Guns and Cigarettes [Levi/Rivaille x OC]

Chapter 1: A Scripted Meeting

"Hey sugar," It was like his disgusting face was eyeing a tiramisu dish on the table, licking his goddamn filthy lips as the dreadful words left them. Even in the emerging darkness as the cold night sky swallowed up the whole dome, it was obvious that there were a few blokes parked behind him too; kicking shut the metal door and leaning against the brick walls of the alleyway as they snickered and wolf whistled at me.

I looked up from my glowing phone screen, furrowing my brow unpleasingly at them as I repositioned the slung guitar case over my shoulder. The air reeked in the clogging smell of tobacco, clearly coming off the guys surrounding me as they blocked the only way towards the main road.

"Are you referring to me, retard?"

"Whoa whoa whoa! What big words for a little lady like you?" He sneered, exchanging eye contact with his fellow cohorts in crime as they sniggered in unison. "Feisty."

The ring leader, the so-called Mark, who leant against the backdoor of the bar like a fucking piece of mutated shit, glazed his eyes all over me, a sickening smile emerging on his face as he slowly ambled closer. I wasn't stupid either; I knew what these guys wanted, and it wasn't as simple as a choc chip cookie. Too poor to afford a professional prostitute?

My hand fumbled in my hoodie pocket, the coolness of my closed knife sinking into my fingertips. I didn't have the girly pepper sprays because Robert said the combination of cordial-like lemon juice and pepper wasn't efficient enough against the city of growing crimes. You just had to do it the traditional way; and it was a lot more fun too... not that he really suggested any violence or anything.

"You're one fine gal up there," He chuckled, "How about I pay you fifty to sing to me? And perhaps give a lap dance?"

My dark round eyes rolled large infinite circles to the point of no return, my cold exposed lips rising up to a despiteful sneer as the words floated out into the cold blood-setting atmosphere.

"Fuck off."

That was enough to enrage them all.

"Look girly, you're all alone out here," The tough bloke cracked his knuckles threateningly as he closed up on me, his eyes glistening in desire. "What's so bad about having a bit of fun with us?"

"Just fuck her already."

Sigh.

The reason why I hadn't fumbled over the keys to get the police on the line with the dramatic suspenseful violin music in the background like some pathetic horror movie shit was because I wasn't in such a bright light myself. Long story short, those guys waking up the whole neighbourhood with their red and blue sirens might not like me as much as the hooligans I was up against.

And I wasn't going to stick around for long either.

Ten at night in the city of sprouting crimes and horny thugs was no place to stay.

My blond streaked dark hair whipped behind my sprinting figure as I dashed through the dark brick alleyway in the opposite direction of the pack of guys. The hard wooden guitar case held onto my shoulder for dear life, silently begging me to be gentler with every harsh step my foot planted onto the cracked damp pavements beneath.

"Where do you think you're going?" Their laughing hyena voices howled behind me, followed by the dreaded echoes of their bulky footsteps scrambling after my Converse ones.

Shit.

A little gasp was trapped in the midst of my hardened throat as I sensed his firm ghastly grip on my shoulder, and immediately everything in view was skinned away from their cotton candy, big apple peels as my mind went through a loop of terror and angst.