Unlucky (Yandere Oneshots x Reader)

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ Sad Lullabies ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ (I)

Part One

The world was built upon a monetary system that conditioned the rich to want more and the poor to only dream. (Y/N) was stuck in between the tornado of the 1920s. The 18th Amendment of the United States Consitution banned the sale and manufacture of alcoholic beverages. Yet these laws only drove opposers to fight against the government's ruling, causing a massive soar in crimes.

Drug trafficking, illegal gambling, and bootleg liquor businesses transformed into criminal enterprises. Men and women began running their own underground empires through smuggling, money laundering, and bribing police and public officials to look the other way.

(Y/N) worked in a speakeasy, in other words: an illegal bar. It paid good money though, enough to help (Y/N) buy groceries and live in an apartment that was the size of a small shed.

Laughter overpowered the loud jazz music that blared from the live band. The speakeasy was dimly lit, yet it was worked well to display the sophisticated aesthetics of the bar. Various red-leather, cushioned booths lined along the walls, while tables were evenly spread out before the small stage. A bar was stationed on the side of the building. Men and women gathered at the bar table, sitting on the wooden bar stools before a bartender.

The double doors of the entrance push open. Two gentlemen open the door for their boss, allowing him to enter the speakeasy without any effort. The man leading the charge was a dark-haired gentleman. His orbs were a brilliant shade of blue, glowing through the dimness of the speakeasy. He was chilling just by first glance, his gaze hard and his handsome features tense.

Men and women that were walking towards him instantly dart out of the man's way.

"Mr. Borne," the bartender greets the man, "Whiskey?"

Mr. Borne sits upon one of the bar stools, making the people next to him quickly walk out of their seats to avoid him. The young man nods and is instantly given a glass of alcohol with ice cubes floating in the gold liquid.

His blue orbs drifted towards the stage, where the spotlight shines upon the silhouette of a beautiful woman.

A fur coat fell from her biceps, revealing her (s/c) shoulders. The white dress sequin dress glittered in the light; silver beads and sequin lining bodice and hips as feathers flared from her long skirt. Her (h/c) hair flowed to her shoulders and the side of her hair was pinned into a reverse roll, revealing the nape of her neck.

Wolfish whistles, hoots, and hollers were directed towards the girl, making her frown for a moment. Though no one saw, Mr. Borne did. As much as she disliked it, (Y/N) must bear with the unwanted cat-calling. All she had to do was sing and look pretty while doing it. Then, sayonara, (Y/N) is outta here and carrying bucks for the week.

The girl was singing her own rendition of Ella Fitzgerald's popular song. No music spilled from the band behind her, at least not yet.

"When the only sound in the empty street, is the heavy tread of the heavy feet, that belong to a lonesome cop. I open shop," a trumpet softly stirs into the club. The crowd hollers once more as (Y/N) continued, "When the moon so long has been gazing down, on the wayward ways of this wayward town, that her smile becomes a smirk, I go to work."

Caressing the wires of the ribbon microphone, (Y/N) projects her sultry voice over the gawking male partygoers, "Love for sale, appetizing young love for sale."

"Darlin', I'd buy your love any day!" a man in the crowd shouts, causing an uproar of men to agree with him.

"Love that's fresh and still unspoiled," the girl hummed, "Love that's only slightly soiled. Love for sale!" (Y/N) already has the crowd stirred up, but if the club's manager were to pay her extra, she needed to up the ante. Slowly and sensually, the young woman takes off her fur coat to reveal her shoulders, making aroused groans bellow from the audience.