A C T O R S || OS 02

119. Chris Evans | Adorable

By : your-highnessmarvel

Hi friend. I read one of your Chris Evans one shots the other day and it really made me smile, so I was hoping you'd be able to help out again. I wanted to request a Chris and y/n where the reader fell at work and fractured her arm (I spent some time last night in prompt care and I'm getting a cast on it today). Anything with Chris makes me smile, especially when it involves cuddles and Dodger. Lmk if this isn't enough info for a request:)

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Working as stunt coordinator for an Avengers movie was much like babysitting a gang of toddlers. Mostly because you had to do the stunts yourself most of the time to show the stunt doubles and the actors how to do it properly.

And the only person who actually did it right was Chris. Evans. Not Hemsworth, as everyone would think. Because of his history with action movies, Chris was a marvel to have on set. Always listened and nodded along to your instructions, which sometimes made your cheeks become hot and tinged with red. He had a way of looking at you that seemed as if he was digging.

One day, you were on the ladder, trying to show Scarlet and her double how to do a back flip. However, you'd miscalculated everything and landed on your side, crushing your arm under your weight and effectively breaking it.

The first one to run to your side was Chris.

"Oh my, Y/N!" His voice was hoarse as he flipped you on your back. Pain was scattering along every nerve in your arm, making you groan and hold back yelps. Tears had stained your cheeks and you were shameless in your pain.

"Fuck it hurts!" you yelped, cradling your forearm against your chest.

Chris' eyes were wide and the cerulean blue full of concern. "We have to get you to a hospital," he said severely.

Your eyes shot open. "No, I hate hospitals!" you protested, but Chris was bringing you to your feet and wrapping his arm around your shoulders.

"I'll drive," he stated, fishing his keys from his pockets. You were still holding your broken arm, unable to look at it, afraid you'd see the bones all at an awkward angle.

"Chris, I hate hospitals," you whined, carried along by his massive strength through set and all the way to the parking lot.

"And I'd hate to never see you on set again because you never properly fixed that broken arm," he almost growled back.

He pushed you the passenger seat of his car, which was a new model pickup truck that smelled like leather and man once inside. Chris was eager and scared, almost, as he drove through the streets of Atlanta to get you to the hospital. Once there, he was the first one inside, screaming for a doctor.

"We need help!"

"Jesus, Chris, I'm not dying," you groaned behind him.

Chris stayed with you until the nurse came to get you for triage. He said funny things to you and gave you some plot spoils and told you about his lovely dog that he'd brought with him to Georgia. When he saw how nervous you were to go into the doctor's room, he gave you a quick peck on the cheek and a thumbs up.

"You're boyfriend is very nice to have brought you here," the doctor said once you walked in.

"He's not my-"

"Your arm is not a lost cause!" the doctor bellowed over you. "We will have to reset the bone and then put a cast over it for a decent amount of time. Be aware that you'll have to stop any work for at least a month."

Reset the bone? Oh my God.

After a pain resetting of said bone, you were slightly high off pain medication with a fresh cast and a droopy smile when you finally left the doctor's room. You waddled back to the waiting area and found Chris with a fury brown dog.

Chris got to his feet in a hurry and brought you a wheelchair, which you dropped into willingly.

The brown fury dog came to your side, hurriedly sniffing you. "Hey you," you mumbled.

Chris laughed. "I went to get Dodger while you were in with the doc," he said. "I thought he'd bring you some comfort."

Your heart swelled. Dodger licked you hand and made low, whining noises until you started scratching him behind the ears. "Good boy, right, you're a good boy," you giggled, the effects of the drugs making you the happy-go-lucky type.

Chris rubbed your shoulders and came to kneel beside you. "Are you alright, Y/N?" he asked.

"They gave me medication and a cast!" you quipped, showing your new acquired white cast. "You should sign it."

"So you can auction it off for a million dollars?" he joked. "Absolutely." He fished through his jacket slowly, looking for a pen.

"I would auction off your underwear after a date for a million dollars," you clarified. "Or a piece of your hair. Maybe your beard. Ooh, I would totally auction off a live abs licking session."

Chris let his head fall with a corner smirk. Then he chuckled, bringing his eyes back to yours, which were a bit woozy from the drugs.

"They should let you get onto that kind of medication more often, Y/N," he chortled, "you're actually funny."

"Hey," you whined, feigning hurt, as you lightly tapped his arm. "Just sign my damn cast and drive me home."

With another chuckled, Chris doodled something onto your arm, signed it, and wheeled you out of the foul smelling hospital. You don't remember the car ride besides hanging with Dodger in the back seat and the smell of Chris' cologne.

At your apartment, Chris helped you up the stairs with a light touch on your back and Dodger by your side.

"Can Dodger stay?" you asked, stumbling into your apartment. Chris pouted, leaning against the doorway.

"He gets an invite, but I don't?" he whined.

"I don't invite men into my apartment, Evans," you laughed, falling onto the couch.

"I just want to make sure you're going to be okay," he mumbled.

You looked at him sideways. "Fine," you sighed, cuddling up to Dodger, "you can stay."

You fell asleep right away. Somewhere during the night, Chris carried you from the couch to your bed and tucked you in. You vaguely remember the feel of his chest against your cheek before you found the plushness of your bed.

The next morning, you were painfully reminded of your broken arm as you emerged from sleep. With a groan, you examined your arm and your cast.

You gasped at Chris' writing, just now realizing what he had written.

We should go on that date very soon. Love, Chris and Dodger.