Mr. Evans II- Chris Evans AU Chapter Five
Teacher!Chris Evans X Student!Reader
Warnings: SMUT. It’s mild but still. Explicit language (cause always). ANGSTTTT. Heartbreak. Fluff (if you squint REAL hard). dirty talk *wink, wink*
Disclaimers: I don’t condone any relationships of this kind this is for entertainment purposes only.
People change. Or, well, least you and Mr. Evans had.
Being lightweight, however, was not one of those things for you.
In college your main focus was school, so you weren’t a regular drinker per se. Which is why, when you downed that first sip of the bottle, the burn hit you hard.
You didn’t want to stop though, desperately searching for anything that’d make you feel better and before you knew it, you were drunkenly dancing along to the music on the radio. The volume was turned so high you couldn’t hear yourself think and your body shook like it had a mind of its own.
Which was the whole point, you guess.
You were waving your arms, bottle in hand and singing so loud your neighbors could probably hear.
You were twerking aggressively to the tune of a random party song up until it changed to the familiar tune of Naughty Girl by Beyonce. As if on autopilot, you walked around your living room with a swing to your step and what you hope are sultry eyes.
You shake your hips like you’re a straight-up stripper and you were performing. For who, you ask?
For him, your mind thinks before you can stop it. And you don’t fight it because at the end of the day, no matter how hard you fought against it or how much you tried to convince yourself otherwise; its all for him.
You hated him for being right. You hated him for humiliating you like that.
But fuck, you imagined him even in your drunken state- okay, especially in your drunken state.
It was like the image of his perfect face, of his brilliant eyes, his soft lips, of his deft hands- was even more vivid than before. Even fresher when you were drunk.
You could practically feel the soft caress and comforting warmth of his body. The single tingle that traveled through your spine with the brush of his lips and the pads of his fingers on your cheek, jaw, lips, neck, collarbone….
The only difference was with the alcohol was that you weren’t forced to feel guilty for that. Instead, you embraced it as you throw your head back and close your eyes, running your hands through your hair.
You run your hands up your body– nice and slow and make sure to pause at the good points.
You imagine him in your head the more your eyes are closed. He’s looking at you through heavy-lidded dark blue eyes, his lips are parted and stuttering breaths are leaving them loudly.
Seeing him this turned on is making heat bloom form the center of your chest and rapidly spread throughout the rest of your skin.
He swallows thickly, running his hands through his hair like he always does when he frustrated or angry as you approach him, hips swinging to the beat of the song.
You halt before him never stopping the slow, purposefully slow shake of your hips as your knees brushing as your gazes locked in that intense way that made your insides liquid.
He inhales sharply as you lean down slowly, eyes never leaving his. Your hair sweeps onto your face as you softly brush your lips over his, teasing him.
“You’re beautiful,” he breathes as if he can’t hold back. He chases after your lips desperately.
You smirk, placing a finger on his soft lips and leaning away from him. “No.”
He looks at you with bewilderment, opening his mouth to ask out loud.
Your smirk widens and you lick your lip. “No touching, big boy.”
He growls in frustration, desperately pawing at you with his eyes because his hands couldn’t.
You could already see it so clearly in your head: a brisk “fuck you” would leave his lips at his desperation and you’d just grin back evilly.
“And wouldn’t you just love to?”
You stepped back, never breaking eye contact with him as you slowly hiked the shirt up your legs.
His eyes followed you moved as they grew darker and hungrier. His hands fisted into the couch below him as he tried to restrain himself.
You would then change it up a bit, spinning around so your back was to him and raising your hands over your head as you shook your ass.
That’s right, you think. Feel what I feel.
You could hear his breathing getting heavier and heavier and the fabric clutched so tightly beneath his touch tighten as you-
Suddenly the song changes to a fast-paced rap song and you pause, snapping out of your drunken daydream.
You remember you’re still in your living room. Alone. You’re flushed, chest rising and falling and you look around you one more time just in case somebody saw that.
The coast is clear. Good.
You can’t help but laugh at your stupidity and the weird intensity of your dirty daydreaming. It was as if he was really there.
