You get an Uber to the subway station and make your way to the address you’d been sent. It’s in a part of town that you’ve never been to before and the closer you get the more rundown and abandoned it gets. You get off the train and the second that you’re above ground your phone is ringing. You’re not surprised to see that it’s Steve.
“Hello?”
“Where the hell are you?”
“They have Mikey.”
“You-you’re-oh my god Darlin’ no. Please tell me where you are. Please.” You hear something fall to the ground through the phone.
“I’m going to get him.” You tell him trying to remain calm.
“No, no please tell me where you are. They’re going to kill you.”
“You don’t know that.”
“What do you think they’ve been trying to do!” He practically yells into the phone and you swallow thickly. “Please, please tell me where you are.”
“Steve I can’t trade my life for his. I can’t do that.” You mutter, tears are slipping down your face as you lean back against a wall. You’ve got the phone pressed tightly to your ear and your other hand on your forehead covering your eyes.
“I’m not asking you to. I’m asking you to tell me where you are, I want to help. Please Darlin’.” He begs and you know that you’re going to give in to him if you keep talking. He’s moving quickly, that much you can tell.
“I’m sorry Steve.”
“Wait, wait how did you know Mikey needed saving?” You hear a car door slam and you’re not going to fool yourself and think that Steve isn’t tracking you.
“Peter texted me and told me he was missing.” You tell him, you need to go, “Steve I need to get to Mikey. I only have ten minutes left.”
“Please baby don’t do this. Please don’t. Think about your fans, that feeling you get when you perform, how much Sam cares about you. Please, please just wait until I can get there.” You don’t think he realizes that he called you baby.
“I’m so sorry.” You choke out, “I-I have to go. Tell Sammy I’m sorry and that I’m so grateful for everything he’s done for me. Tell him he’s my brother and I love him. Tell Quill I’m sorry and that he’s an asshole, it’s a joke. He’ll get it.”
“Just let me get there. You can tell them yourself, I’m only ten minutes away, please just wait.”
“I can’t. They’ll kill Mikey. Tell him this isn’t his fault, that this was my decision.”
“No. Please no.”
“I’m sorry Steve. Thank you for, for everything. You’ve really been a knight in shining armor.” You want to tell him you’re pretty sure that you’re falling in love with him. That you could’ve completely fallen for him given a little more time but you don’t want to hurt him and that feels cruel.
“I’m begging you. Please please don’t hang up.” You do.
You have to get to Mikey and you only have three minutes left. You mute your phone, turn off the vibrate then shove it into your bra. Hopefully they won’t search you. You make your way to the building that has the address on it. You take a deep breath and push the door open, it’s musty in the building and it’s dark. You’ve never been more aware of life than you are now. The way that your heart pounds in your chest, how the air fills your lungs. The brush of your hair against your skin and the echo of the your feet on the hard floor.
“I knew you were stupid but I didn’t think you were this fucking stupid.” A cold and familiar voice comes from behind you.
“Mikey!” You gasp spinning around, “You got free! Let’s go!” Relief fills you, until you register what’s in his hand and pointed directly at you. “What-what are you doing?”
“What the men I hired apparently couldn’t.” He snarls as he tightens his grip on the gun.
“What?” You breathe, the horror fills you and you take a step back away from him.
“Surprise bitch.”
“What the hell! Why?” You demand, the fear and horror gives way rapidly to pure, red hot fury.
“I’m fucking sick of being backup. Everyone talks about how fucking perfect you are and how it’s all about you and your perfect voice.”
“You tried to kill me because you were jealous?” You hiss, hardly believing that could be the case.
“Why should you be the star of the fucking show? Without me you don’t have a guitarist, I fucking fix half of the songs that you write! I’m just as fucking important as you! But all they care about is the little punk pop princess!” He spits, “the pretty little girl with the pretty little voice who is always front and center! Who always has the longest lines! She’s so perfect and special!” Mikey roars, “You don’t deserve all the attention and all the fucking fame! You’re the fucking face of Trickster, without out me we wouldn’t even have the song of the summer!”
“Are you serious right now? Mikey, I always give you credit for helping me write our songs. I always make sure that you guys answer questions when we go on shows and I fucking sing your praises! This is insane. Let’s just go home and talk this out with Quill and Sam.”
“No. I’m done sharing the spotlight with you. I’m done. I’m going to kill you, I’m going to kill you then play the survivor of the attack and they’ll never know it was me.”
“I loved you like a brother. I would’ve died for you tonight.”
“No, you will die for me tonight.” He says with a cold smile, one that doesn’t reach his eyes. The gun cocks and he points it at your heart, “thank you for your sacrifice. I’ll be sure to write you a remembrance ballad.” You want to give some snappy response but when that gun points at you suddenly it’s hard to think. Your mouth goes dry. “Close your eyes.”
“If you’re going to kill me, you’re going to look me in the eye and do it.” You’re not going to make this easy.
“Or he could drop the gun and keep his brains in his head.” Steve snarls, his gun pressed against Mikey’s head. “Just twitch wrong you fucking piece of shit. Give me an excuse. Darlin’ get your ass over here. Now.”
“Don’t you fucking move.” Mikey threatens so you kick him in the nuts.
“Fuck you Mikey.” You snap, kicking the gun away from where he dropped it. Steve handcuffs him, picks the gun up with a piece of newspaper, then practically drags Mikey to the doors. You follow the two men silently, you know Steve is pissed at you, you can almost feel the rage rolling off of him.
“Buck we clear?” He must get the all clear because he shoves Mikey out the door and into the waiting fist of Sam.
“You fucking bastard! You fucking piece of shit! How dare you! How fucking dare you!” He roars as Quill and Bucky quickly drag him away.
Steve shoves Mikey at a waiting cop muttering a quick, “Thanks Tony.” Before stalking away. You follow him silently until you’re away from the prying eyes of the press then he spins and pins you between him and the wall.
“Don’t you ever, ever scare me like that again.” He growls ignoring the surprised squeak that has come out of your mouth, “I’ve never been so scared in my goddamn life.”
“Steve-”
“No, you don’t get to talk yet.” He says, his voice low and commanding, you expect him to keep yelling at you, to really let you have it. But instead he crushes your mouth with his, one of his hands wraps around the back of your neck while the other grips your hip. It takes you half a second to respond but somehow your hands end up with two fistfuls of his shirt and when his teeth drag across your lower lip he swallows the low moan you let out.
When you break apart for air Steve keeps his forehead resting against yours.
“I swear if you ever scare me like that again, I’ll shoot you myself.” He promises softly.
“Does that mean I get to keep you around?”
