Just a Hair Stylist - Chris Evans story \\✔️

Chapter one

"And cut! Alright everybody, let's reset. Where's [y/n]?" The director looked around over his

shoulder as you wedged yourself forward. "Hey, good. His hair, [y/n]. Let's go more mussed up.

He's been fighting, it's hot. Let's try a little more 'sweaty, hard day'."

You nodded, glancing around for your subject. Raising on your toes and craning your neck, you

spot him. There was Chris Evans, under the shade of a pop up canopy, gesturing an idea across the

set in front of him to one of the stunt coordinators with a bottle of water in one hand and pair of

sunglasses in the other. You made your way around the front of the cameras toward your star,

pulling a spray bottle off your belt of tricks as you moved. You stood by politely, giving him a

moment to finish his thoughts with the stunt guy before you'd interrupt. He turned his head to smile

at you as he spoke, seeing you stop at the edge of the shade. You held up the bottle in your hand

and smiled a silent apology for bothering him as he finished.

"Hey, [y/n]," he said. "Messed up again?"

"No," you told him, stepping forward and reaching up to move aside part of his hair. "Just a quick

change."

You spritzed his hair a couple of times, roughing it up with your hands to move the water around.

Adding a touch of gel to your fingers, you pieced his hair a few different ways before eyeing your

work over. Not quite pleased, you went in again with the water and sorted his hair around a bit

more before giving a satisfied nod.

"Alright. Back to one!" the director ordered. "Slate, please."

You followed Chris back into the sun to the red tape marking his start in front of the cameras. The

director came around from his monitors to analyze the new look. He patted the back of your

shoulder and told you it was what he was looking for. You gave a quick smile in appreciation and

started to clear off the set.

"Shit," Chris said behind you. "[y/n]! Here."

You turned around and he tossed his sunglasses to you first and then his water, not paying attention

to the spray bottle you still held. You juggled the items that flew into your hands, fumbling to hold

them and clutching them to your chest with a relieved sigh when you didn't drop anything. He

laughed at his mistake and your temporarily panicked face before squaring himself up into the

scene and clearing his throat to get rid of his smile.

His water pinched under your arm, you hung his sunglasses on the neck of your t-shirt for lack of a

better place to hold them. The scene filmed another three takes. You handed him his water as he

passed by to see the last take on the monitor with the director. They traded a couple of notes before

Chris came back again, waiting for you to touch up his hair.

"He's starting to dry out," the director said your way.

"Not a problem," you told him, taking up the spray bottle again.