NHL!Chris Evans x Female Reader -
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″, r...
The Boston Brute Series: Pt. 14 - Is This Enough For You?
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. Lots and lots of angst. Crying. Mention of smut, but nothing like graphic (still 18+ only). Communication issues. Fluff. Brief mention of the reader not eating/losing appetite. 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: 7.2k
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.
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Chris: What are you wearing?
You snorted out a laugh, bringing the crumpled-up tissue in your hand up to wipe your nose. Ever since your move, Chris has the tendency to text you the wrong thing at the wrong time.
A suggestive text while you were still at work, some sarcastic remark, or a poor excuse of a joke while you were in a meeting. If you were in Boston, the texts would've come through while you were home after work, but given the 3 hour time difference, Chris was home for the night while you were still stretching and handing out ice packs to sweaty men.
Tonight it wasn't an inappropriate text for your location, per se, you were laying in bed after all. But the tearstained pillowcases and a small mountain of crumpled-up tissues on your bed didn't exactly have you in the best mood for a 'what are you wearing' text.
Your face was puffy, your nose somehow stuffed up and runny at the same time, the reality of being across the country from the only family you've ever really had was weighing heavy on your chest tonight and as soon as you got home from the game, you threw on a pair of Chris's sweats. You set a timer and gave yourself one hour to sulk, cry, and be angry at the world, and then you would suck it up, shower, and call Chris.
It'd been two weeks since you made your move to Los Angeles and started your job with the LA Kings and Chris kept promising that would get easier, but you weren't finding that to be the case.
Everyone at work was fine, you'd even been invited out for a few happy hours by the staff, but you couldn't get yourself to feel excited about things like that when you'd rather be at home. Chris was always waiting for you to finish up, his thumb hovering over your contact name while he counted down the seconds until you were off of work and on your way out to your car.