“Honey, if you think you’re getting rid of me now you’ve lost your damn mind.” He says before softly kissing you again, “I mean I bought you fucking tampons. I’m not going anywhere.”
You can’t help it, you laugh, and in that instant you know that even after all this shit, you’re gonna be just fine.
You didn’t have a show until three days after the attack. It was much needed down time not only for you but for the guys too. You spend quite a bit of time just hanging out with Sam and Steve. The two men are fun and relaxed which helps keep you relaxed. You had noticed Sam was carrying a weapon, and he had another ID marking him as personal security and able to conceal and carry a gun.
The day of the show moves quickly. Steve leaves you alone in your trailer for a few hours while he and Bucky get the venue set how they want it. Updating the venue’s security staff on the procedure they want followed. When two of the employees balk they’re dismissed immediately and Steve calls in two more of his own guys, a guy he calls Happy and the other Dum Dum. Apparently they too were in the military with Steve, Sam and Bucky and when you meet the two stocky men you can’t help but like them.
“Ten minutes to showtime!” The stage manager, Okoye calls down the hall. Steve is perched at the door, leaning against the frame while you get ready. You’d gotten changed on the bus then brought your make up backstage to do, the light was better here. Your hair is done and you’re swiping on the last bit of lipstick when some movement from the doorway catches your eye. Bucky is handing Steve something dark, he mutters something into Steve’s ear then vanishes.
“Everything okay?” You ask Steve turning to face him. He stares at you for a second then gives you a curt nod.
“All good. I had Buck bring this for you.” He goes to pass over what Bucky has given him and you see it’s a bullet proof vest.
“Yea, pass. It doesn’t go with my outfit.” You tell him gesturing down at the jean shorts, combat boots and tight black tank you were wearing.
“This isn’t up for debate.” He tells you gruffly, “You wear the vest or we cancel the show.”
“Funny. You’d think that you hired me.” You tell him with a raised brow, “I’m not trying to be difficult here but you’ve put better security into place and brought in more guys. I really don’t think that it’s necessary.”
“I do.” You fold your arms over your chest and glare up at him.
“No. I will not wear that on stage. I’ll compromise with you and wear it outside the building but I’m not going to perform with that on. I won’t be able to do anything but stand there,” You argue.
“What if he got in before we put up the extra layer of security?”
“Then he’s going to have to take the shot from backstage and that’s where you and Bucky will be.” You point out, he doesn’t move just glowers down at you. If you didn’t know that he was actually a cinnamon roll you might’ve been intimidated.
“I don’t like it.”
“I know.” He stares at you for a moment longer then sighs heavily.
“Alright, you wear it everywhere except the stage. That includes the meet and greet afterwards.”
“Fine,” You agree.
“Two minutes!” Okoye calls again and you move to make your way out of the dressing room.
“Ah, ah, ah,” Steve says blocking your way, “Everywhere but the stage.” He reminds you offering over the vest. You let out a loud groan but take it from him anyway. It’s heavier than you were expecting and fits you like a glove. Once it’s strapped on Steve lets you go past him then follows you down the hall where you meet Peter and Mikey who tell you how much they just love your new vest. Teasing you about how you’ll start a new fashion trend with the ballistic vest. You flip them off then they head onto the stage. The second they’re in the light the roar of the crowd intensifies. You and Sam do your secret handshake then he too heads out to another deafening roar.
“Oh, you’re gonna want these.” You tell Steve digging the two pairs of ear plugs you’d grabbed for him and Bucky. “It tends to get loud back here.” You take the vest off once Peter starts on the drums, just tapping the base the fans quiet and you take a deep breath.
“Hey,” Steve says and you turn to look at him, “break a leg.” You shoot him a grin then make your way on stage facing him until you can’t see into the darkness anymore. Then it’s go time.
This is one of the bigger venues you’ve done, nothing huge but there are 10,000 seats and it did almost sell out. Something that had completely floored you.
The concert goes off without a hitch, the fans sing along loudly enough for you to hear them and it nearly brings tears to your eyes.
You cool off before tugging one of Sam’s big sweatshirts on over your bullet proof vest then head for the meet and greet.
The meet and greet is longer than normal. People express their outrage at you being targeted and their hope that he’s found soon.
They’re all very sweet and it honestly you’re touched by their level of care. You take one last photo and a hug then she leaves. “Ready?” You ask Steve and he nods taking his place just behind you. You can see him out of the corner of your right eye and it’s honestly so comforting. You and Steve make your way out the back of the venue and toward the buses. You’ll be traveling tonight and you’re actually pretty excited to get out of New York. And you love sleeping in a moving bus.
You’re less than a fifty yards away from the bus when you feel Steve shift, not physically but it’s almost like he senses something is off and his attention to that literally changes the energy around you.
“Go faster.” He says, his voice this deep, quiet command. It’s a voice you’ve never heard before, and it’s one you don’t argue with. The shot rings out when you’re less than ten feet from the door of your bus. “Run!” Steve cries, he didn’t need to because you were already sprinting to the safety of the bus. You yank the door open and tumble up the stairs Steve close on your heels. His body is covering yours on the floor, your torso on the flat ground of the bus and your legs still hanging over the stairs. He’d slammed the door shut so hard that the bus had shaken. “Back of the bus,” he whispers, “back of the bus.” The lock slides as you wiggle your way out from under him and start crawling for the back of the bus. You hear him moving behind you but don’t look, focusing on the safety of your room.
You’re suddenly more than a little grateful that he’d made you keep all the blinds drawn since day one.
You’re sitting on the floor in the front corner of your room, trying not to shake when Steve’s crouched from comes back.
“Darlin’?” He asks before he sees you, when he does he makes his way over to you and cups your face in his hands. “You okay? You’re not hurt?”
“I’m okay,” You whisper your hands go to his waist as he pulls you toward him. Your right hand finds something wet and sticky and when you look at it you’re horrified to see the crimson stain on your hand. “Oh my god Steve you’re bleeding!”
It takes you forever to get to sleep. You toss and turn, punch your pillow down, then fluff it back up again. The sleep you get is crap, you stare up at the ceiling, the nightmare keeps coming back.
The flash of the gun. The splintering of your guitar. The pressure against you. The bullet must’ve hit just right to have missed your body.
You wake with a small shriek but it’s enough to draw Steve Rogers into your small bedroom, gun drawn and shirtless. His eyes search the room first then land on your gasping form, the blankets held close to your body in tightly clenched hands.
Steve places the gun gently on the bedside table and slowly places one knee on the bed, his hands gently take your biceps. They slide down your arms and gently open your hands.
“Hey,” He says lowly, “Hey you’re okay. It was a dream.”
