Summary: when being with him is the first thing that comes to your mind... after money
Characters: hitman!Yoongi & assassin!reader
Words: 1,5K
Genre: action

You stand in front of his rigid figure the way you always do - aiming your pitch black gun at your next victim whose shabby body gets on your nerves as easily as a snail finds peace in its fragile home among noisy children. You are furious without any particular reason but for those who know you, there is nothing new in this setting since you have always been infamous for your impatience and even your boss fears you sometimes because of your temper that tends to break loose in the least inappropriate moments. Like now, when your right hand starts to shake out of the blue and nervousness forces you to gulp.

Come on! What are you, a girl or something?

So, acting like the professional assassin you really are, you shut out reality - well, at least you try as if your life depended on it - and focus on your target with ease, keeping an eye on your competitor who seems extremely cold as those characteristic, frosty features appear on his face. He is like a statue made of ice and broken pieces of hatred and love.

‘Put the gun down, cutie pie! This is the last time I ask you nicely,’ he orders you harshly knowing literally no opposition as his gaze remains the same, observing the sweaty man in the middle of the warehouse. The mentioned bastard who clearly doesn’t possess any dignity is already on his knees begging and crying for his life, not knowing who to turn to - you or the man standing still on the other side of the room.

The laugh that leaves your mouth is rough. It’s been a while since you met someone so unworthy of your time.

‘In your wildest dreams, lumpy,’ you reply nonchalantly before you wink at the hitman from above and take a few steps forward getting suffocatingly close. ‘He is mine,’ you whisper chewing your red lips then grab the man and pull him up from the concrete. His weight rests on your muscles while his stinky smell fills your nostrils with something akin to roasted cinder. You can feel your dinner fighting its way back to your mouth. ‘I need that money.’

You put your index-finger under his sloopy chin and fit your gun close to his temple. Seeing his face, satisfaction runs through your veins.

‘So do I and  I’m not that kind of man who lets a woman go first,’ he admits with an unseen smirk that slowly forms in the corner of his mouth. He looks at you as a hungry lion looks at his prey and for the first time in your life you feel vulnerable and weak. So, you clear your throat, stretch your back and let the bastard go with a loud sigh out of annoyance.

Letting out your frustration, you pull the trigger once and twice and even though you forget to aim your bullets lodge into bleeding flesh causing the man endless agony and pain. His scream fills the void falling onto your group.

‘Damn it!’ the hitman swears while he steps closer, pushing you away from your target. ‘Don’t make me!’

His empty threat makes you laugh and the tinkling sound that leaves your mouth sends shivers down his spine. Still speechless, his almond-shaped eyes become wide and blurry because of your unexpectable personality and irrational action.

You step in front of him, fearless. You have always wanted to know how standing face to face with the devil would feel like.

‘Or what?’ you ask when your lips reach the silver earring that hangs in his lobe. Your warm breath cuts the air out of his lungs and the way his muscles tense up under your palm resting on his shoulder paints a mischievous smile onto your face.

You the bottom of the accessory then take a step backwards with raised hands.

‘I will shoot you in the heart,’ he gives you his answer and looking into his emotionless eyes with icy pupils and merciless irises you know that a part of him - a God knows how dominant part of him - wants you dead and is being serious about every single vowel and syllable of every damn word he says.

Yet, you let your legs take over control standing still without a second thought. You’re not afraid. What’s more! You kinda enjoy the thrill that washes over your body from your head to your toes.

‘Fine, do it then. It’s not like I care or anything,’ you reply and let your hands crashing onto your limbs with an ugly grimace on your pretty face. Not that anyone would notice your sudden disappearance. You are not friendly therefore you are lack of drinking buddies and so-called mates. You are forever alone but never lonely. You are the definition of independent women, the role model of the newest century.

You straighten your back and look the handsome hitman in the eye. The cold metal against your chest makes your breathing heavy.

Wishing that your instincts don’t make a mockery of your judgement, you let fate choose your final destination and aim at the dying man once again. Your chest’s bouncing like crazy as the disgusting mixture of dust and air fills your lungs.

The black haired assassin tilts his head to right. He observes you, your parted lips and starry eyes, then takes a sharp breathe and glides his gaze to the wanted man.

‘Gosh…’ he starts as he scratches his nape with his empty hand. For a mere moment, he looks confused and uncharastically insecure. ‘You know that I would gladly give this man to you, cutie pie,’ he says in a voice so faint that you have to lean closer to understand his mumbling. While he speaks, the gun starts to shake in his hand and for some irrational reason all you can think about is your body that would surely act the same under his slim fingers.

He almost puts down his weapon. To be honest, you actually believe it for a minute but something happens halfway there - something you cannot really put your finger on - that forces him to change his mind, aiming the gun at the half-unconscious man.

‘But I have no choice.’

And you know that he is absolutely and completely serious. Unlike last time, he is ready to be the one who pulls the trigger first and also shoot every single target that comes into his way during the process. For him, it is so much more than a simply job, a bullet point on his list.

Watching his tired gaze filled with vengence, you lose against his husky voice because there is no way you can kill that man with the black haired man standing next to you. How could you? You cannot even find the power in yourself to protest, to raise your voice.

‘Okay, then give me something else in return,’ you bargain with a soft smile as you put your pitch black gun into your pocket and turn your back on the man whose gaze craves for blood with the thirst of an animal. He scares you and turns you on at the same time.

‘Hah,’ the hitman laughs changing his focus between you and his victim. The raspy sound fills the atmosphere with odd joy a strange and unfamiliar shade of happiness. ‘As if there would be anything that’s more important for you than the prize on his head.’

You cannot decipher the reason of it but his accusation tugs your stomach cutting deep into your pride.

‘There is!’ you declare with clenched fists and lips as faint as daytime without sunlight. It takes you several moments and him several others until the cogs in your brain start to move running in productive circles. Your first idea is a new phone then a new gun. Material needs that could prove you hella wrong as soon as your wish slips out of your mouth. Disappointment boils in your veins therefore your lips form the first thing that is lack of money and spending tons of cash. ‘What about you taking me on a date?’

It’s Valentine’s Day, after all.

‘What? Are you for real?’ he asks with his dark brows knitted to each other. His disbelief hurts you even more. Does he not find you attractive wearing your black leather jacket, skinny jeans and white tee combo? Does he dislike your creamy parfume or the way you bite your lips whenever you are angry or frustrated? Does he share his bedroom with the opposite ?

You roll your eyes and lift your right hand so that you can put it onto your chest.

‘Cross my heart and hope to die,’ you say out loud with a smile that shakes your lips due to insecurity. You fear his rejection.

But your deal is more than satisfying therefore he accepts it with the same, joyful expression that allows you a generous look at his white teeth and gummy smile.

‘Fine,’ he says aiming his gun at the man. ‘Just give me a sec and I’m gonna be all yours tonight.’

And Min Yoongi does become yours.

For your entire life.