#ATM Withdrawal Charges

[rightnewshindi]

1 अप्रैल 2025 से नए बैंकिंग नियम: SBI, PNB, Canara, HDFC ग्राहकों के लिए बड़े बदलाव

New Banking Rules 1 April 2025: भारतीय रिजर्व बैंक (RBI) ने बैंकिंग सिस्टम को मजबूत, सुरक्षित और ग्राहकों के लिए सुविधाजनक बनाने के उद्देश्य से 1 अप्रैल 2025 से ��ई नए नियम लागू करने की घोषणा की है। इन नियमों का असर SBI, PNB, Canara Bank, HDFC Bank जैसे प्रमुख सार्वजनिक और निजी क्षेत्र के बैंकों के खाताधारकों पर पड़ेगा। यह बदलाव पारदर्शिता, डिजिटल सुरक्षा और वित्तीय स्थिरता को बढ़ावा देने के लिए…

[banglakhobor]

আবার বাড়ল এটিএম চার্জ ! এবার থেকে কত দিতে হবে আপানাকে ?

ATM Charges: আবার বাড়ল এটিএম চার্জ ! এবার থেকে কত দিতে হবে আপানাকে ? Source link

[rafesangelita]

♡ sarah finds out about you and rafe.

warnings: best friends brother, arguing, cursing, brief mention of addiction, suggestive ending ;)

a/n: this takes place the day after this part, so i recommend reading that before. this is the last part so i just want to give a huge thanks to everyone who has shown so much love to this mini series of mine. i’ll be working on requests for the next couple of days but i already have something new that i’m cooking up for all of you 🎀 mini series masterlist can be found: here <3

wc: 1.5k

“hey, how do you want your eggs-” rafe was looking down at his phone when you walked into the room, his jaw tightening as he scrolled through something. “what’s wrong?” you sat next to him as he put his phone in your hands. “look at that shit. sarah has our summer allowance in the fucking negatives,” he was seething at this point. shaking his head, he yelled, ‘fuck!’, making you jump slightly. “i’m sorry,” rafe was quick to reassure you, “no, no, it’s okay. what should we do now?” you rubbed his arm, smiling at him so he knew you were alright.

“well, i’m gonna have to call my dad and let him know that we don’t have anymore money, and of course he’s gonna think it’s because of me.” rafe laughed bitterly. “why would he assume it’s your fault?” you glanced up at him, handing him back his phone. “because..” rafe spoke low, “i had a history of going to the cut and using his money for something else, and he hasn’t necessarily let that go.” he explained. you sighed, thinking for a moment. “look at the recent charges, what do they say?” rafe clicked on the account, his eyebrows knitting in confusion.

“what the fuck. there’s nothing but a whole bunch of atm withdrawals.” both of you looked at each other, “i don’t know how she’s withdrawing money without a card.” he looked around his room for a second, before jumping up and making his way downstairs. “what is it?” you followed him. rafe stayed quiet while he rummaged through his wallet, throwing it across the living room. “the fucking card is gone! she must’ve got it when we snuck upstairs yesterday.” you sighed, “that’s why she was in a rush to leave.” rafe paced back and forth, his head in his hands as he cursed to himself.

“i swear, when i see her-” as if on cue, the front door opened, the woman of the morning strolling in like nothing. “woah, y’all are up early..” sarah smiled, looking between you two before her eyes fell to your outfit.. or lack thereof. “is that rafe’s shirt?” her face morphed into one of suspicion. before you could answer her, rafe cut in. “yeah, it is. do you want to explain to me why the fuck our account is drained?” sarah kept her eyes on you, not acknowledging rafe in the slightest. “why are you wearing his shirt.. and what is that?” she looked past rafe towards the kitchen where you were making breakfast.

“i don’t believe this shit,” she scoffed, pushing rafe out of the way, “my brother, y/n, really?” she laughed. you felt your heart plummet, rafe stepping in once again. “you don’t have any right to tell her shit, you haven’t been very honest either.” rafe unlocked his phone, showing her the negative amount. “what the fuck are you up to? all these atm withdrawals, what are you even taking money out for?” now it was sarah’s turn for all the blood to drain from her face. “it’s none of your business,” she spat, “and you,” sarah walked around rafe, sizing you up as if she was going to do something.

“so, what, i don’t tell you about every little thing going on in my life, and you fuck my brother to spite me for it? that’s low..” she shook her head. you felt all your anger rising to the surface. “i don’t want to know every little detail of your life, just don’t be a selfish bitch and use me at your expense for your little adventures on the cut. lying to your dad so he won’t find out that you’ve been hanging out with pogues, and using your shared account to drain money from is even lower.” sarah stayed quiet, the expression on her face unreadable. “you’re the fakest friend there is.” she adjusted the backpack on her shoulder.

“if i’m the ‘fakest friend’ then what does that make you? you cancelled plans with me last minute, used me to cover for you multiple times, you even ditched our birthday tradition this year. not to mention the fact that you said i was ‘worse than topper’ because i asked you a valid question. i hadn’t seen you for three weeks before yesterday and you got mad because i asked if you were staying on the cut. you do realize that we haven’t been apart for longer than three days since we were five, right?” you were rambling at this point, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

“all i wanted was honesty, sarah. and yes, i fucked your brother, but not to spite you. not saying that, that excuses what i did, but i did that because he’s actually more amazing than you give him credit for. has it occured to you that while you’ve been running around the other side of the island he could’ve locked you out of the account and let you be out with no money in your pocket?” sarah ran her fingers through her hair, taking a seat at the kitchen island. “you don’t know him, y/n. the real him.” she looked over at rafe, her lips curling in disgust.

“you’re wrong and you know it,” sarah shot daggers at him. “fucking my best friend is crazy rafe, even for you. wait till i tell dad about this.” she smiled, taunting the both of you as you stood next to each other. “are you stupid? dad already loves y/n, and once i tell him that you put our account in the negatives because you’re withdrawing from atm’s on the other side of the island, you’ll see what he’s more concerned about. me being with y/n, or you giving up money to the pogues for whatever fucking reason.” rafe pulled you close to him, his hand resting on the small of your back.