“But it wasn’t a dream.” You mutter, “it was real.” You stare at a piece of fluff that’s stuck to the comforter and try to get your heart to slow down.
“You’re safe,” He soothes, “You’re safe with me, you’re safe here.”
“I’m sorry if I scared you,” You tell him, finally meeting his blue-green eyes.
“Hey, don’t be darlin.” He moves away and you immediately want him to come back.
“Steve?” He looks down at you, “Will, will you stay with me? I don’t want to be alone.”
“Sure.” He agrees softly, thankfully understanding. You slide over on the bed then scoot up and lean against the wall at the top of the bed. “You wanna talk about it?” He asks as he eases himself down onto the bed, he puts the blanket over his legs and relaxes back next to you.
“Nope.”
“You want me to talk?”
“If you don’t mind.” You say sheepishly, it’s comforting that he’s able to talk you out of your spiral. You’ve got to assume you’re not the first person that he’s had to do this for.
“What would you like to hear about?”
“Why does Bucky owe Sam a favor?” You ask looking over at him, your head still resting on the wall.
“Sam saved his life.” That’s not what you were expecting. You can’t believe that Sam hadn’t told you about this. “We were driving down a side street and an IED went off on Buck’s side of the car. Flipped the car and took Buck’s arm almost clean off. Sam dragged Bucky out then came back to help me and the other guys. He was given a Bronze Star for what he did.”
“Shit.” You mutter, Sam hadn’t told you any of this, it wasn’t like you hadn’t asked about his time overseas, he’d just never wanted to talk about it.
“Yea. A friend of mine from college designed him a robotic arm that functions exactly like a normal one. It’s incredible.”
“I was going to ask. I mean I didn’t see his arms but in his jacket he didn’t look like he had a prosthetic.”
“You’ll have to check it out. You know who Tony Stark is?”
“The tech billionaire? Yea.”
“He designed it.” You’re impressed, you’re surprised that Steve doesn’t work protection for Stark.
“And you’re okay?” You ask softly, you can’t imagine that he walked away without any trauma from a roadside bomb.
“Yea, was in a coma for almost three months but otherwise was fine.”
“Sam doesn’t talk about his time in the military. I know he has nightmares, I’ve heard them and had to wake him before. I know he lost someone named Riley but that’s the most I ever get out of him.” You tell Steve sadly, “I don’t want to push him but he’s my best friend and I can’t help but worry.”
“He’s pretty okay. Much better than some of the other guys, I think working in music has helped.” You’re quiet for a few minutes before you sigh then ask,
“What made you want to go into private security? It can’t be a relaxing job. I’d think after being in the military you’d want something less stressful.”
“I like making people feel safe.” His honest answer warms your heart, “do you like being a rock star?” You chuckle softly at the title.
“I don’t think I’m a rock star. But yea, I do like creating music, I like the creative process of it. The other part that I really enjoy is the fans, the way they respond to the music, the things they create and how something I’ve created can provoke feelings in other people. It’s really cool.” You answer him honestly, “If you weren’t in body guarding? Personal protection? Personal security? In this line of work what would you do?”
“I think I’d have liked being a cop.”
“Another protector job.”
“Yea,” he grins over at you then sighs softly, “I just feel like that’s what I was meant to be.” You stifle a yawn and Steve gives you another little smile. “Why don’t we put on a movie or tv show?” He asks.
“That sounds nice, you can pick.” You offer, passing him the remote. Steve turns on the tv and after maneuvering to Netflix he chooses a baking competition. A sweet, no pun intended, surprise in your opinion. You start to drift as you watch the Great British Baking Show.
“If you need to sleep, sleep.” Steve says gently the third time your head falls to his arm.
“I’m fine,” you lie, your words slurring with sleep.
“Uh huh.” Steve doesn’t sound like he believes you, “why don’t you lie down darlin?”
“Will you stay?”
“As long as you need me to.” He promises as you snuggle down into your bed then let your eyes drift closed.
“Steve?”
“Mm?”
“Don’t fart okay?” You mumble and he lets out a loud laugh, you can’t help the smile that spreads across your face. You peek up at him and see that his head is back and he’s shaking his head at the ceiling.
“Promise I won’t,” He says giving you a warm smile, “Sleep darlin.”
You spend two hours meeting with your fans. They’re wonderful, expressing concern about your near death experience. You try to ease their fears, telling them that everything was fine. That you weren’t worried. That you knew they were going to catch the guy.
All lies.
Steve and Bucky stay close to you the whole time. One of them will occasionally move through the crowd, searching for the man you’d described.
This crowd is smaller than usual, something you’re actually grateful for, it means that you’re done with the meet and greet in record time.
“Sam,” you whisper as the two of you head back to the buses.
“Hmm?” He hums not looking at you.
“What are we doing about your friends after we leave New York?”
“They’ll stay with us.”
“Um, how are we supposed to house them?”
“They’ll stay with you and I’ll bunk with those two idiots.” Sam nods his head back at Peter and Mike while pushing the door to the back parking lot open.
“Sam?” Steve calls getting both of our attention, “Shouldn’t there be fans or something out here?”
“Not always. This one is gated off.” Peter tells him from behind him. He and Mikey slide their way through the small group of you and out the door.
“You stay between us and if anything should happen get back into the building.” Bucky says moving in front of you. Steve moves closer to you, he’s just behind you and on your right. Sam is on your left.
“They’re staying,” Sam says as the four of you make your way, rather quickly, toward the bus, “Until this guy is caught.”
“Sam,” You hiss, “we can’t afford that.” While your band is well known on the east coast you don’t have a massive fan base across the whole country, yet.
“It’s a good thing the Sarge owes me a favor then.” Sam says and Bucky lets out an annoyed huff causing Steve to chuckle softly.
“Keep moving.” He mutters, his shoulders still tense as the four of you pile onto the bus.
“Safe and sound,” you hum dropping down onto your couch.
“Not exactly.” Steve says seriously as he leans over you to pull the blinds closed. God he smells good. “Alright we need to come up with a plan here. Buck, when the police get here I want you to meet with them. Bring them here, they come to her not the other way around. Sam, do you still have your conceal and carry?”
“Only for Jersey.”
“If I add you to our employees you’ll be able to carry in all fifty states. You cool with that?” Bucky says as he drags the thick curtain that blocks you from the driver closed.
“Yep.”
“I’ll stay here,” Steve continues, “To make sure nothing happens. I want to walk through what you saw during the concert again.” He says turning toward you. “Are you okay to do that?”
“I’ll be fine.” You tell him, you’re fairly confident that you can give him an accurate description of the man that had so stood out.