SIghing, you take another long swig from the bottle and drag your feet over to the radio. You start flipping through the channels.
“No. No. No. Oh hell no,” you hiss with disgust, flipping through more channels.
You can’t help but freeze when a familiar tune plays.
You try to change it as you feel tears instantly prickle the backs of your eyes but you just don’t.
It’s Love Is a Losing Game by Amy Winehouse, the song you played on repeat after leaving this town. After ending things with him.
Almost like your knees can’t bear your weight any longer, you slowly slide down the side of the couch, tears silently spilling out of your eyes- all hot and wet as they slide down your cheeks.
All the emotions you’d worked so hard on suppressing come pouring out of you as the heart ache you’ve fought off for the longest time rages through you, pillaging your momentary happinesses.
You can’t help but start singing along melancholically.
For you I was the flame
Love is a losing game
Five story fire as you came
Love is losing game
You take another swig from the bottle and then another, your singing growing more cracked and rough as the tears came faster and harder.
You hated this. You hated him and how he made you feel and how you had no control over it.
Ironically, one of the last times you’d talked to him you’d practically begged him to ruin you. And can you blame him when he did?
Because that’s what you were. Ruined. Absolutely destroyed.
One I wished, I never played
Oh, what a mess we made
And now the final frame
Love is a losing game
You slowly rise to your feet, clumsily swaying to the slow music as more tears trickle off your chin and onto your collarbone.
He destroyed you and somehow he has the audacity to tell you that you were meant to end up together? By who? Fate?
You barely manage a dry laugh at the thought. Fate was bullshit.
You used to think you meeting him was fate. That everything that happened was meant to happen. You’re starting to think that maybe you were the ones who brought this upon yourselves.
Self-professed profound
Till the chips were down
Know you’re a gambling man
Love is a losing hand
You take another swig making sure to savor this one as a heartbroken, cracked sob ripped itself from your throat.
He was right. That’s really what got you, you think. That no matter how much you tried to deny it, deep down you knew that what he said was right. You couldn’t deny what was there.
And who exactly did this make you? A horrible person, surely.
It could go nowhere. The fact that you were no longer his student or in highschool didn’t make it any less wrong.
You still had Daniel and he had Cassidy and it just would never work out.
Taking a long gulp, you twirl to the music and sobbed even louder and harder.
Though I battled blind
Love is a fate resigned
Memories mar my mind
Love is a fate resigned
You could still remember everything about him. Every expression he made and what it meant. Every wall he put up and what they meant.
You’d memorized every curve of his face and body. Cherished the high of his kisses and touch. Tried to remeber with exactitude who you were when you were with him.
Happy. You were happy when you were with him. And even when he was breaking your heart, a part of you, deep inside wanted nothing more than to be with him.
You had loved him so entirely and purely that when he didn’t say it back, it obliterated you and now- well now you were fucked. Royally fucked.
Your foggy, drunk brain shakes as you look down at your feet and the world spins. You sway.
The music is loud so you can’t hear the door swing open and close shut.
I hear loud music and sobbing from inside the house and frown, slowly approaching the door. I open it with my key, slowly walking in and closing it behind me.
I pause by the doorway when I see a heart-breaking scene unfold before me.
Y/n is huddled by the couch, sobbing harshly, a half-empty bottle of liquor in her hand. As the heart wrenchingly melancholic song comes to an end, all I can hear is her sobs.
My heart clenches painfully inside me at how broken and fragile she looks. Her skin is blotchy and red and her eyes are too. She’s shaking like a leaf and my entire body feels repulsed. Had I cussed this?
I don’t hesitate, don’t ask questions, don’t even think about it before I surge forward, falling to my knees before her, and wordlessly take the bottle from her grip.
She looks at me with those big eyes of her, except now they’re watery filled and with undeniable pain. We don’t say anything as I quickly wrap her up in my arms, cradling her against my chest.
She completely disintegrates beneath my touch, weeping with what I know is true heartbreak and fisting my shirt beneath her hands.
I held her tighter to me, rubbing her back soothingly and running my fingers through her hair.
