Cait You Have Done It Again!

This chapter @time-for-a-lullaby has all the feelings! You hit it out of the park! Or technically made a goal with this chapter!!!

the boston brute series: pt. 7 (maleficent)

The Boston Brute Series: Pt. 7 - Maleficent

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

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

Warnings:  Crude language. Chris is an asshole. Somewhat toxic relationship/situation. Lots of Angst, neglect from the previous part is mentioned in this one, too. (18+, please. Minors will be blocked.) Mentions of violence. I did write something about the reader not eating very well due to stress. Please do not read this series if you are not a fan of asshole Chris or fics with a lot of angst. As always, let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: I finished this like 2 minutes ago lmao please expect grammatical errors also, shout out to @blizzspeaks​ and @tis-thedamn-season​ for letting me bounce ideas off of you constantly hahaha i love and appreciate you more than you know!

W/C: 7.7k

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

likes, reblogs, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated! ❤

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Monday:

It’s been 2 weeks. 

2 weeks since you walked out of Chris’s hotel room, his soft plea echoed through your mind constantly. For 14 days, you’ve heard Chris in your head telling you not to give up on him. You weren’t sleeping well, your appetite was nonexistent. You were taking this harder than your breakup with Dean. 

Thankfully, 2 weeks is also the recommended recovery time for concussions. So while you were traveling with the team for the majority of the 14 days, Chris was home and recovering and you didn’t have to face him every single day. 

Unfortunately, Connor was traveling with the team after being cleared to play. So every day, you were asked with a sad smile how you were feeling and what he could do to help. While you did appreciate it on some level, it was also starting to drive you crazy. 

Which is exactly what got you to where you were now. 

You’d gotten home late last night and promised yourself that the second you landed in Boston, you wouldn’t let Chris bring you down anymore. 

So here you were at 6:30 on a Monday morning, standing in front of your full-length mirror in workout clothes, getting ready to go on a run. It was the first week in October, so you paired your workout leggings with a Bruins dri-fit quarter zip to keep warm, then threw on a pair of tennis shoes, grabbed your phone and AirPods, and headed downstairs. 

Running has always been your favorite way to clear your head. After your break up with Dean, you ran 3 days a week for almost a year. Rain, sleet, snow, heat, or freezing cold. Concentrating on not passing out while you gasp for breath did a pretty good job at distracting you from your thoughts of asshole men who didn’t deserve you. 

You trotted down the stairs, rolling your eyes when you saw Connor standing in the kitchen shirtless. “Jesus, do you live here now?” 

He smirked, standing up from his bent-over position in the fridge and drinking OJ straight out of the container. 

“Gah! Connor!” You walked over and snatched the carton from him. “You’re disgusting.” 

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

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

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

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

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

W/C: 6.6k

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

likes, reblogs, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated! ❤

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time-for-a-lullaby masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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Also when you do a signing I’ll be one of the first in like to get it 🤩🥰🤩

Wait, hold on you’ve written like 99k words for this fic. Bestie that’s a whole book!!! Thank you so much for sharing TBB with us. Petition for you to publish it in book form with an alternate ending… or, OR! You could not post the ending (last one or two parts) and then just have us wait for the book to come out. 👀

I would LOVE to turn this into a book, honestly. But i think people would come for my head if i waited until it was a book to post the ending 😂

Tequila Sunrise 1

Warnings: age gap, power dynamics, creep behaviour, other dark elements. As usual, be mindful of your content consumption.

ft. Cole Turner, older!reader

I also beg of you to leave me some tuppence in the form of a comment and/or reblog. You are cherished!

Enjoy, my loverlies.

You need this. For all the stress of your life, not to mention the added chaos of planning the getaway, you the week to be decent. No, not just decent. It has to be absolutely amazing. You haven’t spent so much time, money, and energy getting this all together for it to just be acceptable. 

You make yourself stop gritting your teeth, a bad habit your dentist and doctor both reproach you for. There’s also that pesky blood pressure issue and the stress headaches. That’s why you’re desperate for this. It’s not just a girls’ weekend, though none of you are really ‘girls’ anymore, it’s a therapeutic detachment from reality.  

For the next seven days, you are not a manager, you are not an ex-wife, or a middle child. You are on vacation. From all of it, from all of them. 

You’re the first there. That’s typical. Mandy rarely shows up within the first hour of a dinner, Jamila always runs in breathless saying she was somewhere important, Soo cancels more often than she shows, and Elaine is usual right on the dot. 