“Alright. Sam, let the other two know that we’re staying. They don’t need to know the plans.”
“What? Why not?” I ask, brows furrowing.
“Because I don’t know them so I don’t trust them.” Steve says simply, when you open your mouth to protest Sam cuts you off.
“Hey,” you look over at him, “let them do their jobs.” You scowl over at him but don’t argue. You trust Sam and if Sam trusts them than fine. You won’t fight them.
Bucky and Sam leave then and you grab your guitar before dropping back onto the you place the guitar in your lap. You pluck the strings, making sure it’s in tune before playing the song that you’d been playing on stage when he shot at you.
“The first time I noticed him was about half way through the show.” You tell Steve not looking at him. “He seemed out of place. People who pay for those seats tend to be mega fans, ones that I recognize.”
“You recognize them?” He repeats sounding doubtful.
“We’re not that big yet, so yea. Most of the fans that come are still pretty diehard.” He nods so you continue, “I saw him pull the gun and point it at me and all I could do was sit there like an idiot.”
“Fear makes us do weird things.”
“He hit the guitar. I got lucky that his aim wasn’t better.” You mumble your fingers faltering on the strings of your guitar. “Honestly I think it happened really fast but it felt like hours.” Steve doesn’t say anything. He just watches you from the other side of the trailer, leaning against the wall.
“Do you have anyone who might want to hurt you?”
“No.”
“You seem pretty confident about that.”
“I can’t imagine having someone dislike me so much that they’d want me dead.” The sentence causes a wave of nausea to pass through you. A second passes and you basically throw your guitar on the couch beside you before bolting to the bathroom and losing your dinner. You rinse your mouth with mouthwash then lean your forearms on the counter of the tiny bathroom.
Someone hates you enough to actually want you dead. Your hands are clammy with sweat, and your breathing is shaky and uneven.
“Hey,” Steve’s gentle voice comes from behind you, “You okay? Do you want me to go get Sam?”
“No!” You cry whipping around, “Don’t tell Sam. He’ll cancel the rest of the tour and I don’t want him to do that. Please don’t tell Sam.”
“So this tour is more important than your life?”
“We’re finally getting some momentum.” You don’t answer his question, and Steve folds his arms over his chest. “I know this doesn’t make sense to you but we’ve worked so hard.” There’s a tap on the door and Steve’s hand flies to his gun.
“It’s Buck and the cops.” Bucky calls through the door.
“Stay.” Steve mumbles before leaving his post at the bathroom door and going back to the trailer door. You hear him talking to the police but you wait like he’s asked you to.
When Steve comes back he leads you out to the couch then sits down next to you. “They’ve just got a few questions for you.”
“Okay.”
“If you need to stop just let us know and we’ll stop.” He tells you gently, and you nod.
The two men start asking you questions. What did you see? Where was he standing? What did he look like? Did you recognize him? Is anyone mad at you? Who might want to harm you?
The questions all blend together and you’re tired. They ask you questions for nearly two hours before you need a break. You gently grasp Steve’s arm and squeeze, he thankfully understands.
“Alright. You’re just going in circles now, if you have anything useful to ask do it now or leave.”
The two detectives look at one another then stand and shake not only your hand but Steve’s.
“We’ll figure out who did this Miss Starr.” One of them tells you before they leave.
“Starr?” Steve asks looking over at you with a raised brow.
“Yea, an old manager we had thought it’d be a good idea to ‘project glamour’ and insisted on giving me a stage name. It’s more of a joke now than anything.” You say resting your head in your hands. This is exhausting.
“Thank you for telling me you’d had enough.” He says locking the door, then joining you back on the couch.
“Thanks for getting them out of here.” You say, not looking at him, “This whole day has just been exhausting.”
“Bucky’s grabbing my stuff but if you wanna crash don’t feel like you need to hang out with me.”
“You’ll be okay on the couch?”
“Yea.”
“Okay. Goodnight.”
“Night.” You close the door to your room and after changing into your shorts and T-shirt you crawl into bed and just lay there.
Thank you to everyone who participated in my challenge. You all did a wonderful job!! And I loved all the stories!!!
Avengers
Steve Rogers
Pumpkins at the Mill by @buckysforeverprincess
Daylight by @mattaretto
Home by @promarvelfangirl
Fall Foliage Tour by @captain-rogers-beard
Steve Rogers x Reader x Tony Stark
It’s the Most Wonderful Time of Year by @shitty-imagines-95
Tony Stark
Ashes to Dust by @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked
Fashion Designer by @urchintoast
Star Trek
Leonard McCoy
Get Away Weekend by @paige-in-a-story
Crafts and Hearts by @kjs-s
Jim Kirk
Welcome at Bad Habits by @haveyouseenmymind
Law and Order: SVU
Rafael Barba
The Big Sleep by @xemopeachx
RPF
Chris Evans
Disneybouding by @queen-of-the-avengers
A/N: This is for @thefanficfaerie A Picture’s Worth A Thousand Words challenge! My moodboard prompt was “The House at The End of The Street”, and this is my spin on it! This was really fun to write!
Summary: Y/n had one rule: don’t try to change the future. No matter how much she wanted to. Then, one horrifying Halloween, she begins to question her rule when her visions turn into something worse than ever before… The End. Will she change it? Can she change it?
Word Count: About 4,100
Warnings: Angst, Infinity War, and swears…
Main Masterlist
6 months…
“Tony, it’s me…” Y/n couldn’t help he slight waver in her voice, as she paced back and forth in her bedroom, listening to the old creaking of the house as she tried to gather her bearings, “I… You need to get over here. Now. It’s… Oh my god, Tony. It’s bad. It was so bad… You just… please come. Please.”
She quickly ended the call, hoping that he’d check his phone before she had to summon FRIDAY to get him.
He’d been a busy bee lately, but… she really needed her boyfriend, right now.
It was bad, this time…
Since the shit that happened with the accords, the team getting split up, Pepper finding someone new, dealing with the government, and the crazy that tended to follow Tony Stark… He’d been a little high strung. He’d barely had any time to see her as of late, even though they talked every day. It had been at least two weeks since she’d gotten the chance to touch him, and that was two weeks too long. She missed him.
She’d gone through long stretches of time throughout their lives where the only time she saw him was on the news, but things were different now. They were in an exclusive relationship, and she was no longer on the backburner of Tony Stark’s life – like when they were growing up.
They met at the park as children, and - knowing exactly who he was at four years old – she ran up to him on the playground asking him to play. He was weirded out that she knew him by name, but immediately agreed. They played for hours, until her grandma came back from the farmer’s market and brought her home.