“Sh, sh,” I whisper to her as if she’s a baby. “I’ve got you, sweetheart. I always will.”
Slowly, she lifts her head to look at me. “No you won’t,” is all she croaks.
My heart aches at her words and I don’t know what to say.
She continues. “You say we were an inevitable disaster but we can’t be. We’ll destroy everyone around us. We won’t just be a disaster, we’ll be a catastrophe.”
She sniffles, looking away and tightening her grip on my shirt.
I sigh, knowing that what she’s saying is true but at the same time-
“I don’t care,” I murmur.
Her head swivels towards me instantly. “What?”
I straighten my back out and look her in the eye. “I said I don’t care if we’re a catastrophe. I don’t care if we end with everything on our path,” I lick my lips, voice a mere desperate breath. “I just want to be with you.”
She laughs, but it’s heartbreakingly dry and sad.
“We can’t,” she mumbles into my chest. “You know that.”
I gently grip her face in my hands, making her look at me. “I know a lot of things, sweetheart. And one of them is that I’m willing to leave-“
She cuts me off abruptly. “No. Don’t finish that sentence. We’re walking a very fine line and once you cross it-“ her eyes water again. “There’s no going back.”
She reaches for the bottle again, but I cease her wrist firmly in my hand.
“I hate seeing you like this,” is all I whisper roughly.
She looks at me. “Then stop making feel like shit.”
I open my mouth to respond, but she doesn’t stop there, her pretty face growing red with rage.
“S-stop making me feel like I don’t have a choice. Like I can’t e-escape this. You. All of it,” she breathes- looking at me desperately.
I sigh, not wanting to make her more upset because damn- I could see she felt utterly trap. Without an escape. But equally not wanting to to cave in because I knew what this was. He’ll, I’d known the moment I saw her.
She couldn’t run from the truth any longer. Especially when it was staring her straight in the face.
“But you love me,” I blurt without really thinking. Because right now, I didn’t want to think. I was tired of thinking. I just wanted to feel.
She stiffens in my grasp then roughly peels herself away from me. She briskly pushes herself off the ground, clumsily stumbling away from me. She sways from side to side, nearly tripping over her own feet as she glares at me with the goddamn most burning hatred I’ve ever seen.
“I hate you,” she growls and it’s like a stab directly to my chest. “I hate you so fucking much.”
I get off the ground slowly approaching her- like I would a frightened animal ready to spook and run.
I look her in the eyes, instantly recognizing something that wasn’t hatred. Not at all.
She didn’t hate me. What she hated was knowing that she could never hate me. Because it terrified her.
It’s hard to love someone so much you know no matter what they do to you, you’ll always come back to them.
But I didn’t want to hurt her. I never have and I never will.
“Stop, Y/n. Just please-“
“No!” She rages. “You don’t understand how fucking hard it is for me now to wake up in the morning knowing that you’re going to be there but that-“
“I do!” I yell back, startling her. I swallow, hard. “I do. I understand how fucking heartbreaking it is to have you so goddamn close but not be able to hold you. I-I get how hard it is to get through nights alone or even with someone else after you’ve been in my arms for even just one. Because that was enough, sweetheart!” I keep all my emotions bottled up anymore and they come pouring out of me like blood from a freshly opened wound.
“Enough to do what exactly?” She spits, voice cracking with hurt and pain. “Don’t you get it, Chris?! It doesn’t matter that I love you because I don’t want to. I don’t want to wake up every morning with this fucking pain inside of me. Like this-this festering fucking sore that just won’t go the fuck away. I want to move on. I-I want to love-“ she doesn’t finish her sentence before a sob breaks through her, racking her body excessively.
“I fucking hate you for making me feel like this,” she whispers roughly. “You’re cruel.”
I wanted to scream more, honestly. I wanted to let her know that she ripped me from the inside out when she left me. I wanted to yell at her that she was the cruel one for leaving but when she nearly tips to the side, I instinctively reach out to catch her, my arms wrapping around her waist securely insread.
I press her addictive warmth close to my body, wanting nothing more than to have her like this forever. To feel her intoxicating smell waft into my nose, to feel her soft skin beneath my fingertips.
