A/N: Hello lovelies! I know this is really short but I still think it’s kinda cute! As always hit me with your comments and feedback. You can find my masterlist here and you can ask for a tag or request something here.
You and Chris had just gotten home from the Infinity War premiere. Chris stayed behind in the kitchen to get Dodger set up for the night while you went upstairs to get yourself changed into something more comfortable for the rest of the evening you planned to spend alone with Chris. You kicked off your black heels and looked at your dress once again in the mirror. It wasn’t anything to fancy, a skater style dress with a black skirt that hit just above your knee and a white lace sleeveless top. You removed the headband you had been wearing and pulled your hair out of its updo, letting it tumble naturally down your back.
A/N: Clearly I’ve been in a Chris Evans mood lately. I hope the person who requested this is okay with Chris stuff! The prompt was When I’m with you, nothing hurts anymore from here. You can send in requests or ask to be on my taglist hereand you can check out my masterlist here. Thanks for reading y’all! GIF is mine.
You ran into the busy hospital, your mind running wild with all the things that could be wrong. You stormed up to a nurse’s station and waited for one of them to acknowledge you.
An older woman with graying hair and navy blue scrubs looked at you.
“Can I help you?”
“Hi, yes. I’m looking for Chris Evans-”
The nurse quickly cut you off.
“Listen, I’ve had about six women claim to know him since they saw him in the ER. Just leave.”
A/N: Disclaimer, this is a work of fiction. I do not own, possess, or have any links to Chris Evans, nor do I profit off of this work. Any claims otherwise are grossly misleading. This work is not to be posted anywhere else without my explicit permission.
If you would like to be added to the tag list, reply here or send me an ask. I’d be happy to add you! Happy reading!
Word Count: ~1,500
A Chance Encounter
“Mom, how do I look?”
“I think you look alright. Maybe wear different underwear. I can see your panty lines.”
“Who’s going to be looking at my ass? It’s an interview!” I say with a slight shake of my head.
“Exactly! Panty lines look unkempt. Wear a thong. You’ll thank me later,” as she holds out a nice, lacy black pair she pulled from my drawer. A pair whose matching bra I already had on under my cream blouse and blazer. Maybe a lacy bra is overkill for an interview but it’s not like anyone will see it and it makes me feel confident. That’s always good in the interview right?!
I grab the thong from my mom’s hand and stuff it in my purse. “OK, mom. I have to go. I’ll change on the train. I have to go! I’ll see you after. Bye.” I say as I kiss her on the cheek.
I run out of my house and get in my car. If traffic is light, I can still make my train into the city. I realize on the drive to the station, that I forgot to put my flats in my purse.
At least I have this thong. Thanks, mom. My ass crack will be about as comfortable as my feet by the time this is over.
A/N: Hello guys, gals and non-binary pals! This is my entry for @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan ‘s 90’s playlist challenge! My song was “…Baby One More Time” and honestly if you haven’t listened to it in the past two days do yourself a favor and go give it a listen. It’s as incredible as you remember. Thanks to Star for including me in this challenge! As always hit me with your comments and concerns and perhaps consider checking out my masterlist here. (GIF was made by me)
“Y/N… don’t you think you’re overreacting?”
“I’m overreacting?! You’re the monster who won’t listen to me!”
“Babe, could this perhaps be the pregnancy hormones talking?”
“No! I’m serious about this Chris! How are we gonna raise a baby together if we disagree about the fundamentals of keeping this household together?” you yelled, tears forming in your eyes.
Summary: You’re travelling by bus one night and send your friend a Snapchat during your journey. She calls you in a fangirl panic, convinced that Chris Evans is sitting several rows behind you. Word Count: 2,015 Warnings: Language, slight fangirling, talk of domestic violence, no details given Author’s Note: Requested by @woodworthti666 Could you write a Chris x Reader where they’re on a bus at night? While the rest of the people are sleeping, reader takes a Snapchat photo and sends it to your best friend, and the friend calls you, freaking out because you got Chris in the photo. Up until then, you had no idea Chris was even on the bus. For the purpose of this fic, Chris Evans is 100% single. Y/BF/N = Your Best Friend’s Name. Picture found on Google Images.
My work is not to be posted on any other sites (AO3, Wattpad, etc.) without my express written permission. Reblogs are fine.
Even though it was the middle of the night, and everyone else on the bus was sleeping, you were wide awake. You could never sleep while travelling; whether you were flying, taking the train, or a passenger in a car or bus, and you absolutely hated it.
You finished the Words with Friends requests and checked the time. 2:15 am. There were still a handful of hours until your destination, and all you wanted to do was take a shower and crawl into bed.