“you really think he’ll believe you over me? especially with that little coke problem you had? good luck with that.” sarah opened her backpack, placing the card on the table. you couldn’t believe the words coming out of her mouth. you knew rafe had a substance issue in the past, you were around when he was getting help for that, and nothing about it was pretty. “how dare you?” you narrowed your eyes in her direction. “you’re not anyone to throw that in his face. you’re a cheater and a thief, but no one has told you that yet, right? your dad will believe rafe, because i have pictures on my phone of us that match up with the timing of those atm transactions. me and you aren’t friends anymore sarah.” you watched as she got up, making her way over to the front door.

just as you thought she was going to leave, she turned around, this time with tears in her eyes. “i don’t care, y/n, but you have to be the dumbest girl on earth if you think this weird thing y’all got will last. you’re nothing but another hook up to him. do you really think you’re the first girl to make breakfast for him?” she laughed, wiping at her damp cheeks. “don’t ever talk to me again.” she slammed the door, leaving you and rafe in silence. “don’t believe her, she just wants to make you feel bad.” he took your hand, placing a soft kiss on your knuckles. you nodded, the reality of what you did now setting in. you just unfriended sarah, and you didn’t feel bad about it.

“i’m sorry she brought up your past and used it against you.” you pulled him towards the couch as he rubbed circles into your palm. “she does that every time we get in an argument. it doesn’t phase me anymore.” he rolled his eyes. “will you really do that for me? vouch for me.” you nodded at his words. “of course i will, but i think i know a way where you don’t have to call your dad.” you took his phone. “call the bank and tell them the atm withdrawals weren’t yours and they’ll see it as suspicious activity on the card. they should refund you all the money back if you report the card missing.” rafe looked at you like you hung up the sun just for him.

“you’re the smartest girl i know.” he got up, walking to the next room to make the phone call. while he was doing that, you decided to finish up breakfast, surprised that you didn’t burn anything. quickly putting everything on a plate for him, you were pouring yourself a drink when he walked back into the kitchen. “they put all the money back on the card, we should be good now.” he walked past the plate, wrapping his arms around your waist. “that’s good,” you smiled, feeling his lips on your neck.

“you know, as much as this looks delicious, i prefer my breakfast in bed.” he picked you up, your laughs echoing throughout the house as he took you up to his room.

[yoonmetogether]

Not In the Cards Prelude pt. 1

pairing: gambler!Yoongi x !fem reader genre: strangers-to-lovers, age gap, intro to mafia/bodyguard au summary: how it all started. you won all of his money at poker, he hates you for it, but you find yourself hiding in a closet with him. (This is rlly e2l2e2l lol) warnings: alcohol, mild derogatory language, yoongi's an asshole, reader antagonizes him, motorcycle riding, gambling, smoking, drinking, smut, quickie in a janitor’s closet 🥴, insane bickering, usage of sl*t, yoongi and those red chopsticks from haegeum, a smidge of violence (not towards each other), implied parental absence, scars, reader mentions a minor injury from a car crash wc: 10.2k minors dni. 18+ only thanks to my beta reader @yoonglesyeobo and also to @syllviere for their help and support! <333

prologue l ch. 1 play nice l prelude. strangers 1/3 l prelude. 2/3 l prelude. 3/3 l ch. 2 l

You picked a great time to fly back home - smack dab in the middle of monsoon season. Of all the light things you packed in your backpack and duffle bag, you forgot an umbrella.

And the first thing you did once you set foot on the mainland soil of your Jeju pit stop, was ask your driver to take you to the Sehwa beach on the east coast. But the cash you had got you only about three-quarters of the way there, so you were dropped off into the one part of town you’re familiar with. Memories of happier times dance around the streets as you walk down them, on your way to the place you know best. Even though it will remind you of how things once were and never will be again, you go because it’s the only place you know where you can earn money without really having to work for it.

You’re soaked to the bone when you walk into the bar. The lights are low and dimmed with a green hue and floating smoke. It’s loud with banter as men get drunk on this gloomy Friday night.

You find an ATM near the bathrooms and withdraw 700,000 won.

“Hi, sweetie. Are you lost?” one of the pretty waitresses asks as she approaches you in a short apron and even shorter skirt, lips painted a vibrant ruby. Her silky bob is curled just above a black choker around her neck, and she glances down as you slide your wad of cash into your wallet, stuffing it in your jacket pocket.

“Uh, no. Can I get a drink and a seat please?”

She looks at you with apprehension laced in her polite expression. “There’s a much quieter bar a few blocks down the street. You might have a better time there.”

“I appreciate that, but I’m actually looking to win some money.”

“I see,” she says after a pause, giving you a onceover. “Are you old enough?”

Yeah, an illegal gambling ring probably wouldn’t want to get tacked on with another charge of hosting minors if the cops were ever smart enough to come snooping around a place like this. You pull out your ID and hand it to her, watching as she holds it up and you know just what she’s looking for because you’ve used a fake to get in here before.

The corner of her mouth lifts in a small smile as she passes it back to you. She turns around and beckons you forward with two fingers in the air, leading you through the bar, and as you trail behind her, nostalgia walks with you.

At the bar was where you took your first shot, had your first cigarette, in spite of your brother’s protests, and the den downstairs that you’re heading to was where you won your first real hand at poker. It’s still the same old musty, dusty, probably moldy basement that you remember, but now the ghosts of your past linger in the air so it’s hard to go through without getting a little misty-eyed.

As you step off the stairs, the waitress is surveying the room. It’s much more crowded and loud than upstairs since there are high stakes all around. You strain your neck, looking for an empty chair but they’re all occupied by men with too much time and not enough money to lose.

“Well, all of the tables are full right now, but I can set you up with a drink at the bar while you wait for an opening.”

“What about the table in the back?” Her eyes narrow.

“That’s for more experienced players.” Leaning against the railing, you hum, check your manicure.

“I’ll cut you twenty percent of my win if you get me in there.”

Her eyebrows lift in surprise. “You’re that confident?”

“This is where I learned how to play pro. I win more than I lose.”

She looks you up and down again, like she can’t figure you out.

“Make it twenty-five.”

“Deal,” you grin and she mirrors you, flashing her teeth.

“Follow me.”

You pull your damp hoodie further over your head in an attempt to shield your face as you follow her through the maze of tables towards a door in the far corner of the low-ceiling room. It’s slightly obscured by the counter and sheer, moth-eaten curtains that match the shitty wall color, and you thank the waitress when she pulls them to the side to direct you through. She then leads you into a small hallway but pauses right before the second door frame.

“I have to tell you, these men aren’t exactly their mothers’ favorite.”

You shrug. “Nothing I haven’t dealt with before.”

“Alright, well if you change your mind…”

“Thanks, but I won’t. I owe you that big tip.”

She smiles. “Don’t let me down, girlie.”

“Is there room for one more, gentlemen?” Her voice carries over the cocksure babble of the middle-aged men surrounding the round, green-felt table, littered with scattered poker chips, worn ashtrays and crystal glasses of whiskey. You’re met with a thick cloud of smoke as you approach an empty seat at the table. They all fall quiet as you pull down your hood, revealing your wet hair and the fact that you are not one of them.