Because I was selfish. Goddamn I was a selfish man for wanting this forever. For wanting her even though I had a girlfriend and she had a boyfriend and my aunt was marrying her dad.
It didn’t matter to me and I knew that was the most fucked up thing about all this. That I’d truly, deeply, genuinely, earnestly be willing to leave everything behind just to have this with her. Because I now not only wanted her. I needed her.
I needed her in every way possible and watching her leave two years ago absolutely destroyed me but it didn’t matter because she was here now and she was beautiful and perfect and I just wanted to be with her. To feel her against me without also feeling guilt. Without feeling like it could end at any moment.
She sniffles, her pain-filled eyes tugging at my heart strings. “Let me go.”
I don’t hesitate, don’t think. I didnt need to so I just respond. “No.”
And right there and then, she falls apart in front of me for the second time, wiggling furiously to get away from my touch and screeching loudly. “Let me go! Let me go. Let me go!”
But I don’t. I refuse to let her go when she’s falling to pieces right before my eyes. I would hold her together through the night if I had to.
So she starts to pound on my chest, wiggling even more and crying even harder.
It broke my heart to see her like this.
“Let me go!” She hit harder but I took each and every hit without a flinch, my arms tightening around her as I cradled her to me.
“Let me go! Let me fucking go!” She keeps muttering this over and over as she fights and wiggles against me— like she truly wanted to get away from this hold I had on her.
I wish I could say the same. I wish I could say I wanted to stop being so in fucking love with her, but I didn’t.
I didn’t want to stop loving her because being loved by her was the closest I’d ever been to heaven and when you get a taste of that- true happiness from the depths of your soul- you do anything to hold onto it. I wasn’t letting her go.
Not as long as I knew that she wanted it too. Not as long as I could read her beautiful soul like a book.
Soon her energy dwindles down and her punches became weaker and weaker as she went slightly limp in my arms. “Just…let me go please. I can’t take it.”
I squeeze her wordlessly. Though no words needed to be exahcanged as she cried quietly on me, fisting my shirt in her hands like her life depended on it again.
And I didn’t let go until she had regained complete composure, slowly guiding her over to the couch and sitting her down as I do the same next to her.
She doesn’t look up at me this time, her voice tired. “Why do you do this to me?”
I look down at her sincerely. “I never wanted to hurt you, sweetheart.”
She smiles meekly. “I know.”
My fingers rise to her face, softly brushing across her skin as I gently wipe away her leftover tears.
“Don’t cry, please. I hate it,” I subconsciously whisper against her, lost in the pools of her magnificent eyes.
She instinctively leans into my touch, shivering beneath my fingersas her eyes slowly flutter shut.
She manages a tiny smile and I see the hint of a blush coating her cheeks. “Don’t touch me like that if you’re not gonna do anything about it,” she croaks weakly.
My lips part as my gaze locks onto her luscious lips. Her mouth was so fucking soft and I missed feeling its sweet innocent cherry taste against mine more than I imagined.
I thought I could fight this. I thought I could forget her and move on with Cassidy. That even if she came crashing back into my life like the explosion she was, I’d be able to survive the hit.
But she was magnetic. She was my opposite force and we’d always find eachother- even if we were at different ends of the world. We’d eventually meet and the magnetic force would be too strong to ignore until we’d inevitably meet, clicking together like it’s always been meant— and that same force would implode, destroying everything around us.
Only we could stop it from happening. But what if we didn’t? What if we couldn’t?
I look up at her just to find her already looking at my own lips. Slowly her gaze moves up to mine as a common understanding passes through us. I shiver.
“We can’t,” she whispers, already leaning forward. Her warm breath smelled of alcohol but something about the breathlessness with which she said it made me want it even fucking more not less.
“Jesus,” I groan, my hands deftly trailing up the soft skin of her arms, fingertips tracing over every goosebump that rises in the wake of my touch.
Our lips are centimeters apart now and the conflict within me instantly dissolves once I feel her warmth radiating against me and the scent of vanilla and booze waft into my nose. My chest soars when I realize what this means.