In an effort to keep yourself occupied, you opened Snapchat and took a selfie, the dim lights in the bus doing nothing but casting shadows across your face. Before sending it to your best friend, you captioned it with, Why can’t I sleep like everyone else?
Before you could even start scrolling through your Facebook feed, your phone was ringing.
You rolled your eyes as you answered, your voice low to keep from waking anyone up. “You could have just snapped back.”
“Oh. My. God,” she screeched, making you wince and pull away from the phone.
“Keep it down,” you hissed. Several people around you made noises in their sleep as they shifted. “There are people sleeping.”
She gave a heaving sigh. “Girl, did you see who is on the bus with you?”
“There are lots of people on the bus with me, Y/BF/N. Why would I care about one of them?” Yeah, you were being a little bitchy, but God, were you so very tired.
“Y/N, listen to me closely,” she rasped, her hand around her mouth so it echoed in your ear. “Chris Evans is on your bus.”
“Shut up,” you scoffed louder than you originally intended. The woman across the aisle glared at you after her eyes popped open. You apologized quietly before turning back to your friend. “He is not.”
“I’m tellin’ you, he is,” she insisted, her patience wearing thin. “Here, I’ll send you a screenshot of your snap.”
The picture came through about fifteen seconds later, but you still weren’t seeing it, or him, in this case.
“You’re losing it, girl,” you chastised, rolling your eyes. “Go back to sleep.”
“No, no, no,” she argued once again. “I’m telling you, it’s hi -”
“Goodnight, Y/BF/N,” you grumbled, disconnecting the phone without another word. You fully expected her to call you back, so when she didn’t, you decided to take a closer look at the screenshot of your snap.
It was too dark to be able to confidently say that it was, or was not, Chris Evans that you had accidentally captured in your selfie. Whoever it was had a dark hat on their head, the bill curved, pulled down, obscuring the top part of his face. His stubble-kissed cheeks and jaw looked vaguely familiar, but then again, he could just be a normal guy that had been blessed with amazing bone structure.
Groaning in annoyance at yourself and your friend, you clicked out of the text message, and started playing a card game. You tried to pay attention to the hand of rummy, but you couldn’t. You kept thinking about it, the possibility that Chris Evans was on the bus, your bus. But, if it was actually Chris, why was he taking a bus in the first place? Hundreds of questions swirled about your brain, confusing you, coming up with out-of-this-world scenarios.
“Excuse me,” someone said, their voice gruff and irritated. “Do you mind if I sit here?” It was the guy that your friend was convinced was Chris Evans.
“Uh, yeah, sure.” You grabbed your bag out of the seat and held it on your lap, watching the stranger closely.
He gave you a kind smile. “Thank you. I wouldn’t have asked, but the guy next to me has sleep apnea or something, and it was driving me crazy.”
It was impossible not to smile back. “Man, that would suck.”
“How’d you get lucky enough to sit alone?” he asked, his eyes sparkling in the passing lights.
Could it actually be him?
Shaking your head, you brought your voice down to a whisper when you said, “It’s a secret. I could tell you, but then -”
“You’d have to kill me?” he finished, his voice low and gritty. There was a tingle that slithered down the back of your neck and wrapped around the full length of your spine before settling low in your stomach. “What if I promise not to tell anyone?”
The breath you were holding rushed out in the form of one word. “Okay.”
“That was easy,” he chuckled. It was really hard for you not to shiver as his laugh washed over you like velvet.
Swallowing heavily, you crooked your finger at him. Your heart did a double-beat when he leaned in, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth. “I told them I was waiting for someone.”
The stranger gasped playfully. “You mean, you lied?”
“Hey, it got me an extra seat,” you argued with a smirk.
“Which I am very grateful for.” He stuck his hand out in the small space between you. “I’m Chris.”
Well, he’s got the same first name, and it does sound like him.
You introduced yourself and shook his hand. “Pleased to meet you.”
“We can thank the guy in back,” he joked, hooking his thumb over his shoulder. “You’re much better company.”
Blushing under the compliment, you waved away his compliment. “Hey, can I, uh, can I ask you something?”
“Sure,” he huffed as he turned at an angle in his seat. “What’s up?”
You pulled out your phone and pulled up the screenshot your friend had sent you. “I had sent my friend a Snapchat selfie earlier, and I accidentally got you in it.”
Chris took a look at it and shrugged his shoulders. “Not the best lighting for a photo shoot.”
“You’re not wrong,” you agreed before continuing. “My friend called back and said that, see… she uh, she’s convinced that you’re this famous actor.”
He gave this uneasy chuckle and squeezed the back of his neck. “Do you uh, do you believe her?”
“I didn’t, at first,” you started, turning off the phone and slipping it back into your bag.