You made the booking, you have all the confirmations; you’ve checked, doubled-checked, and triple-checked and your early arrival is the very reason. You follow the automated voice of the GPS down the country road, your destination just ahead of you. Jamila found the airBnB online. It had rave reviews and you weren’t into a resort with all the young toned bodies or a beach house with sand blowing in from the beach. 

Maybe it’s age, maybe you’ve always been boring, but the farmhouse getaway sounds about your speed. You trust that you’ve brought enough wine and snacks to see you through a relaxing but rustic reprieve. You steer up to the wooden gate in the farmhouse style, the sort of vintage piece you see in films, and stop. 

You lean forward and tap your phone, leaving it on the dashmount as you flip through the app. The entry instructions... ‘honk’. What? 

You sit back and lay your palm gently on the horn. You don’t think you’ve ever actually used it. You put your weight into it and the blare makes you yipe and retract your arm. You sit there and idle just outside the gate. 

Should you get out and do it yourself? The latch looks easy enough. 

Before you can muster your courage to let yourself in, a voice calls and a man catches your sight with a waving hand. He runs down, his flannel shirt billowing open around a ribbed tank top. A tuft of sandy hair sticks out awkwardly at his crown and his jaw is dusted with heavy stubble. He’s about a decade younger, at least, and shows it. 

“Hey,” he calls out as you roll down your window. 

He unlatches the gate from the inside and lifts it as he pulls it open. He smiles as he steps back and waves you through. You slowly roll forward and stop just beside him. 

“Am I in the right place? I have a booking for a farmstead?” You ask. 

“That’s me,” he grins, his blue eyes sparkling as he bends to look you in the face, “you’re just going to wanna pull all the way down,” he points and looks after his hand, “you’ll be staying in the guest house. It down the other end of the property. Secluded so you don’t need to worry about me.” 

“Oh,” you try not to show your concern. That wasn’t in the listing. It’s supposed to be a girls’ weekend, not a supervised outing. 

“Your family following you up?” 

“Pardon?” You keep your foot on the brake. 

“Yeah, I saw the booking for five. You must have quite the clan.” 

“Uh, no, my friends,” you explain. 

“Oh, well I hope you ladies have a good time. I’ll just grab my truck and follow you down. Straight shot, just keep going down the road. You can’t miss it. I’ll be right behind you to show you around.” 

“Mm, okay,” you agree dully. “Thanks.” 

“Cole,” he offers his name and hand, and says your name in return, “that’s you, right?” 

“Yep,” you answer. Definitely the right place. 

“I’m just around in case there’s any issues. Maintenance or whatever. Swear, you’ll hardly even know I’m here. I’ll be around the main house,” he looks behind him at the large farmhouse, “guest house is way better. Fully updated. Oh and I just redid the bathrooms.” 

“Oh, sounds great, the pictures looked wonderful,” you give a fragile smile, “so, uh, straight ahead?” 

“You got it,” he slaps the top of the car and keeps his hand there. His chest hair peeks out from under the tank as his neck tendons clench, “take it slow. I can’t lose any more chickens.” 

“Oh my,” you grimace. 

“Uh, yeah,” he laughs, “sorry, kinda grim. Well,” he pushes himself straight. His tank is almost transparent with sweat as it clings to his stomach, “I’m sure you’re dying to get settled.” 

“Yeah,” you agree and turn your sights ahead of you. 

He steps back and you ease onto the gas. As you clear him, he’s running off across the grass. He has a lot of energy. It’s the perfect contrast to your complete lack of. 

You keep your eyes straight ahead and follow the worn and weathered tire tracks. Your car jostles with the lumpy ground and you stay alert for any feathery creatures wandering around. Maybe it isn’t the ranch house paradise you thought but it’s still palatial. You won’t care much once you have some wine in you. 

Just a month away!

Fixer Upper - Mechanic!Curtis AU Masterlist

A/N: Here is the masterlist for the Mechanic!Curtis AU! This won’t be a full series, but a collection of interlinking oneshots, drabbles etc as and when I think of them!

They won’t be posted in chronological order but the Masterlist will be!

If there’s a scene you want to see let me know by sending me an ask!

Warnings will be tagged in each part!

Saving Dougie

Change The Oil

IS THAT AN AXE?!

Open Mic Night

Grow A Pair

F*ck Him

Drinks Maybe?

The First Date

Glowing Review

Titles

Come Closer

The Worst Kind Of People

The Grinch

Fiddling Fingers

Glasses Are Sexy

Newest Crewmate

The End Of The Road

A Long Day

Headcanons/Extras

What does Curtis drive?