A collective muttering of derision rises as you pull out the chair but you act completely unbothered, unzipping your drenched coat and shrugging it off. You fish your wallet out of your jacket and pass all of your cash to the attendant who exchanges it for chips.

“What do you know about poker?” one of the men prods.

"Plenty. Deal me in. What’s the ante?”

“I think you’re wasting your time,” another cuts in. “You should go see if they have a kiddie table.”

The men shove elbows into each other in raucous laughter at your expense but it doesn’t affect you at all.

“Let her play.”

You look up at the new voice. Gravelly. Gruff. Tempting.

Shit. How did you miss… him? The youngest man in the room, the one with parts of his face shadowed by the god-awful, dim lighting, has not taken his eyes off of you since you walked in. You can tell by the way the bumps on your skin prickle every time your attention flickers in his direction and your eyes catch. His hair is orangey, as much of it that pokes out from under his black beanie, and he’s wearing a black varsity jacket with white stitching on the front that makes him stand out among the rest of the men’s unflattering suits and loose ties.

He lifts his cigarette, takes a drag, and blows it out, blinking between you and two black poker chips he taps on the table.

You glare at the subtle smirk on his lips as he says, “Easy win.”

This will be fun.

The first few rounds you do get shit hands, but you bet on them anyway, enduring the condescension that leers from the entire table each time. The only one who doesn’t laugh is the one you can’t stop stealing glances at, the one who just nonchalantly smokes and places bets and looks at his cards, and occasionally stares right back. Makes your heart flip. You’ve noticed, though, from watching him a few times, that when the flop is laid out and it’s time for the first bets, if he blinks a little erratically while staring at his hand, he folds soon after. You fold on a two-pair after checking, and the players get a kick out of that when you reveal that you had a potentially winning hand. You pretend to be super bummed. But now you’ve got them right where you want them.

So far, you’ve bet the majority of your money but you’re fairly certain that won’t matter in a few minutes. In your hand, you hold an 8 and 2 of Diamonds. On the table, lies a ten of Spades, six of Clubs, 4 and Queen of Diamonds, and three of hearts. You school your expression. One more diamond card and it’s a flush. You look up and it seems the majority of the table has folded, but ‘kiddie table’ man and ‘beanie with a mean stare’ man are still in the running. Both of their hands have been good so far, but ‘beanie with a mean stare’ has won most of the rounds. This is the last one and you’re running out of time to win all of it back. You feign a nervous glance around the table before you check. ‘Kiddie’ checks as well and you wait for ‘mean beanie’ to follow suit but instead, he scoots the rest of his chips in to raise the bet. Huh. He’s getting cocky, going all in. He only blinked once when the dealer laid down the flop, so you suspect he has a good hand. But not a great one, so you’ll raise the stakes. The men mutter in amusement when you match his bet and he lifts a brow, but the rest of his expression remains neutral. The dealer asks if that’s the final bet, and when no one responds, he flips the fifth card. Your heart jumps. 

A nine of Diamonds.

‘Kiddie’ goes first and displays his three-of-a-kind. Hm. Not bad. You glance over to ‘mean beanie,’ waiting for him to make the next move but he only stares at you, unblinking, a thin line between his lips. You take a deep breath and put on a sheepish smile while flattening your cards near the center of the table so everyone can see.

“Is this a flush?” They all still, and you fail to fight off a grin when their many pairs of eyes go back and forth between the river and your two low rank cards that add up to a high rank hand.

‘Mean beanie’ is now staring at his cards, a noticeable tick in his jaw and you know you’ve won. He tosses them down with a quick flick of his wrist and you can’t help your smirk at his obvious dejection. You observe his 5 of Hearts and 7 of Spades.

“Oh, a straight? How nice.” Your head tilts mockingly. “You almost beat me.”

He frowns and you feel enthralled, resisting the urge to blow him a demeaning kiss. With a content sigh, you lean forward to scrape your scored chips towards you, holding your arms out like a hoop to move them all because there’s just that many. You stand as an attendant appears to retrieve your chips to count and trade for the table’s cash. You think you’ll get a nice hotel room to shelter from the storm.

“It was a pleasure playing with you gentlemen,” you say politely as you stand. “I’ll enjoy spending your money.”

The devilish grin you send to all of them lingers on ‘mean beanie’ who is now refusing to look at you. There’s a pep in your step as you stride up to the attendant behind the counter near the door, waiting for him to cash you out.

You watch as the men file out, glaring at you and muttering bitter curses amongst themselves. You shrug it off. Serves them right for underestimating you just because you’re a young woman. You may have been putting on an act, but men run the world.

Shouldn’t they have been smart enough to pick up on that?

‘Beanie’ is the last one to go, head ducked as he pulls out his phone. He’s still in the hallway when you exit, backpack stacked with 10 million won. His foot is on the bottom step as he types furiously on his device.

“Hey, good game,” you say in a light tone as you pass him, but there’s too much sass in your smile to seem genuine. “And you’re right. That was an easy win.”

He lifts his head slowly, eyes narrowed in a vicious glare, pockets his phone and takes a step up. It makes your heart speed when he comes nearly face to face with you, and you can see him in this mildly better lighting.

“How’d you pull that off, huh? You count cards?” He’s pretty much seething but fucking hell, he's attractive.

“No,” you blink innocently, living for the ferocity in his darkened eyes. “I just count on men to be dumb enough to believe a pretty girl like me doesn’t know how to gamble. Thanks for being so full of yourself that you can’t see through a sham like that.”

His jaw ticks as his glare rakes up and down your form.

“You’re full of yourself, too. You’re not that pretty.”

It’s a cheap shot, but it’s obvious he’s just trying to make himself feel better by hurting your feelings because he has nothing else.

“Aww, you sound like a sore loser. Do you want to go back in there? Try to win some back?”

“I’m done playing for the night.” He still hasn’t gotten out of your face and the scent of his earthy cologne with traces of cigarette smoke is doing unhealthy things to your blood pressure.

“Understandable. It would suck to get your ass beat by a girl twice in a row.”

He's radiating with vexation but it doesn’t intimidate you in the slightest. If anything, it’s making him more attractive, which makes you think you should do some deep, serious internal reflection. His nostrils flare just before he swivels on his heel to face the steps.

“Oh, by the way, I noticed that you blink a lot when you get a bad hand. You should work on that.”

His head jerks to you, seeming to take offense to that. He looks you up and down again, scowls, and starts up the stairs.