“And now?” Chris raised the brim of his hat, allowing you to see the rest of his face. His right leg was bouncing and he was gnawing on his bottom lip.
“Shit, it is you,” you gasped, your hand coming up to your mouth.
When Chris’ lips pulled into a tight line, you swallowed down your inner fangirl. “You don’t want anyone to know, I get it. I won’t say anything,” you promised.
“Thank you,” he sighed.
“Why are you on a bus?” you blurted out.
Chris chuckled as you blushed. “It’s a secret.”
“Really,” you deadpanned. “That’s what you’re giving me? That’s so unoriginal.”
His chuckle deepened and grew louder until he was laughing loudly, his head tipped hack, a hand over his left pec, disturbing several of the passengers. All they did was glower at him and roll their eyes before turning their attention to the other side as they fell back to sleep.
After calming down, he looked at you with twinkling and amused eyes. “I mean it,” he insisted. “I’m secretly doing research for an upcoming film. Rather than fly back and forth, I thought I’d go for a long-ass bus ride. It helps me get into the character’s head.”
“Makes sense, I guess,” you hummed. You were actively trying not to stare, it wasn’t like you had a crush on the man, or anything. He was just so damned gorgeous.
“What about you?” Chris asked. “Why are you on this long-ass bus ride?”
“Nothing as fancy as you,” you couldn’t help but chuckle. “I’m actually headed home.”
That seemed to interest him, though, you weren’t sure why. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah, just finished my lease,” you answered vaguely, shrugging a shoulder as if it were no big deal.
Chris cleared his throat at the slightly awkward silence that settled between you. “Do you, uh, want to talk about it? You don’t have to, I just, you look like you need someone to talk to.”
The last thing you wanted to do was unload everything onto someone you didn’t know, let alone a celebrity that you had a crush on. But, your brain had another idea. You were verbal vomiting all over Christopher Evans, and he didn’t seem to mind one little bit.
It was your boyfriend. Nope, he was now your ex-boyfriend. When the two of you had been friends, you got along amazingly, everything was great. Then, you started dating, and he got real possessive and violent, called you vile names, broke you into a million pieces. Sure, it took you a lot longer to get out of the relationship than your friends and family wanted but, you did get out, and you were safe, that was the bottom line.
Chris’ hand had found yours during some point, and he was squeezing it gently. When you were done, you wiped away the tears, sniffling as you watched his thumb sweeping back and forth against the inside of your wrist.
“I am so sorry that you went through that,” he lamented.
“It’s not your fault,” you dismissed his apology quickly.
Chris huffed out a breath through his nose. “You didn’t deserve to be treated that way.”
You shrugged your shoulders but said nothing, you just sat there with Chris holding your hand, his silent support doing more for you than the hours you spent with a therapist, or the many phone calls with your parents and friends. You hardly knew the man but, you he was bringing you a sense of peace that nothing and no one else had.
When the brakes started to squeal, you stole a glance at your watch. “Wow, that time flew.”
Chris gave your hand a final squeeze before reaching up to situate his hat. “Give me your phone.”
“Why would I do that?” you asked with your eyes narrowed, your phone already in your hand.
With a smirk, he said, “So I can put my number in it. If that’s okay with you, of course.”
I’m dreaming, that’s what this is. It’s all a dream.
“Uh, sure, yeah,” you conceded, handing over your phone.
Chris made quick work of adding his contact information, then sent himself a text. “Since I’ve never been here and this is your hometown, would you like to be my tour guide sometime?”
Your heart was pounding in your chest. “Yeah, I mean, I would love that,” you stammered, watching as he added your name to his contacts.
“Great,” he muttered as he stood.
After everyone had gotten off the bus and was stretching their aching and weary limbs, you sidled up to Chris and grabbed his attention after he hung up.
“I uh, I was just… this is… see…” you were stumbling over your tongue and couldn’t stop blushing.
Chris watched you play with your phone. “A proper selfie?”
“God, yes,” you said, the words coming out in a rush.
With one arm draped over your shoulder, Chris moved the hat up on his head, took your phone and opened the camera. You turned into his side and casually placed your hand on his stomach, putting on what you hoped was a relaxed smile. The picture was taken and your phone was back in your hands a moment later.
“Send it to me?” Chris requested, tugging the bill of the hat lower in an effort to keep people from recognizing him.
Gnawing on your bottom lip, you sent him the picture, and couldn’t keep from grinning when his phone beeped. You didn’t know why you were sure he gave you a phony number. Before you knew what was happening, Chris pressed a friendly kiss to your cheek and was bidding you goodbye.
“My ride’s here. I’ll call you,” he promised.
And then, he was gone, leaving you standing there, your phone clutched in your hands, and a grin on your face.
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