Happy Valentine’s Sweetheart

Freaking amazing Cait! Always surprising what you write! Love it!

the boston brute series: surprise epilogue extension

The Boston Brute Series: Surprise Epilogue Extension

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

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

Warnings: Language, fluff, happy tears

W/C: 1.3k

A/N: this was inspired by a little tweet i saw of a mom refusing to punish her son because he stood up for his female teammate. thought it was fitting so i had to write it! THANK YOU FOR 9K!!! Here’s your gift hahaha

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

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site. Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤

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time-for-a-lullaby masterlist

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“We have to talk to him,” you crossed your arms, leaning against the wall in the hallway outside your 17-year-olds room. It was late and you really didn’t want to have to lecture him at 11 pm on a school night, but it needed to be done. 

Chris shrugged, “It’s just a part of the game, princess. You know that.” 

You rolled your eyes, “Yeah, I do. But it’s the 5th game in a row. He plays for his high school, not the NHL. If he keeps this up, he’s gonna get kicked out of the league.” 

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Cait you did it again! Another masterpiece! *chefs kiss* you now deserve a break until the next idea comes to you.

out of left field series: epilogue - pt. 2

Out Of Left Field Series: Epilogue - Pt. 2

Pairing: MLB!Chris Evans x Best Friend!Reader (female character)

Summary: After 29 years of friendship with Chris, there’s nothing you wouldn’t do for him. When he finds himself amid a PR nightmare at the same time your ex-boyfriend starts lurking around every corner, you enter into a mutually beneficial, strictly PR relationship to save his career and keep your ex away. 

Warnings: Pregnancy, lots of fucking fluff. underage and of age alcohol consumption. throwing up. 

W/C: 1.9k

A/N: I was pronouncing Samara’s nickname as “Saw-mee” not, Sammy. But do whatever you want hahaha

SURPRISE! The second epilogue! I know i said it would wait until Friday, but i need you guys to cry with me

Out of Left Field Series Masterlist

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. All players and scenarios are made up completely. This story does not reflect things that happen in the MLB, with its players, or with Chris in real life. Additionally, the reader’s family gets introduced in this series and are all OCs made by me. If you don’t like that, please don’t read this series.

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS. Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback are ALWAYS appreciated ❤

I no longer have a tag list! Please head over to @time-for-a-library and turn on notifications!

“Are you sure I look okay?”

You blinked rapidly, willing away the tears that clouded your vision as you stared at your best friend’s beautiful daughter, “You look amazing, Sami,” you cleared your throat and looked away, dabbing your tissue under your eye. 

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I’d imagine this is what the dress looks like! And Cait!! 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰 love it

the boston brute series: pt. 10 (the haunted hollywood gala)

The Boston Brute Series: Pt. 10 - The Haunted Hollywood Gala

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

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

Warnings:  Crude language. Chris is an asshole. A toxic ex-boyfriend is involved in this part. Reader being insecure about looks. SMUT (voyeurism, fingering, unprotected, kind of rough sex (wrap it before you tap it, babes), lots of dirty talk. 18+, please. Minors will be blocked.) This part actually has a lot of fluff, too! Please do not read this series if you are not a fan of asshole Chris or fics with a lot of angst. As always, let me know if I missed anything!

W/C: 12.8k (LIKE DID I READ THAT CORRECTLY JESUS CHRIST)

A/N: GAH. THIS PART. So ready to see what you guys think of it!!! 

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

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site. Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤

series masterlist

time-for-a-lullaby masterlist

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

“He asked you to do what?!” Chris asked in a hushed but harsh tone. 

You glanced around the hallway to make sure no one was around while you fumbled with the hotel lock. “Shh. Wait until we get inside.” 

“Y/N. What does getting inside have to do with anything? Me going into your room is more incriminating than asking you a question in the hallway.” Chris deadpanned, looking down at you before his expression softened at your flustered demeanor. “Princess.” He wrapped his hands around yours, holding them for a second before sliding the keycard from your grip and swiping it into the reader. The light flashed green and Chris pushed the handle down to open the door, ushering you inside. 

You turned to look at him. “Don’t be mad, please.” 

After you finally got to the hotel, you cornered Chris and pulled him to your room to talk to him about the gala and auction that Pearson had approached you about. You didn’t think he would be mad, but you could also understand if he was. 

His girlfriend was going to be in a dress and paraded around on a stage and someone else was going to pay money to take her out. Of course, he would be upset. 

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I love this fluff!!!!

HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS | Ch 1

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

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

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Home For the Holidays

Next Chapter

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Pennsylvania - you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s Y/N,” you shyly replied.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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