𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐘 彡 [jjk oneshots]

ミ✮ 𝐫𝐞𝐝-𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝┆[y. tsukumo]

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: yuki tsukumo x fem!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3484

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: in which an outcast entangled with criminals makes the mistake of stealing from the wrong woman

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: strong language, a mildly overused backstory was applied to the reader, minor angst but it transitions to fluffy bullshit, pickpocketing?, sexual tension (barely), yuki has me in a chokehold

𝐕. 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐬 — i have overlooked this goddess for too long simply because i was busy worshipping maki (she's still my #1, don't get me wrong—i would walk through hell for maki i stg)

｡･:*:･ﾟ★

𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐏 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐃, two steps back. That's how it went each day. It was becoming predictably obnoxious that there was no feasible alternative to this type of life. The soles of scuffed white sneakers slammed against the pavement—taking turns one after the other.

Left foot. Right foot. Left foot and so forth.

Any past mistakes or critical missed opportunities were the least of her concerns as she sprinted down the crowded city streets, roughly shoving people out of her path.

The very bottom of her cargo pants had drooped lower than they should have as a result of all the sudden movements, so it was no surprise that rainwater had been collected by the fabric as her pants continued to drag against the ground. Spotting a nearby opening between two buildings, the disheveled girl—with expert precision—tucked herself into the minimally lit alleyway, finally finding solace in a hidden corner.

Sniffling and wiping at her nose with the back of her hand, she exhaled a shaky breath and leaned her back tightly against the wall. She was so very impatient—fingers practically twitching at the thought of analyzing her progress thus far. Reaching deeply into her pocket, the young delinquent pulled out a downtrodden faux leather wallet with the brown paint peeling off the item.

What the hell? Another one? Ain't this supposed to be the rich part of the city? And these people carry cheap replicas.

She lamented inside her head before deciding to open the wallet with shaking hands. The girl remained silent, holding her breath while she went through some random man's personal belongings. She cut right to the chase and went for the compartment housing the money. Once she held the bills between her fingers, the wallet was harshly discarded right beside her and directly next to a heap of garbage bags waiting to be picked up.

Her front teeth bit down onto her lower lip—almost close to drawing blood—when she began sorting through the money. With each bill counted, she was losing more faith in her abilities.

But not in her decision to do business with one of the most dangerous gangs. There were pros to her idiocy of course; she got hot meals every night and a roof over her head—albeit via a shitty fucking room that smelled like mold. It was better than living like a street rat for the rest of her existence and scavenging for scraps of half-eaten food inside dumpsters.

But right now? Right now the young woman's stomach churned and her head throbbed when the sum of all the money was accounted for. Forcefully stuffing the money into the pocket of her hoodie, she crumpled to the ground while clutching her head—fingers digging into her semi-greasy hair. It was all going downhill.