It wasn’t until they were nearly ten years old that she saw him, again. She’d prepared – agonized – about the moment she would see him for days, worried that he was going to think that she was a creep. When they met again, though, he was intrigued. He was so dang smart that he figured it out right away, that something was wrong with her. Y/n was… definitely weird. She named him by name, as she did the first time, but… she asked him about JARVIS. Problem was, she meant the computer, and he thought she meant Edwin Jarvis.
She’d gotten the timeline wrong.
It was easy to do when you had The Sight.
God, she felt like a bad Halloween movie when she thought about it.
After the slight slip, Y/n was forced – without giving any details about the things she saw – to tell Tony the truth about her sight. She told him that she’d seen him before meeting him at the playground, and how she knew they were going to meet that day. She had even told him that she knew they were going to be great friends as adults.
Surprisingly, Tony took that news in stride, and they were great friends… until his parents died.
He didn’t speak to her for nearly a decade.
Maria and Howard’s deaths weren’t her fault, by any means, but… he knew she had the sight. That was the downfall of telling people. He was too consumed by his grief to remember that she couldn’t control what she did and didn’t see, and – even if she could – people would go mad if they really knew their future.
Sometimes she felt mad…
She had one rule: Never try to change the future.
The future was a fickle thing. The biggest question was always: can you change your future, or is it set in stone? She was unsure. Every vision she’d ever seen had come true, in her experience. It wasn’t an answer, though. Was the future’s outcome set in stone, whether or not you change your decisions? Could a decision completely change the outcome of a future? Did she only see the true outcome, or was it unchanged because she did nothing to change it?
Either way, it wasn’t her place to try and mess with the universe.
Her last vision had her second guessing her rule.
There was… god there was so much death. This would mean… this would mean the end of the world as they knew it.
In an attempt to calm her nerves, she grabbed her black cat – Luna – off the bed and brought her downstairs with her. Luna, sensing something was wrong with Y/n, meowed loudly and nuzzled her head under Y/n’s chin in comfort.
“Thank you.” She sighed to the cat, scratching her behind her ears before placing her on the couch in her highly-decorated living room. “I’m going to clean up and make some coffee.” Luna meowed in response. “Yeah, yeah, caffeine. Okay. I’ll make tea, then. Calm me down.”
Her black booties clicked against the wood floors as she made her way to the door to her greenhouse, where she grew her own herbs and flowers. Among other things. The place was supposed to be her sanctuary… until today. She paused at the doorway, closing her eyes for a moment as flashes of her latest vision got her heart racing, again.
She’d been in the greenhouse, collecting some peppers and tomatoes to make into a few jars of salsa in exchange for a couple dozen eggs from one of her neighbors. She’d had a few coffee cans full of ashes from her fireplace on her table that she’d intended to use to make lye for homemade soaps, when her produce basket bumped a can – sending the open container to the ground.
As the can hit the dirt ground, ash flew up; swirling into the cool, autumn air. The dreary sky turned dark, and she felt the familiar pressure behind her eyes that she got while a vision happened. The scenes of her greenhouse and her vision melded together, and she felt the fear and blind panic of her future self. She was in New York, watching the scene before her as ash and dust blew through the air, and – though there were the terrified screams of the other citizens – there was an eerie silence to the city. The only sound was the fluttering of the ash falling to the ground like a fresh snow.
She turned her head, and she was suddenly surrounded by crystal clear water – spanning around her like mirrored glass. The sky was a vibrant red, yellow sparkling though as if the sky was on fire, growing lighter in hue as the colors hit the horizon line – the ombre reflecting back over the endless stretch of water. She was standing underneath a stone canopy, whose floor seemed to blend seamlessly in the unmoving, reflective water.
A… man… who didn’t look like a man… was slowly gliding through the water, walking towards her.
“Daughter?”
He wasn’t looking at her, he was looking behind her.
She turned, watching as a little girl – who didn’t look human – moved to look back at the man before her. “Did you do it?”
“Yes.” The man looked down morosely, a heavy weight upon his shoulders as he thought about what he’d done.
“What did it cost?”
He looked back to the young girl, a soulless look in his eyes as he replied: “Everything…”
A gasp broke her from her trance, as the basket she’d been holding fell to the ground – its contents rolling though the ash that coated the ground, like her vision. Her lungs were on fire, as her trembling hands flew to her mouth, her legs giving out from under her as she fell to her knees in anguish. Tears were leaving hot trails down her chilled skin, and she was afraid to close her eyes – the vision burned into her memories.
Oh…god.
Immediately after that, she’d ran to her room, nearly tripping over her Halloween décor and vomiting into her toilet.
Then, she’d called Tony.
She’d seen… She’d seen it. The end of the world.
Taking a steadying breath, she moved through the doorway, into the warmth of her greenhouse. A place that had once been so comforting to her, plagued with the memories of her vision.
“There’s nothing you can do.” She whispered to herself, bending down to pick her produce off the floor and straighten up the mess in her garden. “There’s nothing you can do.”
She glanced over to her shelf, where she kept her important items. The pumpkin-headed doll that contained her grandmother’s ashes was in its usual spot, but she felt like… she felt like the damn doll was judging her.
That damn doll was always judging her.
“Right?” She was second guessing herself. She wasn’t supposed to mess with the future. She was only there to witness it, not to change it… that’s what her grandmother always told her. Trying to change the course of fate was only setting yourself up for failure and heartbreak. “But…”
“Y/n?!” She heard Tony’s panicked voice, as he burst through the front door, nearly shattering the glass window. “Sweetheart, where are you?!”
“Kitchen!” She called back, after quickly grabbing her tin for chamomile tea. “Making tea.”
His pristine appearance was comforting. His three-piece suit unwrinkled, though his face looked worn and exhausted. Without hesitation, he immediately gathered her in his arms, tucking her head under his chin and rubbing his hand up and down her spine in comfort. “Honey, what happened?”
“Vision.” She sagged in his arms, the tears she’d been furiously trying to end melting away with the comfort that his arms brought her. “It was… awful.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“You know I can’t.” She whispered, trying to breathe in as much of his smell as she could, feeling like she could finally get oxygen in her lungs. “But… I need you. I’m freaked out.”
“Okay.” He nodded, pressing a small kiss to her forehead. “You know I’m always here to talk about it, if you need to.”
She pulled back, wiping her face and resuming her task of making tea, “Want a cup?”
“I guess so.” His face scrunched up in disgust, “As long as it’s not that nasty green shit, again.”
“You had the flu, of course you thought it tasted nasty.” She snorted, getting the kettle on the stove. “So, what do you think about the house?”