“Maybe with your money, I’ll buy some expensive makeup to doll myself up better!” You call up.

“You’d need a lot!” 

Fucking liar. You cackle as he jogs up the rest of the way.

******* Upstairs, he’s already out of sight. You relocate the waitress who greets you expectantly, an enthusiastic grin breaking out on her face when you pull out your winnings. She gives you a small cheer and while you sit at the bar to count out her cut, she makes you a drink on the house.

Once you finish it, you check the time and realize you shouldn’t hang around here for much longer. And you’re starting to feel the effects of jet lag now that you’ve got your money problems squared away. But of course you left your jacket downstairs. You ask the waitress if you can go get it.

“Sure, but come right back.”

In the hallway, you falter when you hear a one-sided conversation, spoken by that low stony voice that tickles your brain. You peek your nosy head around the corner, pulse spiking with a thrill when you see ‘beanie’ standing on the other side of the room, next to another hallway.

“The fuck do you mean it didn’t go through? 

As he listens on the other line, he hangs his head, fingers digging into his eyes in what appears to be frustration before dropping them on his hip.

“Shit, are you serious?... Can you just send me some for a plane ticket? I’ll pay you back...” He sighs dejectedly. “Fine. See you back home.”

He curses again, louder this time, and you take that as your cue to saunter into the room, pretending you don’t notice him as you head for the table.

“You stalking me?” You blow a raspberry, leaning down to grab your jacket from the chair and hold it up for him to see.

“As if. You’re not that interesting. And you’re a sore loser,” you tack on. “Not my type.”

(Straight up lies.)

“Well, you’re fucking annoying.”

“Thank you!” You exclaim, hand on your chest like you’re honored. “I’ve worked so hard to be.”

He glowers at you and you really want to laugh. Why is he so angry? It’s not like you stole his money. Tricked him? Maybe, but you can’t exactly be fair in a place like this. His head shakes as he passes by you for the exit.

“So I really won all of your money, huh? And now you’re strapped for cash?” He pauses, slides narrowed eyes your way, and stuffs his hands in his jacket.

“Mind your business.”

“What? It just sounds like you’re in a tough spot, especially with the big storm coming later. I’d hate to think that you’re stranded in torrential downpour with nowhere to go all because some mid-looking girl took your money.”

“Don’t patronize me,” he snaps.

“How is that patronizing? I’m just saying, I’m sorry you fell for my dirty little trick, but I can help you out if you want.”

He strides into your space and you step back, heart pounding when he gets in your face again. There’s a dangerous look in his eyes but you’re not at all threatened.

“I don’t need shit from you.” You tip your head up and bat your eyelashes, sneaking a glance at his lips, pink and plush and enticing. 

“Okay,” you shrug nonchalantly, failing to fight off a small smirk. Warmth creeps up from your cheeks to your ears when his blown out pupils flash down to your mouth. And the tension in between you transforms with a feral magnetism.

His tongue darts out to his bottom lip and your eyes widen a fraction at the sight.

“You’re really aggravating, you know that?”

“You can walk away.” His head tilts at your challenge and the magnetism grows when he doesn’t move.

Just then, your heads turn towards the stairs when voices and footsteps start to descend.

He grabs your arm and tugs you around the corner and to the end of the hallway, whipping open a small door and stepping inside before pulling you along with him. Your nose wrinkles at the odious smell of industrial cleaning agents.

“What are you doing?”

“Shut up,” he hisses, tugging you away from the door to the adjacent side of the small and dark closet. “No one’s supposed to be down here now that they’ve closed things up.”

“Oh,” you whisper, settling against the wall. “You don’t really strike me as the type to follow the rules.”

“I’m not,” he grits, voice deep enough to not be heard easily. “But I know that consequences still apply if I get caught.”

“Well, this isn’t how I expected to spend my Friday night,” you huff with a cross of your arms. “Holed up in some janitor’s closet with a common criminal.”

“You’re one too, y’know. You committed a felony just by stepping foot in here. And then another, when you won all that money.”

You mimic that last sentence in a childish tone and his chest heaves in a huff.

“Will you be quiet?”

“Am I pissing you off?”

“You have been since the first goddamn minute you walked in.”

“If I annoy you that much, you could’ve just hidden in here yourself and left me out there to get in trouble.”

“I still have time. I could push you out now.”

“Do it then.”

A silence follows, like he’s contemplating. Hesitating. That magnetism comes back to buzz and burn.

“Or maybe, and I’m just spitballing here, you wanted an excuse to get me alone in this dark, tight space?”

He scoffs. “You’re delusional.”

“Hm. Then why are you so close? There’s more than enough room for the both of us to have space.”

When he doesn’t say anything, unease pinches your gut as you think you’ve gotten ahead of yourself and misread things. You can’t help that his whole broody, pissed off vibe turns you on for some reason. So you move to get away from him, create some space now that you’re embarrassed but his hand finds the crook of your elbow and stops you. Heat floods your cheeks for a whole different reason.

“What are you trying to get at?” You smile, heart pounding with nerves because you know his rejection would sting like hell. But you’re not about to let his attitude shit on your confidence.

“C’mon, you’re not that dumb.” His fingers dig into your arm, not enough to hurt but enough to feel that you’ve pinched a nerve.

You gasp when he pushes your arm until your back hits the wall and you stare at the silhouette of his face, his hand lifting above your head. Blood rushes in your ears when he leans in so close that his warm breath fans down to your chin.

“You wanna be fucked in here like a slut? Is that it?”

Holy mother of fuck. The way he said that - husky, dark, low but so intense has to be a sin.

“Can you even get it up this late at night, old man?”

“Who the fuck are you calling old?” He snaps. “You’ve got to be at least 30.”

He better be joking! “What does that make you, then? 45? 50?” 

“Try 27.”

“Huh. You’re still a lot older than me.” You don’t find that hot.

“By how much?” he queries, a bit of apprehension in his tone.

“5 years.”

He exhales sharply, a breath of relief. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“Keep telling yourself that. Is almost 30 too early to have ‘dysfunctional’ problems?”

Large hands on your hips force you to turn around and face the wall, and you plant your palms on it with a gasp when he grinds his clothed erection on the swell of your ass.

“Does this feel ‘dysfunctional’ to you?” he growls, grinding against you again, slower this time but harsher so you can feel all of what’s swelling in his pants. He’s big, because of course he is, and you figure by the end of this, you’ll be the dysfunctional one.

“I-I don’t know,” you stutter, throat suddenly dry. He chuckles, and it’s like a jolt of thunder worthy of a hurricane storming through every seed of your nerves.

