Justin Bieber Imagines [Interracial]

Debt

As you rubbed your hand over your freshly shaven leg, you smiled at the smooth feeling. You made sure your robe was tied, but was still loose enough for Justin to get your message.

He had been super stressed lately, and although you didn't know why, you wanted to help him relieve some of that stress.

He had texted you ten minutes ago saying he was leaving the studio and that he'd be home in 40 minutes.

Just as you were about to go and fix your hair again, the doorbell rang and you smiled. See, you had sneakily taken Justin’s house keys earlier so he’d have no choice but to see you when you open the door.

You headed down the stairs with a small smirk on your face, knowing you'd make Justin’s night when he got there–you always did.

Without even bothering to look in the peephole, you swung the door open, only to have a gun pointed at your nose.

“You scream and I blow your fucking brains out.” The man before you threatened, and no matter how much of a argumentative bitch you were, this was not a time you were going to not listen.

“Hello there darling.” Another voice said. You saw a shorter man emerge from behind the larger one. He had rings on all his fingers and like three watches on each arm. “Mind if we come in, sweetheart?”

You opened your mouth to say no, but the tall guy pressed the gun to your forehead and gave it a rough nudge, making you stumble backwards allowing them entrance.

“It wasn't exactly a question,” The shorter one smirked as he looked around, “This is a lovely home you have here. Mind if I take a look around?”

“I have no idea what this is about,” You gulped and held your hands up in surrender, “But I think you have the wrong house. I literally have done nothing wrong.”

“Aren't you y/f/n? Girlfriend of Justin Bieber?” He asked as he cracked his knuckles with a small smile which let you know he already knew exactly who you were.

“Bitch I might be,” You crossed your arms, “It depends on what you want.”

“I want your boyfriend.”

“What the hell for?” You threw your hands up in the air, “All his white ass does is sit in the studio all day! What could he possibly have done to you?”

“He owes me money,” He replied. He walked past you and began to explore the house.

You scoffed, “Why the hell would Justin need to borrow money from you? If you haven’t realized, he’s kind of rich.”

On the inside, you were scared shitless that there was a gun still pointed way too close at you for your liking, but you weren't going to show them that.

“You really don't know what your boyfriend does when he's not home, do you?” He smirked as he walked into the living room.

You followed him, eyes narrowed. “I'm starting to think I don't know–would you like to enlighten me?”

“Your boyfriend is a hardcore gambler,” He replied as he picked up a picture of you and Justin from several months ago. “He owes me about 3 million dollars.”

Your eyes went wide and jaw hit the floor. Three million dollars?! Were you seriously about to get shot over Justin owing people money when he has so fucking much of it?!

“You know he doesn't really love you, right?” The man called, pulling you out your trance.

“Excuse me?” You asked with attitude.