There was no choice to be made. No what’s or if’s. There was just Y/n and there was just me. There was just us.
She looks me in the eye through those long lashes and bites her lip. Fuck, does she know what that does to me?
“Kiss me,” she breathes against me.
“Gladly,” I growl lowly before delving my hands into her silky soft hair and crushing my lips against her with urgency.
I release a tiny sigh of relief against her soft lips, hands gripping her jaw firmly in between my hands as I practically devour her mouth.
I’ve wanted this for so long and having her like this- so close to me and so obtainable- made me want to memorize what it felt like. What made her so addictive. So hard to leave behind.
She tasted of booze and cherry and I never thought a taste could be so intoxicating as I kissed her with even more fervor than before. For the longest time I’d struggled to define what it was that she made me feel in words.
She intoxicated me. She consumed me until there was nothing left but her and I, I and her. Until we were one. And I didn’t want it any other way.
She moans into me slightly, her own small hands hesitantly rising to my face, fingernails lightly scraping against my beard.
I loved her touch. And at that moment I realized that, I would die just as I would live for it. Because the deepest parts of me ached for the feeling of her fingers on my skin. For the taste of her lips to be fresh on mine. For the satisfaction of running my fingers through her soft hair.
Soft. Everything about her edges and self was soft and innocent and I wanted nothing more than to fucking ruin that.
I hated myself for feeling something so fucked up but I couldn’t help it. I wanted to fucking ruin her but I didn’t just want her to to want it; I wanted her to need it. Hell, I wanted her to beg me to fuck her so hard I’d ruin her for every other man and god, even herself for her.
Her soft tongue softly slips itself into my mouth and it feels like I suddenly can’t breathe. I had forgotten how much I missed the feel of her.
Our kiss gradually slowled down as we began savoring eachother. My hands slowly hiked downwards, brushing over her ass and caressing her soft thighs as I break away slightly to look at her.
She pants softly against me, beautiful eyes heavily hooded with lust.
I speak as I gently tug the hair tie form her hair, loving the way her hair spill out and onto us.
She’s gorgoeus and I fucking want all of her. Right now.
“C’mere, baby,” I whisper roughly against her, my hands griping her waist and easily lifting her then settling her on my lap.
I instantly resume my kissing her, lips enveloping hers with slow sensuality as I take my time to breathe her essence in.
Our bodies mold like they’re meant to and the weight of her on top of me- god. It’s enough to drive me crazy.
“Fuck, sweetheart. I’m already hard,” I growl, low, looking at her.
She places her small hands on my shoulders, looking down at me with slick eyes. Her hair flips over her shoulders as she straddles me, gaze defiant and full of sexy fire.
She smirks seductively, slowly moving her hips against me. A stuttered breath barely leaves my lips at the sensation of her moving her wet warmth against me. I could feel it even with the layers of clothes separating us and I suddenly had a burning need to rip off her lace panties and tug her out of that band tee.
Her gaze pinned mines down heavily, letting me know who was really in control.
She keeps the rhythm of her hips steady and slow, lips parting in pleasure.
The sight of her straddling and riding me like this- my dick gets impossibly harder.
Cassidy had done this plenty of times to me. Our fucking was good, I guess, but nothing like this.
This was so intense. Full of passion and god- I loved her on top of me. It was like my insides were on fire– wanting nothing more than to be with her all the time.
Rationality was not something I worried about right now. Not when I got to touch her like this.
Her nails dig into my shoulders as she throws her head back, small moans and whimpers leaving her lips as she takes pleasure from me. I’d never witnessed anything more torturously hot.
I try moving my own hips against hers, unable to hold back the urge to want to be closer to her but she instantly stops me, leaning forward without breaking her movements.
“Ah, ah, ah.” She wiggles a finger in front of me, smirking. “I’m in control, Mr. Evans. If you pull something like that again I’ll be forced to stop.”
I swallow audibly at her hoarse words, digging my fingers into her hips as I press her down onto the point I want friction the most in.
Fuckkkkk if that isn’t the sexiest thing anyone’s ever said to me.
I can’t help it when I breathe it out, holding back a groan of pleasure. “You’re incredible.”