Sighing, he leans into you, chest barely brushing your back, and returns his hand to the wall above your head, ducking his chin to breathe down your neck and you gasp again as he rolls his hips once more while muttering darkly into your ear,

“Do you want to find out?” A shiver bolts down your spine, and your center starts to throb with sinful desire.

Getting fucked on a Friday night in a cleaning closet by a common criminal is definitely not something you expected to be doing on your trip back home. But you don’t want it to go in any other way.

“Mhmm.”

“Is that supposed to be a word?”

“Yes!” You whisper yell.

“Yes, what?” he emphasizes, tone gritty and dominating.

“Yes, I want to find out.”

Quiet passes for a minute and you think he’s in the middle of rethinking things, but then he manhandles you to the side of the closet opposite from the door, and you put out your hands to feel that you’re pressed into a set of shelves holding big ass rolls of paper towels or something.

He tugs at the hem of your pants. “Take these off.”

“Why can’t you do it?”

“Because I’m giving you a chance to change your mind,” he mutters.

Huh. You hesitate only because that was unexpected. But you weren’t planning on changing anything. Without a word, you undo the clasp on your jeans and reach back to find his hand, taking note of the insane electricity that surges through you once you touch him, and bring it back to your waist, silent permission that he can continue. Nothing is said as he slides your pants down your ass, and you wait for him to work on his own jeans but instead you feel his fingers trickle on the inside of your upper thigh, breath hitching as he inches closer to your heat. You spread your legs and arch your back to give him indication to touch you. He cups your mound, and you lurch forward with a moan, grabbing the shelf to hold onto for dear life.

“You better stay quiet,” he grumbles. “Because if you get us caught, I’ll tell them I found out you were counting cards.”

“And you were fucking me as punishment?” you challenge over your shoulder, but the vitriol in your sneer is extinguished when he glides a lone finger between your folds.

“Fuck,” he hisses. “You’re already wet. Being a dirty slut like this turns you on?”

You don’t answer, brain malfunctioning when he starts rubbing circles over your clit, and you duck your head as it increases your arousal. A whiny moan floats out when he teases your hole and hums to himself. Your shoulders tense when he slips a digit in, shushing your louder moan as he adds another and pumps in and out to work you open. You have to hold your breath every now and then to keep your noises to yourself.

As he keeps finger-fucking you, there’s some shifting and then a slap of something falling on the floor, followed by the sound of foil tearing.

“Did you just get a condom out of your wallet?” you manage to croak.

“No, I pulled it out of thin air,” he deadpans dryly.

You roll your eyes. Men. Always staying locked and fucking loaded. And he called you a slut? You open your mouth to convey this to him, but you figure one more smart-ass comment will deny you of what you’re craving.

You salivate when you hear him undo his belt and unzip his jeans. He steps back with a faint moan, and you imagine him finally pulling himself out to roll on the condom. Shit. You know you’re in for it.

His hand finds your waist again, and he spits, loudly, before tapping his tip on your center, gathering your arousal. Your body jerks at the sensation of his head dragging through your folds and over your clit before coming back to prod your entrance, making you tense up in anticipation.

“Are you going to back out? Last chance.”

“No, I’m good.” There’s a lapse in movement and in words but then he pushes in and- fuck! It’s a stretch. You moan over a bitten tongue as your eyes squeeze shut, urgently trying to adjust.

“We don’t have to do this if you’re not up for it,” he mutters quietly when your cunt refuses to cooperate, thanks to a mix of nerves.

"I am, damn it!”

“Then fucking relax.”

So you deflate your lungs, using the idea of just how good it’ll feel once he fills you up for motivation to do as he says. You let your body go almost entirely limp and he must notice because he digs his fingers into your waist and guides himself in, agonizingly slow, expanding your walls with girth so fulfilling.

A low growl resonates in his chest when he sinks in all the way, fingers flexing on your naked hips as he gives time for you to adjust. His hard dick twitching within tells you that he needs a second too. Then for a few minutes, he fucks you at a snail’s pace while you try not to lose your shit. He pulls out to bend his knees, and thrusts back up into you, breathing shakily as he increases the pace.

He doesn’t take his hands off of your waist. Doesn’t grope your tits, or cup handfuls of your ass, just holds onto your hips to keep you in place, occasionally uses them to adjust his stance behind you. A part of you wishes he would because you know his large hands could work wonders on your skin, but at the same time there’s a modicum of respect coming from his restraint. You don’t know if that’s what he’s going for or if he just genuinely doesn’t want to touch you - which, ouch - but you’re pretty sure most guys would take you letting them fuck you in a closet as automatic permission to touch all parts of your body whether you asked them to or not, but apparently he’s not one of them.

There is one place, though, that you desperately need him to put his hands on and for whatever reason, he’s not.

“Are you gonna play with my clit anytime soon? Or did you, in your old age, forget where it is?” He huffs, dark and indignant in your ear.

“It’d be nice to get off at some point ton-” A hand slides over your cheek and a pair of fingers gets shoved on your tongue, cutting you off.

“Shut. Your. Mouth.” Your eyes roll back at the rigid and domineering grit in his tone, and your back arches to press further into him, needy, wanting. His other hand rises to replace his fingers with a balled-up piece of fabric, and then he snakes down to in between your legs. You have to bite down on whatever fabric he used to muffle you when he easily finds your aching nub and spreads your saliva over it before stroking in agonizing circles. Your teeth clamp down harder on the mysterious material to barricade a whimper.

His hips, on the other hand, start to smack against your ass with animalistic determination, like he wants to fuck you as fast as he can so he can get this over with. Which is fine by you, because it feels so fucking good. The force of his thrusts paired with the tips of his fingers rubbing your clit in rough, calculated strokes has your nails scraping on the wall due to the overwhelming pleasure building within you.

He starts to fuck you at a different angle and you almost cry out when he spears against your spot.

“There?” he asks, rocking in the same place experimentally while you clench around him. Your thighs start to shake.

“Mhmm!” you exclaim. He doesn’t stop fucking you there until you come, and even though you already can’t see shit, you definitely black out for a second. The material in your mouth isn’t helping your breathing situation but it’s preventing you from crying.

He hisses and then yanks out, lets go of your waist, and you involuntarily drop to your knees.

“Shit, my fault,” he mutters, but you’re focused on plucking the cloth out of your mouth, scrunching it in your palm. You weakly pull your jeans to your hips and turn around when he curses again, reaching out to find his dick as he jerks himself to completion. He stops and rips off the condom, thumb sliding up your chin and into your mouth to force it open.