He glanced around, getting up and investigating the decorations that she’d put up a week prior. He even opened the front door to inspect the fake spider webs, the pumpkins, and the little pumpkin shrine in the yard, where the well was supposed to be. “Well… it looks like… You’re really into Halloween.”
“That was the point.”
“Honey, you always look like Halloween threw up on you.” He laughed gesturing to her outfit, which was a black dress, black tights, and black, heeled booties. “You scream Halloween year-round.”
“I live for the aesthetic.” She shrugged, watching as Luna snuck up on Tony – who hated the cat. “I see the future. I may as well look the part.”
An unmanly yelp escaped his lips as Luna jumped onto the counter, next to where Tony’s hands were neatly folded as he waited for you to prepare the tea. “Fucking cat! I swear, she hates me!”
“Hey, you’re in her house, remember?” She reminded him, pouring the tea into two glasses and sliding him his own, watching the steam rise from the small cups.
He hummed in response, side-eyeing Luna before taking a sniff of the tea, “Chamomile? That vision must’ve been bad.”
“It was.” She breathed in the comforting smell, adjusting the neckline of her dress and leaning over to scratch Luna behind the ears. “I’m okay, now, though.”
Liar.
Four Months…
It was like the weather knew something was going to happen. It was December and there was no snow. There was only wet, like the sky was weeping for it’s last moments. The rotting leaves left behind a pleasant scent, but it was only a reminder of time passed.
Some of Y/n’s decorations remained, for aesthetic, but her beautiful Victorian styled home was aesthetic enough. She looked like a witch, or psychic, which didn’t bother her in the least. She enjoyed the double-take that the neighbors or tourists would do as they walked by. She enjoyed the comforting sounds of the home, and the character that came with it.
Of course, she’d made sure to immediately cleanse the house.
She wasn’t stupid.
The snow was on its way, she could smell the crispness in the air, but she was trying to hold on to time as long as she could.
It was as if the more time passed, the more her vision revealed itself.
She was walking to the mailbox with Luna, who strolled over the wet sidewalk beside her, glancing at the wet leaves like they’d inconvenienced her walk in some way.
“They’re just leaves.” Y/n muttered to herself, rolling her eyes as she sifted through the mail next to the old box. “You… You…”
She heard Luna complain loudly as she slipped into a trance, the scene around her fading into one not of her world.
There was no clues as to which planet she was currently looking at, but it was… destroyed. Completely destroyed. Ruins littered the landscape, the gravity felt different, and… the smell.
It smelled like ash.
There were sounds of commotion this time, like there was a fight happening a short distance from where she was standing.
Turning around, she saw the same creature that resembled a man from the first vision. He wasn’t as… broken… as the first time she’d seen him. This must be before.
He was… holy mother of god he was fighting with Tony.
She watched as the nano-tech in Tony’s suit morphed his arm into a giant sword, swinging it in the direction of the creature, striking to kill.
The creature barely looked phased, as he broke it off easily, like snapping a cracker, and jabbed the sword forwards…
…right into Tony’s side.
Tony’s pained, wavering grunt was loud in the silence that followed, as the creature continued forwards. Tony stumbled backwards for a few steps, pain clouding his eyes, before finally falling backwards into a sit against some of the rubble.
She could see the blood leaking from the wound, and tried desperately to move to help, but her attempts were futile…
The mail slipped from her fingers, dropping to the wet pavement as a scream tore from her lips, bringing her back to the present as the first few flakes of snow began their descent from the sky – reminding her of ash.
The sounds of her neighbors grew louder as her screams turned to sobs, the heartbreak of loss crushing her to the ground as her knees gave out – scraping against the wet pavement and tearing at her skin.
Tony wasn’t going to make it…
Two months…
There had to be something she could do.
Anything.
What she saw… she couldn’t let that happen.
The madness was beginning to set in. She’d been in the hospital for three days, due to a hysterical breakdown in the middle of work. The visions were getting worse. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw a new component of The End, and she couldn’t take it. It was too much loss.
Everyone she loved was going to fade away.
There needed to be something she could change.
There had to be some key decision that would change everything.
There had to be… there had to be…
One month…
Things were getting better.
Y/n was no longer in the hospital. It was easier to hide the pain, the loss the heartbreak… She’d accepted it… because she knew she was going to die.
She’d seen it, and she’d never been wrong.
She was watching herself standing in the woods. There’d been a fight there, recently, but there was no sounds to indicate that it was still happening. The only evidence of a fight was the broken trees, the smell of smoke, and the sight of a few of Tony’s teammates… In fact, there were no sounds at all. Just the whisper in the air of bad things to come, like fate was trying to quietly warn whoever was listening that The End was here.
Thor was standing near her, a look of horror and confusion pulled his eyebrows together, his mouth agape. He was staring at her, but she wasn’t looking at him. She was staring at her own hands, a mixture of sadness and relief lining her face as she watched the color of her skin fade away to nothing, blowing into ash and mixing with the light breeze. It spread up her arms like a paper that caught fire, leaving her limbs to fade into nothing as she looked back up to Thor with a sad smile on her face, before the rest of her dissipated into ash.
“I tried…”
Two weeks…
Tony proposed.
He fucking proposed.
They’d been on a small stroll in an empty park, Luna trailing slowly behind as she tried to hunt the small critters that had come out of hibernation from the winter – finally able to enjoy the spring weather. Their fingers were laced together as they enjoyed the warm weather, finally able to get some fresh air after being cooped up all winter.
Well… Tony enjoyed the weather.
The nice weather was just a cruel reminder to Y/n that their time together was coming to an end, and she had no idea how to stop it.
“You know, I know you live for the aesthetic and everything, dear, but… It’s spring, now. You can wear colors.” He teased, reaching up and giving her short sleeve a slight tug. “Also, why does the creature need to follow us? She makes me nervous.”
Luna yowled at him in response as Y/n looked down at her outfit. She was wearing the same lacey, black, short sleeved dress with a keyhole neckline. The same outfit as Halloween. Even down to the opaque black tights and high-heeled booties.
It left an unsettled feeling in her gut.
“Luna needs exercise, too, Tony.” Y/n responded, shaking it off as the cat trotted towards her and kept pace with the couple. “Especially if you keep trying to bribe her into liking you.”
“She literally left a dead mouse in my shoe.” He scoffed, turning to glare at the unbothered cat. “She hates me.”
“She was leaving you a gift.” She shrugged, giving Luna a sly smile before leaning her head against Tony’s shoulder as they walked. “At least it wasn’t on your pillow.”
“No, just in my two thousand dollar Tom Ford Oxfords.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t buy such expensive shoes.” Y/n giggled, spinning around so she was standing in front of him and pressing a small, chaste kiss against his warm lips. “Luna doesn’t care about material items. She just likes it when you scratch her ears.”
