Chris Evans Imagines

The Bartender - c.e

The bar was usually busy in the evenings and Thursday was no exception. Y/n didn't hate her job, it just got a little repetitive. Pouring drink after drink behind the same wooden counter, with the same drunken men trying to pass the time by drowning their sorrows with burden or scotch.

Sometimes there was the occasional fight which would stir the usually tedious day, although she'd always end up crouched to the sticky floor with a phone in hand as y/n would call the police if things escalated. She'd been working part time as a bartender since graduating college for the extra cash but it ended up being her main income as modelling wasn't exactly going to plan.

Only three more hours of the shift left, y/n tore her eyes from the vintage clock across the room and was brought back to reality as someone dropped themselves onto one of the bar stools in front of her. He had unkempt blonde hair and a leather biker jacket, y/n couldn't help but ignore the feeling of unease that overcame her as he slid a grimy credit card across the counter top with a smirk.

She'd come across plenty of middle-age men with prying eyes and sleazy smiles before, the kind she tried her very best to stay away from. It was harder to do than it sounded, they nearly always insisted on taking her home or at least getting her number. The man in front of her would undoubtedly be the same.

"A couple pints, pretty girl" the man slurred his words but seemed composed enough to give y/n a wink, she gave an uncomfortable nod and poured him a pint of beer. He mumbled something in return as she made the second drink and swiped his card before laying it back on the countertop.

With a heavy sigh, it dawned on her that it would be a slow three hours. It was one of the rare days when she was working behind the bar alone, she had one other co-worker but they'd taken the week off to her dismay. Shifts were always easier with someone else. It was a relatively small bar which was located in her hometown which she was strangely thankful for. It meant that even in the packed evenings, she'd still manage to make everyone's orders in time.

One of the overhanging lights flickered as it got knocked by a group of rowdy men. The tables were almost full and the barstool seats began filling up as more drink orders came rolling in. Y/n had managed them smoothly, skidding glasses across to each customer and even performing fancy tricks as she mixed together different beverages.

People formed their own groups and conversations while others drank alone, she began to wonder why they pondered with alcohol in hand and the sound of football playing methodically in the background.

The man from before on one of the barstools made a loud grunting sound to get her attention and y/n silently pleaded he only wanted one final drink before leaving. She instinctively fiddled with the cheap ring she wore on her engagement finger, y/n had learned the best way to avoid getting hit on while working in a bar was to pretend she was engaged. It was sadly one of the only tactics that worked against drunken men who got a little too friendly, somehow they respected y/n having a fake fiancé more than her saying no.

"Hey baby, could I buy you a round on me" he purred, wetting his lips in the process. Y/n tried her best to calm the nerves before slowly shaking her head, tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear, making the fake engagement ring visible for him to witness. All that was left to do was wish that he was one of the men who had better things to do than hit on women in a bar.

"Sorry, I don't drink on the clock" she stated, it was true of course, y/n couldn't afford to get fired.

"That's a shame, I hope you can make an exception for me, darling" He furrowed his brows and propped his elbows on the counter to lean closer to her behind the bar. Y/n hesitated, her breathing faltered as the man continued speaking, "I don't want to be drink'in alone"