“Gonna come,” he grumbles. You nod and stick out your tongue, and using his thumb as guidance, he slides his thick mushroom head past your lips, filling your mouth with hot ropes of cum. He emits some kind of purring sound as you swallow it all down and your eyes roll to the back of your head.

After allowing a moment to accept what just happened, he steps back again and sighs heavily as he tucks himself in, fixing his belt while you wipe your mouth with the inside of your shirt. When he bends down to pick up his wallet, you wait for his hand to offer you help up off the floor, but he just turns around, leaving you to stand up on your own with shaky legs.

That’s not the vibe you were starting to get from him, but okay?

Swinging on your jacket with a bit of shame, you walk up behind him where he’s listening at the door for anyone outside, and realize that you just let this guy fuck you in a weird-smelling closet and come in your mouth before you even got his name.

“I’m Angel, by the way.”

“That’s nice," he says flatly, tone withdrawn.

“Did you flunk preschool? This would be the part where you tell me your name.”

“I'm good.” You scoff, taken aback. 

"Geez, dude. After all that, you can’t even tell me your name?”

"Nah. Not like we’re ever gonna see each other again, right?” That stings. He doesn’t have the courtesy to do something normal after doing something so unorthodox?

“Whatever, prick.”

When he opens the door, you toss the fabric at him and shove into his shoulder, not looking back as you hurry towards the stairs, taking two at a time to get away from him.

The waitress gives you a wary look as you stomp towards her, and you offer an embarrassed apology while you gather your bags. You thank her, pass her a few more bills, and make an escape to the bathroom. You refuse to look in the mirror as you get yourself together. What the fuck were you thinking?

But as the universe would have it, he’s outside under the awning because of the rain, scrolling through his phone and smoking a cigarette with a foot propped on the wall.

Without slowing down, you walk by him, pluck the cigarette from his fingers and continue down the block. At the corner, you stop abruptly, and lift the stick to your lips, take a drag, then toss it into the street, staring right at him. He frowns and with the hand not stuffed in his jean pocket, raises his middle finger and you shoot him one right back, blowing out smoke and holding back a cough. You flag down a cab with a heavy weight in your chest that crawls up to your throat and threatens to imitate the storm pouring from the clouds above.

The rain follows you into the crowded restaurant and you do your best to shake it off of your clothes and shoes before you go in. An older male server rushes by carrying a tray of soju and shot glasses, beckons you further inside and gestures over to the far end of the room where a small empty table sits in front of the window. As you weave your way towards it, you pass by groups of friends, some couples, others colleagues, all having a good time staying out of the storm together. It makes you a little bitter and a lot lonely.

You sit down with your back facing away from the reminder that you’re the only one occupying a two-person table and order a bottle of soju and a hot bowl of noodles that will take away some of the wet chill clinging to your skin.

As you wait, you lean back in your chair, arms crossed, and stare outside, reminiscing about old times. Old friends. All a part of memories now.

A motorcycle zooms by. The engine sounds like a single-cylinder with a good torque. A Ducati maybe?

A few minutes after the server delivers you a bottle of soju and you take a shot, you head to the bathroom to wash up and finally acknowledge the shame lingering in your appearance. When you emerge, passing by the bar, you’re stopped in your tracks by the face of the man who is the reason for that shame. Your heart pounds abnormally. He’s sitting a few barstools away from you, beanie gone, unveiling orange hair and roots that could use a touch up, with a black and white bandanna tied under his chin, like it was being used as a mask. Was that what he stuffed in your mouth earlier?

You stare at him as he sips some clear liquor out of a whiskey glass and when he finally notices, he, for some reason, doesn’t look that surprised to see you.

“You again,” you scowl. “Who’s stalking who now?” He shrugs.

“This is a small island.”

Your eyes roll at his shit logic.

“Well, sorry to have ruined your whole ‘we’re never gonna see each other again’ bullshit.”

He doesn't reply, just frowns into his glass. Feeling hot all over, you stew as you stomp back to your table to retrieve your wallet, fishing out a large bill that you slap on the counter once you return to the bar. The bartender comes over and you make a point of looking over at the prick while you say,

"His drinks are on me." You prolong your vengeful gaze on him, fighting your tongue when his jaw only clenches in response, and head back to your table in a huff.

You try to let it go and not sear holes through his back, instead focusing on your wonderful meal and full glass of soju. He can go to hell.

It seems that the universe has other plans in store when mid-bite, you feel a presence approach and you think it’s the server coming to check on you, but when you look up and the presence stops at your table, your heart skips at the musk that pummels your lungs and puts you in a chokehold. Because it’s the same one that enveloped you from behind not too long ago, strong enough to mask the stench of cleaning supplies. And the source of it slaps a familiar lone bill in front of you under a veiny, slender hand. He stares down at you with an unreadable look in his eyes. Glancing at the bill, you make no move to take it back or acknowledge the fact that he didn't let you pay, even though you just won a bunch of his money. What is this guy playing at?

"Take it."

"No," you shoot back, resuming your meal for an excuse not to look at him. 

He sighs and you think that's the end of it.

But then he scoots into the seat across from you. Your heart flatlines when he glances at you, barely acknowledging you or your shocked expression, and cards a hand through his hair, flipping his bangs away to showcase his forehead, clear of blemishes. Isn’t that fucking typical.

“Um, can I help you?”

“The kitchen’s closing soon and I want to order something,” he says casually as he gets comfortable.

“And you’re sitting at my table because? I thought I was annoying.”

“You are,” he replies, still not looking at you but at your bowl. “But all the other tables are full.”

You scoff and take a sweep of the restaurant, desperate to catch him in a lie - surely people have left and freed up spaces since you got here. Nope. The seat across from you was the only one empty. But why does he have to be the one who fills it?

“You could just go somewhere else.”

“It’s pouring out there.”

“Afraid you’ll melt?”

He flickers a small glare your way, then moves it behind you when the bell over the entrance announces a customer’s arrival. He’s acting indifferent, like he wasn’t just a complete dick, and you don’t know what to make of it.

“So does this mean you're done being an asshole to me now?”

“You think I should be nice or something?”

“That would be a start.”

“Aren’t you not supposed to be nice to strangers? Didn’t your mother ever teach you that?”

That draws a cloudy expression over your face. “I’m sure she would’ve if she was ever around.”

He looks at you and you can see a smidge of his hostile demeanor fall away. Your attention drops to your lap, waiting for him to give the little pity party you’re used to people throwing you when they find out you have an absentee parent. But he doesn’t, just shifts in his seat and lets a little tension out of his shoulders.

“Yoongi.”