She looks at me, a strand of hair falling onto her face. “Do you want to fuck me?”
I inhale sharply, unable to hold back anymore when I take back control, flipping her onto the couch as I move on top of her.
I grip her wrists in my hands, pinning them above her head as I lean down and whisper with all the conviction of years of dreaming of her everytime I jerked off or fucked anyone else.
She looks at me in the eyes then freezes.
Good God. I already saw the hesitation in her eyes.
Fuck. I’d completely disregarded the fact hay she was drunk.
Asshole, I reprimanded myself.
“Stop,” she whispers hoarsely, gently pushing me off her.
I sigh, silently plopping next to her on the couch. We sit in silence for the next few minutes, contemplating what we’d just done, our heavy breathing the only thing that could be heard throughout the room.
I had no doubt we would’ve done something we would’ve regretted later on if she hadn’t stopped us. Not lovemaking, because I would never make love to her on a couch. But something else, certainly.
I break the silence hesitantly knowing exactly what she was thinking. “We didn’t do anything to be ashamed of yet, sweetheart. Don’t overthink it.”
I know she’s lying but I still smile, gazing at her attentively.
She sighs, looking down at her hands. “I’m sorry for blowing up on you like that.”
“Is it?” She asks, looking at me in the eyes.
I freeze because I have no idea what to respond. When another full minute passes without me saying anything, she sighs, shaking her head with a dry chuckle.
“We can’t keep doing this,” she mumbles. “We just keep hurting eachother and hoping for something that’ll never happen. It’s a stupid and vicious cycle. We’ve gotta let go.”
I inhale sharply at this, thinking long and hard for a few seconds about this before answering her.
“I meant what I said,” I say firmly. “I don’t want to let go. I want to be with you.”
She laughs cynically at me, a sound that digs deeper into me than I thought. “I’ve only been back for a few days and you already know this?”
I shrug. “When you know, you know. And I’ve known for a long time sweetheart. I’m just so fucking tired of acting like this isn’t how we feel.”
She shakes her head. “Speak for yourself. I’m not doing this to Daniel or Cassidy. They don’t deserve it.”
I suddenly grow angry. She was hurting me by denying what we both knew. By denying herself happiness.
I suddenly get up, face red. “What the fuck, Y/n?”
She shrugs, not looking at me.
I grow even more angry, fisting my hands and clenching. “You know what? Screw this.”
She laughs, finally looking at me with sarcasm. “Whatever.”
I growl, running my finger roughly through my hair over and over. “You make me absolutely crazy, you know that?”
She rises on her feet suddenly, looking up at me. “Act like a fucking adult, Chris. We both know what we just did was wrong.”
I can help but smirk cynically right back at her, wanting to hurt her like she was hurting me. “Didn’t feel fucking wrong though, did it? Because if I remember correctly, you were just riding me like a goddamn crazed sex addict.”
I don’t realize it until it’s happened and my head snaps to the side, my cheek stinging like a motherfucker.
I slowly turn to look at her, my jaw clenched and my eyes blazing. Her hand is red and she’s trembling with rage. We’re both panting loudly but otherwise, the room is so silent you could hear a pin drop.
I want to do something. Preferably put her over my knee and spank the feisty right out of her, but I just smirk through my emotions, slowly stepping away and towards the door as she watches me with wide eyes and flushed cheeks.
I wipe a thumb over my lip, smirk instilled. “I don’t know about you sweetheart, but that just made my desire to fuck you a hundred times stronger.”
I can’t help but widen my smirk when I see her shiver inevitably at my words. I know she liked being talked dirty to and fortunately, that was my forte.
And then I walk out, cheek still tingling but my chest puffed with pride and my smirk wide.
Guysss what in the actual fuck just happened, omfg. Lmao.
Ugh, they’re so extreme now, it’s insaneeeee. My man Chris is like “I never want to hurt her” but then goes and calls her a sex-crazed addict. I did this on purpose, btw. If you have any questions about this or the path in which I’m taking this story and its characters (although it will become apparent enough in future chapters) please send me an ask.
