dreamland (bill skarsgard one shots)

22. the gangster and the doll

WARNINGS: violence, questionable morality, dom/sub dynamic, daddy kink, bondage, roughness, filth

↭

"I'm boooored."

That was the seventh time Valter had heard those words in the past six minutes. How did he know it had been seven times? Because he'd been counting. And with each passing moment, he was growing more and more annoyed that she kept saying those words. Or, rather, whining them.

He was trying to be nice, he was trying to be patient. Really, he was. She was his brother's girl, and if he even looked at her the wrong way, Bill would slap him into next week. But damn, she was sometimes extremely difficult to handle. He silently cursed Bill for putting him in charge of keeping an eye on her. Bill called it "protecting her" but Valter saw it as babysitting.

The blonde sighed, looking from her, to the building she was standing outside of, and back to her. They had about fifteen minutes before Bill walked out of that building, and Valter really didn't want to spend those remaining fifteen minutes with her. So, he reached into his pocket, slipping out his wallet and handing her a few bills. "Just go buy yourself something from the store across the street. You'd better be back in ten minutes, before Bill comes back out."

She laughed with glee, standing on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. "Thanks!" And then she was off, practically sprinting across the street. At the time, Valter thought it seemed like a good idea to let her occupy herself at the shop across the street. But it would soon become clear that that was indeed a mistake, and a careless one at that.

Bill was not in a good mood. (But really, when was he ever in a good mood?) He had a right to be in a sour mood today, though. It was collection day, after all. It was always the same, week after week. These people knew it was collection day, yet there were always those few that would make excuses. That was exactly what Bill was dealing with that very moment.

Danny Callahan was always making excuses. He had no fear, it seemed, despite the fact that he'd been backhanded by Bill's ring decorated hands more times than he could count for being so difficult. He always ended up with the welts to prove it.

It was always a guessing game for Bill. He'd step into Danny's butcher shop every Thursday morning, wondering what excuse or act he'd come up with this time. Last time, he'd tried to get out of paying his dues by saying his missus was in the hospital. Bill knew this to be false because he'd just walked past Danny's woman, who'd been sweeping the storefront when he came in. That lie had earned Danny a bloody nose and a not so nice warning.

This day in particular, when Bill walked in, flanked by his brother Gustaf, he was met with the sight of Ginger, Danny's only daughter. She was at the register that day, and Bill was quick to notice how she pushed her shoulders back, clearly accentuating her bust, and how she sucked the eraser end of her pencil between her red stained lips.

"Hi!" She cheerily greeted. "What can I do for you fellas?"

It was more than obvious that Danny had purposely put her at the register so he could avoid confrontation. Bill grew even more irritated than he already was, but he remained collected in front of Ginger, wanting to remain respectful and polite to the younger girl. He plastered on a fake smile. "Is your daddy in?"

"He's somewhere," she carelessly murmured.

"Well, can you go get him, sweetheart? I need to speak with him."