Your eyebrows furrow as you look across again, thrown for a loop. “What?”

He shrugs, juts out his bottom lip in what you think is a pout. “You wanted my name, right?”

He looks shy and, dare you say, cute saying that. 

“Was that so hard? You know that makes us not strangers anymore,” you point out with a widening smile as he glowers at you.

You reach for the soju bottle but he leans forward and snatches it away. Puzzled, you withdraw your hand, but he gestures to your glass and mimes a pour. There’s uncertainty stitched between your brows as you pick up the glass and hold it out with two hands while he pours a shot. You can’t help but notice the scar etched in a jagged line across the back of his right hand turning the bottle, and you look away from it so you don’t gawk. But you’re curious.

Even though you don’t yet fully respect him, he is still 5 years older, so you turn to the side to knock the shot back. When you’re done, you silently offer to return the favor but he shakes his head, fills your glass once again and sets the bottle down, leaning back in his chair with his arms folded across his chest, glancing between you and the table with a dart of his tongue over his bottom lip.

You stare at the liquor, tips of your fingers dancing around the rim of the glass as you debate how much of your sobriety you should hold onto for the night.

“You’re not drinking?” you ask after you down the shot, wiping your chin.

“I’m driving.”

“What were you drinking over there?”

“Water.” You hum in acknowledgement.

“Are you gonna eat?”

He shakes his head. “I’m good.”

“I thought that was the whole point of sitting at my table.”

“I changed my mind.” Liar. He’s been eyeing your bowl ever since he sat down.

“You’re a shit liar. No wonder I cleaned you out.”

He flips you off and you just sigh. A lost cause. You catch the scar on the back of his hand again, the skin raised but healed.

The atmosphere between you since his gesture has slowed things down, setting a new pace that’s strange but not entirely unwelcome. The liquor spreading warmth in your chest loosens your inhibitions, bringing forth your curiosity.

"What happened to your hand?”

"Bar fight,” he replies a little too quickly. You don't believe that.

"Some bar fight." He rolls his eyes at your sarcasm but then his attention flickers back with a tick of his eyebrows when you lower the collar of your sweater, exposing the skin just below your right shoulder that displays your own gash.

“I got this when I used to race during my first year at university.” You smirk when both his brows shoot up. “I was drifting and my component spun out and drove me off the road and I smashed into a guardrail. He was fine, but my windshield shattered and a big piece of glass just wedged in right here.” You press a finger against the very visible healed stitching. “It hurt like a motherfucker, dug into my bone and all that, but the scar came out pretty bad ass, don’t you think?”

He tilts his head with an amused expression, as if not expecting you to sound somewhat proud of your preventable injury.

“I’m sure you were smart enough to stop racing after that.”

“Yeah, but I still went to functions and stuff. And then one night, cops busted our spot and a bunch of us got arrested. I spent a couple days in jail and my brother had to come bail me out.” You pause to think about how irate Jin had been, flying halfway across the world to pay your bond, dragging Namjoon along to fight for you not to be charged. Jin chewed you out the entire time, about how dangerous that was and how you could’ve killed somebody and yourself. Of course you knew that, but you’ve always proved to be a damn good driver, only racing on empty roads after memorizing every wind, bump, and bend. You never let him see your scar because he would find a way to never let you see the light of day again. But then he made you transfer schools and you lost touch with your racing friends. You made sure your brothers never found out your accident didn't deter you from speed racing. You were just too good and made money off of it that you couldn't give up.

“And what was that you were saying earlier about being stuck alone somewhere with a felon?” He muses sarcastically, snapping you back to the present.

Glossing over that snide remark, you launch into another anecdote, regaling him in the story of the first time you ever raced when you lost horribly to your brother and he never let you live it down. And the time you were the getaway driver when your brother and your friends decided to add to the graffiti collection under a bridge near boarding school.

“I think you’re oversharing,” he intervenes when you bring your spiel to a close.

“Would you rather sit here and talk about the weather?”

“I’d rather not talk at all.” He looks down as soon as he says it and your eyes droop into a frown. Well, so much for that. Leave it to a guy to pull stupid shit like that.

“Right,” you mutter, leaning down to pick up your bags. “All I’m good for is a fuck.”

You get out your wallet and a large chunk of the cash that you won, leaving a sum for the bill on the table. As you rise, you fold a larger wad in half and slam it down next to his hands. He glances at it before dragging his gaze up to you, blinking a few times as you harshly stare him down. You sniff, swing your bag onto your shoulder, and turn your back on him.

“Stop.” You do and turn, slowly. “I know I’m an asshole, but I wasn’t implying that, okay?”

Blinking at his response, you step up to his edge of the table. You tilt your head, waiting for him to elaborate but when he doesn’t, a mildly disappointed sigh leaves your lungs.

“If that’s your idea of an apology…” He stares up as you hold him in suspense. “Then I’ll take what I can get.”

The tiny quirk of his lips has you plopping back in your seat, albeit a bit reluctant. As you set your bag back down, he slides the cash back over.

“Well, I’m not taking your money.” You frown.

“Then, at least order something to eat, I don’t mind treating. Unless you have that weird masculine thing where it’s offensive if a girl pays for food.”

A light smile threatens to break out on his face and you think it could be the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

“Nah, I’m never one to turn down a free meal.”

He finally orders and you try not to watch him eat, finding it endearing the way he rests his fingers holding chopsticks against his cheek while he chews. So you just return to quietly sipping your drink and watching the rain beat down on the pavement, illuminated by the street lamps. Occasionally, bumps rise on your skin like they did earlier when you feel his eyes on you. You just let him stare because it makes you feel warm.

The bowl slides to the middle of the table and Yoongi sits back with a satisfied sigh. You look over and smile, getting ready to tease him about his appetite but then the bell rings and his expression drops completely. He straightens in his seat, pulls the bandanna up over the lower half of his face and a dreadful feeling sinks into your gut when he grabs the chopsticks and holds them with a tight grip, veins popping and knuckles paling. You look over your shoulder, blood stirring with anxiety when you see a few men from the poker game heading straight for your table.

“Get your bag,” Yoongi mutters, shifting so his feet are turned to the side. Swallowing thickly, you bring up your backpack and wrap your arms across it, pressing it into your chest.

“So you decided to catch up to her before us. Well done, my friend,” the man says, clapping Yoongi on the shoulder. A cold front moves in on the tips of your fingers, settles a tundra in your gut and freezes you in your seat when Yoongi doesn’t look at you, just stares at the man above him.

Was this all just a ruse? He was just keeping you here so his friends could come and mug you? You’re not that naive.

