[requests closed!]
imagines for the cast of multiple shows dedicated to first responders or hospital personnel; i do not own any of the characters mentioned unless otherwise stated.
PLEASE NOTE: these imagines may contain strong language or sensitiv...
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"Hi, I just want to deposit this into my savings account," you told the bank teller, handing her a check written to you by your mother. You'd fixed her internet a few days ago—nothing was wrong with it, she just didn't have it plugged in—and although you didn't mind, she insisted you take her payment along with a plate of homemade food. You lived in the same town that you attended high school in, so your mother lived fairly close with your younger sister.
"Alrighty, and just sign on the back there, and you'll be all done," the teller smiled, handing you a pen. On the side it read "Trust Union Banking: Put Your Trust In Us!" You signed the check and handed it to her, and once the money entered your account, you bid her farewell. As you were nearing the exit, a group of people rushed in. They were wearing black masks and holding large guns—ones you recognized as AK's. You didn't own any firearms, but your father knew his way around some with his country upbringing.
"EVERYBODY DOWN ON THE GROUND!" the first person yelled, and you immediately recognized their voice as a male. You quickly fell to the floor, covering your face. You were terrified, so you did as they said without thinking twice. One person who refused to cooperate was shot, making you jump with fear. "If you all want to live, you'll do as we say," he said, walking towards the counter you just left from. You stayed down, too scared to even breathe. As two out of the five men demanded money from the vault, the one surveyed the place while the other two rounded every hostage up and zip tied their hands together.
At this point, the men didn't have their masks on—five white males allowing their faces to be freely seen. This was alarming to you, because usually when they have masks on, it's because they don't want to be recognized in a lineup when they leave possible witnesses behind to identify them. If they're showing their faces, they probably don't intend on leaving people alive, which concerned you. When one man reached you, he pushed you against a small glass table. You fell too roughly into it, breaking it on your way down and cutting your arm. It began to bleed a dark red, indicating a nicked vein. The man who pushed you couldn't care less, as he pulled you to your feet. When you locked eyes with him, his face ran cold.
You were confused as to why that would happen—you couldn't think of any reason a grown man with four other grown men all holding AK's would be afraid of.. you. A sweet, 5'2", 130 pound woman with nothing but a purse and a Star Wars t-shirt on. "Uh, yo," he called for the others. They didn't hear him as he had his locked with yours the entire time, so he called again louder, panic in his voice. "YO! It's her!" he yelled, showing the men your face smeared with your blood from the fall.
They all looked at you, the color draining from their faces. "A-A-Alright, just grab what you can and let's get the HELL out of here, and NO ONE touches her."