“Tell that to the dozens of claw marks on my hands.” He replied with a snort, wrapping his arms around her waist and caressing his lips against her forehead. “I miss this.”
“Miss what?” She laid her head against his shoulder, fingers gently playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Disagreeing about Luna?”
“Being with you.” He murmured, turning his head to lay his scratchy cheek against her forehead. “I wanna’ be with you forever.”
She closed her eyes, heartbreak piercing her chest as the replay of her vision of his death played behind her eyelids. She desperately wanted to tell him about her visions, but… she was terrified that he’d become reckless or not fight with everything he had, if he knew he was going to die. There was no way to prevent his death, but she would make sure that he enjoyed the last moments they had together. She’d rather take that secret to the grave than let him feel any ounce of pain that she felt.
“I love you.” She whispered, willing the tears back as she sagged against him. “I will always love you.”
“Marry me.” He replied suddenly, shifting around and sliding his hands up to cup her face. “I’ve loved you for so long… You’ve been one of my best friends since we were squirts, and I know I don’t deserve you after what happened… and I know that I haven’t been the best at showing you I love you… and I know that we haven’t been exclusive for that long but-”
She cut off his rambling, arms sliding around his neck as she shoved her lips against his moving ones, forcing him into silence as she threw as much of her love as she could into that kiss. She’d loved him since she was young, too. She’d been so patient for him, knowing they’d eventually be together even as he was dating, sleeping around, and gaining his reputation as a playboy. She tried to think about the first kiss they’d shared as teenagers, trying to convey as much emotion as she could to convince him that she loved him. Which had only grown as they grew older.
She just wished they’d be able to grow old together…
The tears that she’d been holding back slid down her face, and she could taste the salt as she slowly pulled back, pressing her forehead against his. “Yes.”
“Yeah?” He laughed, excitement laced through his voice. “You mean it?”
She nodded, throat closing as she tried to conceal her heartbreak with excitement. The tears wouldn’t stop, and eventually a sob escaped her throat as she buried herself into his neck – hoping he would think that it was just her being emotional about the engagement.
It was better than knowing the truth…
Three days…
Drinking was a bad idea.
Why she decided to drown her sorrows was beyond her, but she was spiraling. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw someone else fade to dust. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw fire. She saw panic.
She saw him.
She knew his name, now.
Thanos.
His agenda wasn’t clear, as her visions only came with flashes, and weren’t always in order… but she knew enough to know that whatever it was, he was going to win. He was going to get what he wanted. He was going to kill to get it.
He was going to kill the ones she loved.
Her last vision had sent her over the edge.
Luna…
She took another swig of her wine, in the middle of completely trashing her greenhouse. Not that she was going to need it, anyways. She’s going to die. Why the hell not? Dirt and plant remains were tossed carelessly to the ground, the tomatoes that she’d grown to hate squishing beneath her shoes as she chucked another clay pot against the wall – shattering it from the sheer force of the throw.
Her music was on as high as she could stand it, the intensity of the heavy metal encouraging her to scream out her rage as she tossed shit around the room.
The only thing untouched was the doll that contained her grandmother’s ashes. The little pumpkin head silently judging her – as usual – as she downed the rest of the wine, throwing the bottle against the wall to add to the piles of shattered items and destroyed hard work.
“Stop- Stop fucking judging me, grandma!” She slurred, screaming at the doll as the room spun around her. “You told me I couldn’t mess with it! You did! Now, look! Now… Everyone! Everyone! They’re all- They’re all going to be gone!”
The doll just stared back.
Two days…
“Bruce?” Tony broke away from you, where you were standing in the park after being interrupted during your run.
“Hi, Tony.”
Two Days…
“Please tell me you’re not in the ship, Tony…” Y/n swallowed thickly, her worst fears beginning to come true. “Please…”
“I can’t tell you that, sweetheart.” He began to cut out, as she fell to her knees clutching the phone to her ear desperately. “I’m sorry.”
One day…
“I have to change it.” She muttered to herself, walking onto the ship to Wakanda with Bruce and the other members of the team. “I’m going to change it.”
One hour…
AIM FOR THE HEAD.
One minute…
She ran through the woods, having broke away from the fighting and sneaking out of Shuri’s lab. She knew what she had to do. She knew what needed to be done.
“THOR!” She screamed, as she happened upon the fighting and mayhem, gasping for breath, “AIM FOR THE-”
Everyone remembered to download their mood boards from the link I provided and did not save the from the website right? If you didn’t please please do so. When you save from the site and then upload to your story the resolution changes and they have a tendency to look fuzzy and no one wants that. Here is the Link to your board
Here it is, my fic for the @thefanficfaerie‘s a picture is worth a thousand words challenge!
The moodboard I chose was Bartender, and to be honest, I’m a bit nervous about this, cause I’m not quite sure that I’ve done her beautiful moodboard justice.
But I hope you like the fic and that I’ve not been too mean to poor Jim. ;)
Fandom: Star Trek AOS
Pairing: Jim Kirk x Reader
Rating: T (for language)
Warnings: bit of crude language (there’s the D-word somewhere in there)
Words: 1816
During your shift your fellow bartender Jim needs a rescue from some pushy ladies, and you’re more than willing to help him out.
The day was slowly starting to fade out, as night was taking over and darkness fell over the city. People were either hurrying along the streets to get back home, or talking excitedly to their friends accompanying them on their search for the best place to spend a night full of fun.
Many of them would find their way to Bad Habits, the bar that you were working at, and where you just had started your shift.
So far business was going slowly, only a few people had already come in and ordered their drinks, so that you had enough time at your hands to clean some glasses, watching as a few more customers entered the bar, looking for booths to sit down.
For now you were content with the silent and peaceful start of the night, but you knew that more people would come later, making you busy with mixing and serving drinks, getting them whatever they wanted.
You liked your job at Bad Habits, felt comfortable with working in the atmosphere of old wooden charm mixed with the excitement of the new and modern. Your favorite was the wall right behind the bar, which held a huge amount of liquors from all over the world, a collection put together by Christopher Pike, the owner of the bar.
On some days, when he was working right beside you and the others, he would tell stories about each bottle, and how he came in their possession. Those days were well loved among the people, as Chris had quite some fantastic stories to tell, one of his bad habits, as he liked to joke.
Thanks to him, Bad Habits felt more like home than a simple workplace, felt more like working with family than some randomly put together strangers.
He set great value on both his customers and even more so his employees having a place where they could feel like they belong.
Truly, the man had spared no expenses to make this a place one wouldn’t be able to forget. And so it was no small wonder that the bar was one of the most popular spots in the city, and you were quite proud of that, as your skills as a bartender added to that.
