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Fanfiction Drunk Drabbles (1 Viewer)

daesuki

이 비가 그칠 땐 각자 있던 곳에서
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So me and this group of people have this thing once a month where we get drunk and then write drabbles, here's the first two i did

Red Lotus, Red Herring - BamBam

The velvet is heavy on your shoulders and the cocktail light in your hands. The glass is full. You’ve not taken a sip. After all, you don’t drink on the job.

It’s hot in the room, you’re pulling at your collar. Anxiety is spiking as you make your way past the crowds. Your target is moving just as fast; maybe he knows.

That can’t be right. You’ve made sure every single possible lead about you had been nipped in the bud. But you prepare for the worst. You always must expect the worst. And if the best happens, you take it when it comes.

Currently, there’s this one man who’s setting you on edge. He’s been standing in the corner all evening. It may not seem bad to someone else, but this is a party. A party where talking to others is in your best interest. This man, though, is following your every move. Masquerade party or not, you know his eyes are following you.

It’s unnerving, but you have a mission to fulfil. Once you finish this, you’ll be set for life. Your employer paid good money for this. And if you don’t complete this well, your life will cost just as much.

You can see your target at the banquet table. Completely unaware of what will happen, the man is talking to a young woman who seems to only be interested in the fact that he had an extremely expensive watch on. You and me both, girl, you think to yourself, mildly amused. Gotta get dough somehow, and maybe you’re not quite cut out for that assassin life.

However, as much as you find this entertaining, you have things to do and places to be. Walking up, you brush your fingertips along your target’s sleeve, throwing him a slightly sultry gaze. “You don’t mind if I borrow Mr Lee for a little, do you?” you ask apologetically to the young lady, but your tone leaves no room for argument.

She leaves after only a moment’s hesitation, and the aforementioned Mr Lee is led away like a lamb to the slaughter. He didn’t know what was coming to him; you had led him into the hallway where all the young businessmen romance their young lovers. So when you pushed him against the wall, he was not expecting the cold metal pressing to his stomach. “Wha- who are you?” he chokes out, and the glint of your teeth is all that you respond with.

However, before you can pull the trigger, a knife flew past your face. Before you could fire the gun, Mr Lee books it back into the party. Frustrated, you swing your gun to aim at the young man who had ruined your chances of living in comfort for the next however many years.

You don’t pull the trigger, however, curious as to his motives. The stranger who threw the knife comes forward, backing you into the men’s bathroom. He’s tall, skinny, and someone who doesn’t look like a threat. But in your line of work, everyone is a threat.

“Who the hell are you?” you hiss at him in the largest bathroom stall.

“Ah ah ah, don’t pretend you don’t know the rules of the game,” the man tuts. “Never tell your name to strangers, love. You surely remember me, BamBam.”

“All right, BamBam,” the confident tone of your voice hides your apprehension at him. A well-known assassin and your competitor. You’ve never seen him in the face, and now you’re not sure you ever want to. “What is your intent?”

BamBam laughs. “Don’t be stupid. Isn’t it clear?” You sneer.

“Well, I appreciate the thought, but next time don’t get in the way of my kills. Do you know the bounty on my head now that you’d done it?” BamBam just laughs, and your eye twitches.

“Don’t worry. It’s not my fault that I want money.” Well, you can’t fault him for that. But you can fault him from taking your biggest job away from you. You know for a fact that the contract he gives to possible employers protects him from their wrath. And he’s good enough that it doesn’t affect the number of customers he gets.

“Why are you protecting Mr Lee anyway? He isn’t the type you’d agree to save.” BamBam laughs, the sound unnerving you.

“(Y/N), I thought you were smarter than this,” he tuts. “I’m not trying to save Mr Lee, though that did earn me a little extra coin.”

He chuckles sinisterly, pulling off his mask. Behind it is a young man with big, innocent eyes and full lips stretched into a smile. If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought he was nothing but a young, overconfident man. “I’m here to kill you.”


Death in the Afternoon - Youngjae

The TV was background noise as you lounged on the couch. You weren’t really paying attention, only catching snippets of a live broadcast of some ball of some such going on. It had been on since a few hours ago, and you were invested in the first thirty minutes, but it’s late, and you’re bored. You had been waiting for your husband, Youngjae, to come home since ages ago, but he didn’t.

While waiting, you ended up falling asleep on the couch. Waking up, you had a bit of a headache. You suppose it was your own fault for having one or two cocktails while you waited, but you shook it off, standing up to get some water. When you glanced at the coat rack, you noticed Youngjae was still out.

Frowning, you shot him a text. It’s not like him to be out so late. You didn’t want to police him, per se, but you would like to know what has gotten him out this late. Hopefully, he’d reply soon. You pursed your lips, heading upstairs to get some aspirin for your headache.

You didn’t normally drink, but you wanted the thrill of the ball Youngjae went to. You weren’t able to go, unable to find a last-minute babysitter for your son, Seungmin, so you had your own little way to celebrate. God, when he woke up, you didn’t want to deal with a headache. You loved your son with all your heart, but he could be such a brat.

