Chris Evans Imagines

Fucking Perfect

Author's Note: I came across this song and immediately thought this would be a good fanfiction for Chris Evans. Also, I wanted to switch it up. I'm constantly seeing Chris comfort the reader when the reader is feeling down. This time around, I wanted the reader to cheer up Chris. Enjoy and let know what you think.

Warnings: Curse Words and fluff!

Y/N unlocks her front door and quickly closes it behind her. After locking it, she takes off her jacket and puts it on the coat rack. She untied her boots and put them on the shoe rack by the door. She turned around and noticed the entire house was dark. She furrowed her eyebrows as she also noticed Dodger didn't come running towards her the second she opened the door.

"I thought they would be home," she spoke to herself, knowing Chris didn't mention he and Dodger would be out. "Honey?" She called out as she walked towards the living room. As she got closer to the living room, she saw a soft glow.

"In here," Chris mumbled more to himself than to Y/N.

It wasn't that he didn't get up to hug and kiss her, and ask her about her day. It was the fact that he was sitting in the dark house and his eyes never once leaving the tv. Not to mention, he was holed up under a blanket it on the couch with Dodger by his feet, who looks just as sad as his owner.

"Honey," Y/N kneeled down in front of Chris. She massaged his scalp with the tip of her fingers, enjoying the buzzcut he gave himself a week ago. "What happened? What's wrong?"

Chris let out a huge, deep frustrated sigh. He slowly sat up, giving her space to sit down next to him. Still refusing to leave his side, Dodger made himself comfortable and rested his head on Chris' lap.

She sat with her legs crossed and facing him, giving him her full attention. Chris wrapped the blanket around himself, including the top of his head. Although it was clear something was bothering him, Y/N couldn't help the small smile forming on her lips as he looked like such a big kid.

"Honey," she soothed as she got closer to him.

Chris leaned his head on her shoulder, Y/N immediately taking the opportunity to wrap her arm around his broad shoulders.

"You know how I had that audition today?" He asked.

"Yes, the one you were really excited about."

Chris nodded. "I didn't get the part."

"I'm sorry, honey," she said sincerely.

"They said they didn't like my buzz cut because their character is supposed to have long shoulder length hair-"

"Did you tell them you can grow it out?"

"Yes, but they need someone right away. Then, they said I was too short-"

"Too short?! You're 6 feet tall! How much taller do they need you to be?" She asked in disbelief.

Chris ignored her question and continued, "they kept pointing out how wrong I was for the role and I didn't like it. It made me more insecure about myself than I already am." He let out another sigh of defeat. "It just sucks because this was the first real project I've been really excited and passionate about since Cap."

"Hey, you have nothing to be insecure about," she gently moved his chin towards her to make him look at her, but he didn't.

"You have to say that. You're my girlfriend," he mumbled.

"Honey, I can go on and on about why you are absolutely perfect. I can list what makes you the beautiful human being that you are. And, I would be happy to repeat how much I love you," she cupped his cheeks.

Chris' eyes welled up with tears. "Can you just leave me here so sulk while watching Disney movies?"

"No," she sat up and turned off the tv.

"Baby-"

"If I can't convince you, then I know someone who will," she grabbed her phone and connected it to their Record Player with a Bluetooth speaker they had underneath their mounted flat screen tv.

"Made a wrong turn once or twice," Pink's voice echoed through the speakers. "Dug my way out, blood and fire. Bad decisions, that's alright. Welcome to my silly life."

As Pink sang the next verse, Y/N swayed her hips to the beat as she walked to the kitchen. She grabbed a wooden spoon and made her way back to the center of the living room.

She sang along to the chorus from the top of her lungs, using the wooden spoon as her microphone, "Pretty, pretty, please, don't you ever, ever feel like you're less than fucking perfect. Pretty, pretty, please, if you ever, ever feel like you're nothing. You're fucking perfect to me."

Chris' lips started forming a smile. She knew her plan to cheer him up was slowly working. Chris got up from the sofa and extended his hand. Y/N gladly took it before Chris pulled her in for a slow dance. She pulled away from his hand and wrapped her arms tightly around his waist as Pink sang the next verse, hoping he would understand that she too is also echoing those same words to him with her loving embrace.

You're so mean, so mean when you talk, when you talk about yourself. You were wrong. Change the voices, change the voices in your head, in your head, make them like you instead.

He held her close as he slowly swayed back and forth. He buried his nose at the crook of her neck. Y/N's hand was at the small of his back, tracing small circles with the pad of her thumbs. She gently pressed soft kisses along his neck.

So complicated. Look how we all make it. Filled with so much hatred, such a tired game. It's enough. I've done all I could think of, chase down all my demons. I've seen you do the same.

Chris twirled her once before he spun her out and they both jammed out as the tempo picked up for the chorus. They danced and lip synced like no one was watching and they were having their own private concert in their living room.

Pretty, pretty, please, don't you ever, ever feel like you're less than fucking perfect. Pretty, pretty, please, if you ever, ever feel like you're nothing. You're fucking perfect to me.

Chris grabbed the wooden spoon Y/N had used towards the beginning of the song and jumped on top of the wooden coffee table and started rapping.

The whole world's scared, so I swallow the fear. The only thing I should be drinking is an ice-cold beer. So cool in lying and we try, try, try, but we try too hard. And it's a waste of my time. Done looking for the critics, 'cause they're everywhere.

Although the lyrics were pretty intense, Y/N couldn't help but laugh as Chris' hand covered the wooden spoon as if he was rapping into a real microphone. Not to mention, his dance moves were as horrible as when Chandler Bing jumped on the coffee table and did his ridiculous infamous dance moves.

They don't like my jeans - Chris wigged his butt and tried his best to twerk. - They don't get my hair - He ran his hand over his buzzed haircut.

Exchange ourselves and we do it all the time. Why do we do that, what do I do that, why do I do that?

Chris moved a little to the side, motioning Y/N to join him. She jumped up as the chorus repeated again. She laughed as they both tried their best to dance without pushing the other one off. Dodger was excited as he started barking at his parents and started circling the coffee table with this tail wagging.

Pretty, pretty, please, don't you ever, ever feel like you're less than fucking perfect. Pretty, pretty, please, if you ever, ever feel like you're nothing. You're fucking perfect to me.

Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him flush against her body. Chris accepted her warm embrace, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist. She cupped his cheek and looked deep into his beautiful blue eyes. "Please don't ever, ever feel like you're less than fucking perfect. Pretty, pretty please, if you ever, ever feel like you're nothing. You're fucking perfect to me," she said hontestly as her thumb traced his cheekboone.

"I fucking love you," Chris said as he tightened his grip around her. "I don't know what I'd do without."

"You'll never have to find out because I fucking love you too," she leaned up to her toes as she kissed him, deeply and passionately, meaning every word she said.