But you were not the only one who could mix up a mean drink. Your colleagues were just as skilled as you, and everyone had their own speciality.
One of them was Jim Kirk, Mr. Charming himself, chatterbox extraordinaire and master of mixing fruity sins of alcohol.
With his sunny character and friendly attitude, the blond just fit into the role of a bartender as if it was made just for him. He was good at smalltalk, and always had an ear for anyone who needed it.
And he was easy to work with. The two of you had quite the chemistry going on, you worked well together and always found some time to joke with each other. He was a nice guy, genuinely interested in your life and always up for some fun.
At the moment, Jim was busy serving a group of women that had come into the bar a while ago, and it seemed like some of them were already a bit loaded, and now poor Jim had to deal with the consequences of it.
You were watching with a smirk how they were hitting on him, trying to get closer to him, while he was struggling between mixing drinks and politely declining their advances. At times he threw some desperate or annoyed glances at you, and you had to stop yourself from laughing about his misery.
Apparently, you weren’t the only one.
Leonard McCoy, another one of your colleagues and Jim’s best friend, stepped next to you and stared at the suffering blond with unhidden glee.
“So, poor Jimmy needs another rescue? Whose turn is it?”
You smiled at Len, amused at what turn the evening had taken, looking forward to how it would go on from there.
“It’s mine. Remember last time?”
It wasn’t the first time that Jim had to deal with some persistent admirers. Most of them were harmless though, and so Leonard and you had started a little game. Every time Jim needed some “help”, either you or Len would get him out of the situation, while having some fun and messing around with the blond.
Last time, when it had been Leonard’s turn, he had walked up to to Jim, clasped him on the shoulder and congratulated him that the rash he had was nothing too serious and that his dick wouldn’t shrivel up and fall off.
You didn’t know what had been funnier, Jim turning beat red and sputtering, or the horrified face of the drunk dude that had been bugging Jim all evening.
Sure, it had been quite a bit mean, but Jim could give as good as he got. The next day Leonard had turned up at the bar with bright pink hair, grumbling and muttering curses, while Jim had looked like the cat who got the cream.
Back to presence though, Leonard looked at you disappointed, as this was clearly not what he had wanted to hear.
“Damn it, I had hoped that it was my turn. It’s time I get some revenge on Jim for always stealing my food. I regret the day I gave him my apartment key for emergencies.”
“You can still watch, maybe that’s some small comfort to you. Now what to do?”
You kept watching how Jim dealt with the pushy women, while, you were thinking of a unique story for today’s rescue.
Then, suddenly you had an idea and started to grin. Leonard, who had left you alone with your thoughts to take the order of a couple, just returned and noticed this.
“Looks like you got an idea. I hope it’s good.”
You scoffed at him, annoyed how he could question your brilliance. So far every one of your ideas for a rescue had been quite hilarious.
“Of course it is, just watch me.”
And with that you started to make your way over to Jim, trying to keep down your glee and concentrate on the excitement instead.
When you reached him, he seemed to be relieved as soon as he saw you, but that didn’t last very long, as it was replaced by fear soon after. Jim hadn’t forgotten the other times this had happened, and so he knew what was coming.
But you kept going with your plan, and simply hugged the blond who seemed to have accepted his fate for now.
“Jimmy, congrats old boy, I just heard the good news!”
You parted from him, and had to held back laughing when you saw his confusion. Then you turned towards the women, who didn’t seem too happy that you had interrupted them in their attempts to get into the pants of the good looking bartender.
“You know ladies, his wife just called. She gave birth to a beautiful baby boy today, so our dear Jimmy has something to celebrate today. Though his wife wasn’t too happy about him not being there.”
Then you turned back towards Jim and realized that he had started pouting.
“By the way, does that mean that you won’t elope with Leonard? Oh boy, I don’t want to be the one telling him that. Poor guy already got his things packed and your name tattooed on his ass.”
For more dramatic effect you turned back towards the women, who were eyeing Jim suspiciously now. You leaned in closer to the one sitting right across you, and whispered to her loud enough, so that all the others would be able to listen to it, too.
“Leonard really has it bad for this little heartbreaker. And so does his girlfriend. But oh! He’s not supposed to know this! He’d go mad if he knew! Hopefully he didn’t hear us...”
Not quite done with your act, you leaned back and let out a long sigh, ready for finalizing Jim’s rescue.
“Yeah, our Jimmy is quite busy, aren’t you? But don’t let me interrupt your evening any longer, I’m sure you’ll want to chink glasses with our new dad here.”
Finally done, you left Jim alone and went back to Leonard, who looked as if he would start howling with laughter any minute now.
“You liked that Len? How’s it looking for him now?”
The brunet tried his hardest to calm down, and glanced into the blond’s direction.
“That was brilliant! One of the more sober girls dragged the others away from the bar and over to a booth.”
“Oh good. You should totally go over and check if they need anything. I bet they’ll leave you a big tip just out of sympathy at the end of the night. That should make up for your food.”
“Thanks, I owe you one.”
And with that he left you alone and headed towards the woman. Meanwhile, Jim had left his spot and came over to you, still pouting and not looking too happy.
“You know Y/N, that was quite mean.”
“What, you didn’t want to be rescued?”
Jim sighed and ran a hand through his hair. You started feeling a bit bad for him. Maybe you had overdone it?
“No, I did. But fuck, did you have to be so convincing? Now I feel like a complete ass, and I didn’t even do anything. And I have the strong urge to apologize to Bones.”
He suddenly stopped in the middle of his ramblings, looking at you in horror.
“Oh god, please tell me that he didn’t really get my name tattooed.”
As this was the final straw, you couldn’t hold yourself back any longer and started laughing. Honestly, sometimes Jim was truly too adorable.
It took you a while to get yourself back under control, but in the end you stopped laughing when you saw Jim’s crestfallen face.
“Aww, Jim. I’m sorry. How can I make it up to you?”
He suddenly smirked at you, mischief twinkling in his eyes.
“How about you call my wife and tell her I’m sorry?”
You snorted, relieved that he wasn’t too angry about the prank and was willing to even go on with it.
“Ah, I don’t know Jim. Where do I get you a wife at this time of the day?Nevermind, how about I’ll invite you for dinner instead? Are you free tomorrow? We should both have the day off and I’m dying to go out and have some fun.”
Suddenly, Jim beamed at you, pure delight written all over his face.
“That sounds lovely. It’s a date!”
You were surprised that he had phrased it like that, but you smiled and nodded in agreement. Then you had to turn away, as someone stepped towards the bar to order a drink.