The doorbell rang. Youngjae is back. You don’t recall him forgetting his keys, but he had been getting more and more forgetful these days. You make your way back downstairs, opening the door and squinting through the bright sunlight at the man who was not your husband.

“Hello, ma’am,” the policeman’s hat is tucked under his arm and his hair is messy like he ran his hand through it a few times before ringing the doorbell. “I’m Officer Yugyeom. We have some news about your husband, Choi Youngjae. Would you like to come with us to the hospital?”
 

daesuki

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Between The Sheets
Yugyeom didn’t know how he ended up in this part of Seoul. Well, he’s been in Itaewon before. But not this part of Itaewon. The part that only the old businessmen looking to take the edge off work before heading home to their wife go to. Thankfully, Yugyeom was here on the job.

Not so thankfully, he was here undercover. Which means he has to deal with the men and women looking to make a quick buck. Too many people had approached him, looking to offer him their services. Yugyeom doesn’t even know why, he wasn’t that attractive. He was tall and gangly, no one wants that in their bed.

But, he supposed that money was appealing. And with how he was dressed, in an Armani suit and necktie (which was really uncomfortable, now that he thought about it), they must have thought he bled gold. (He wished. A policeman’s pay isn’t that great.) But he had a mission.

A mission he regrets taking on every passing minute. At the moment, he’s standing in front of the establishment he was supposed to meet a suspect at. Sehyoon always called it the whore house but Yugyeom didn’t really think it was nice of him. They were just trying to make a living.

But here comes the...housemaster. Someone taller than even Yugyeom, he feels a little intimidated. “Are you Mr…” The man looks down at his hand, reading something written on his palm. “Mr Yugyeom?”

Yugyeom nods but then confirms with an unintentional stutter. “Ye...yes.” The man smiled condescendingly.

“New here? Well, you’ve booked (Y/N). She’ll be a pretty easy first go.” His smile was slightly unnerving but Yugyeom ignored the sinking feeling in his gut and just pressed a few hundred dollar bills into the housemaster’s hand. The housemaster accepts the money with another smile and chuckle and guides Yugyeom down a set of winding halls.

The two of them stop in front of a tattered curtain, and the housemaster knocks on the doorframe loudly. “(Y/N)-ah,” he says in a sing-song voice. If Yugyeom had no context, he’d think the housemaster was calling out to his child.

Before the undercover policeman can say anything, he is unceremoniously shoved into the room where who he assumes to be (Y/N) is sitting on the bed with only an oversized tank top covering them. “Hello?” Yugyeom greets them, and they laugh.

“You’re cute, Oppa. Is it all right if I call you that?” Yugyeom can feel his ears flush.

“I-” No. He can’t get distracted now. He has to be undercover. “Yeah.” Dammit.

(Y/N) smiles. “Come here, and let’s get this show on the road.” As if pulled by an invisible string, Yugyeom moves forward, and (Y/N) immediately pulls on his tie when he gets close enough. This will be a long night, especially from the look in (Y/N)’s eyes.

Yugyeom doesn’t know how he ended up staying the night, to be honest. He was supposed to gather intel, not sleep with a sex worker. He also didn’t know how (Y/N) ended up dead.

Well. He knew how, from strangulation from the bedsheets. But why kill them? And why? Wouldn’t he have been the target? He brushes a finger across their cheek, frowning at the glassy cold of the skin. He thinks this case is a lot bigger than he had hoped.

It was the tip of the iceberg.

Adios Mother[fricker]
Mark pulls his phone out from the pocket, scanning over the text his partner sent him. A smile flicks over his face. He has this in the bag now. With every evidence he needs, he can sweep this under the bag. Soon this will all be over and he can go back to sleeping in late.

God, this was such a difficult job, why did he agree to take this on? The money was good, amazing, a sum large enough for him to retire immediately. But this wasn’t usually the type of job Mark would take on. Fuck it once again. Let’s just get this done as quickly as possible.

Voices are coming down the hallway and Mark slips his phone into his pocket, turning to greet whoever it was. “Jaebeom-ah,” he smiles tightly. “How was it? Did you hear from him yet?”

Jaebeom just shrugs, pulling off the latex gloves with a snap, and tosses them into the trash bin haphazardly. “Went as well as it could’ve gone, I suppose. We’ll see tomorrow when he decides to call us.” Mark nods once, twice, pleased.

They wouldn’t know how it would turn out, they could only hope and pray for the best. Mark just wants this over with.

“I suppose Jackson can finally do what he wanted then,” Jaebeom shrugged. “Now that that bitch is disposed of.”

Mark tsk’s, pinching Jaebeom’s ear lightly. “Don’t speak ill of the dead, no matter whatever occupation they were in. It’s bad luck.” Jaebeom just rolls his eyes, heading out the opposite door and probably going home to his family. Mark snorts.

“Adios, mother[fricker],” he calls out long after the doors slam shut and Jaebeom is already on the road. He doesn’t need a response anyway, picking up his phone and dialling in a number. “Let’s get this party started.”
 

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