his direction at how suggestive they sound to your own, perverted, hopeful ears.

He doesn’t seem to notice what he’s said sounded so...wrong. You bite your lip, nodding slowly. He shakes his head with a small, amused smile, returning his attention to the small yellow slip in his big, rough, warm- in his totally not wet-dream-inducing hands and looking at you curiously. “Y/n.” God, your name sounded so good coming out of his lips.

You look at him, eyebrows slightly raised. “Yes, Mr. Evans?” your voice comes out lower and more insecure than you would’ve wanted. You expect him to scold you for having such bad grades in his class. You expect him to give you long a talk about how important it was to pass his class in order to get into a good university. But he doesn’t.

And oh boy, does what he says next make you feel an entire array of emotions.

He smiles. “How would you feel about visiting me during your free period?”

Read Chapter One Here!!

***

Inspiration has struck me in the sexy form of Christopher Robert mothereffin’ Evans. And I’m gonna sound like a complete whore at this point, but again, take me any way you want Chris! (No, seriously. Take me.)

Case in point:

Chris Evans: Who wants to have sex with me?”

Me:

Omg lol. As always, I encourage you to tell me what you think. Comment, reply, send asks, requests. Or even better, send me asks about how to continue my series. Whether it’d be this one or Desensitized and Enhanced.

A special thanks to:

@jessikared97 , @lilypalmer1987 and @sherlockedtash88 for sticking with me through every painfully-cringy fic!