Right?

Just when you start to doubt all of your life choices, Yoongi smacks off the man’s hand, leans forward with his eyebrows furrowed at you.

“I’m not with them.” Your heart races as you look between them. For once, you feel backed into a corner.

“Yes, you are, pretty boy. Because if you’re not, then it seems to me that you both plotted to set us up and that means you’re both in trouble.”

“No one plotted anything. I’ve never met him before,” you declare, catching onto their lie, washed over with relief that you haven’t been duped.

“You just underestimated me and that’s not my fault.”

The man looks at you with an ugly lip curl.

“Oh, yes it is. You never should’ve been there in the first place, so hand me and my friends back our money and this all goes away. No one gets hurt.”

Yoongi’s jaw moves like he’s grinding his teeth. “That’s not what I heard,” he mutters.

Your clutch anxiously onto the sides of your backpack, not wanting to know what he means. You slowly reach under your chair to grab onto your duffle, ready to run at a moment’s notice.

The stranger bends down to lean towards you. “Give me the money. Now.”

“Get out of her face, man,” Yoongi spits, standing with a hand on his shoulder to push him back. You stand as well, holding tightly onto both of your bags as you look back at the door, but for all you know, there are more men out there waiting.

You jump when the man attempts to snatch your bag but promptly withdraws with a shout in pain, and you don’t expect to see Yoongi piercing his shoulder with the chopsticks. As your heart and mind race, he yanks the utensils with added red out, keeps them in his fist, and shoves back the two men who crowd him, sending them into the tables behind. Dishes crash and customers leap up in exclamations of surprise, and Yoongi takes the opportunity to push you away and get behind you, hand flattened on your spine to compel you in the direction of the kitchen.

He seizes your duffle bag so you have an easier time moving, and you both ignore the protesting shouts from the chefs and servers as you run through the hot kitchen. As you stumble outside, the rain cascades over you, and your heart stops for a moment when you realize you have no plan to escape. But then he wraps his free hand around your forearm, glancing up as more shouts echo from the restaurant. He pulls down the bandana. His face looks radiant in the blurred street lights.

“This way.”

You both take off down the block, and in the midst of the sprint, Yoongi slides down his hand to instead curl his fingers around your wrist and leads you across the street. It’s not the rain that makes you shiver.

The scent of the storm washes over you as your feet hit asphalt, a few honks blasting from cars you dart past. Yoongi puts himself between you and the vehicles that shout profanities at him and you can’t help the laugh that escapes you when he shouts right back and throws up a middle finger. You slide your hand into his palm to give him a good tug so he won’t end up in another squabble with an irate driver and he turns back to you. For some reason you’re smiling and when he looks at you, your heart pounds, but it could easily be mistaken for exertion. But when you spot the crinkle at the corners of his eyes that tells you he’s smiling too and your pulse skips a beat, you know it has nothing to do with running.

You have no idea where he’s taking you and it’s freeing. And nothing like you’ve ever felt before.

You run until you reach the end of the block where a black Ducati motorcycle is parallel parked in between a stretch of cars and he picks up a matte black helmet from the seat and holds it out to you.

“Here, put this on. Hurry up.” The fiberglass is covered in droplets of rain. It means safety, but from this man who gave it to you? Who keeps confusing you?

A dilemma.

“Why did you come after me?”

“What?” he half-shouts over the loud pattering of downpour. “We don’t have time-”

You step up to stand face-to-face with him and he blinks confusion down at you, mouth open as his chest heaves, panting, orange hair darkened and drenched. You glance down at the chopsticks still trembling in his hand. Adrenaline. He snaps them in half and throws them into the street where they get carried into the storm drain.

It’s raining, but there’s a fire. You repeat your question, keeping the helmet down at your side so there’s not more than an inch between you. He holds your gaze - doesn’t blink or look away. Darkness surrounds you, but there’s none in his eyes.

“I just did.”

He gives no reason, so neither do you when you bunch the front of his soaked black crew-neck and yank him into you, into a kiss that will be seared into your mind like a core memory. He doesn’t lean into it for a split second, like you caught him off guard, but when he does, grabs the side of your face to take over and opens your mouth with his tongue like he’s always meant to taste you, it’s messy and desperate, teeth clacking and mouths moving uncoordinated. It’s the hungriest you’ve ever been kissed. Drinking in the rain, drinking in each other, the helmet slips from your fingers and you don’t notice for a second until he breaks away from your swollen lips and holds it up to you.

“We gotta go.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, regret taking over. He shakes his head and places the helmet into your hands. You frantically look over your shoulder where a few men are catching up, pointing their fingers and shouting as they spot you.

“Come on,” he urges and you slip on the helmet, facing back to see him swinging his leg over the bike and starting up the engine. He sits with your duffle slung around his neck in front of him, chin on his shoulder as he glances back just as you slide behind him.

“Hold tight.” He barely gives you enough time to circle your arms around his waist before he kicks off the curb. The bike roars to life and he speeds it away from the pavement, taking off down the street and into the night. Full of possibilities. You rest your head between his shoulder blades, unable to see the way his fingers tighten around the handle bars. Staring off to the side, you watch the night go by, road illuminated by street lights filtered through the rain, and your heart hammers at the adventure of it all.

The engine still purrs when it comes to a stop, now far enough away from danger. The rain has reduced to a drizzle and your heartbeat thunders within the fiberglass. You flip up the visor so he can hear you marvel,

“You stabbed him.” For you. He stabbed a man for you. And you think that’s why you kissed him.

“I know.”

“That was fucking metal.” His chuckle travels through his chest, so you can feel it in your own.

“I’m glad you think so.” ******* “So, where you headed?” he asks once he comes to the next stoplight. The smell of salt wafts in the air, tell tale sign of the beach.

“My hotel.” “Do you know the directions? I’m not google maps.”

You laugh against his back and tighten your hold around him. His muscles tense up beneath you. At this point, you think you’d let him take you anywhere, but you’re feeling bad about the kiss.

“You don’t have to take me all the way there. Just drop me off at a bus stop, it’s around here somewhere.”

“Buses don’t run this late.” You know for a fact that they do, but you don’t want to dispute him. Especially if it means you can hold onto him like this for just a little longer. Damn. You hated him just a little bit ago. Crazy how fast things can change in the blink of an eye.

“I’ll take a cab then.”

A rev of the engine fills a pause. “It’s late.”

“What?” He clears his throat, talks over his shoulder.

“I said it’s late. And it’s raining. I’ll just drop you off.” A spread of heat in your chest makes this chilly night a bit bearable.

“I thought you’d be itching to get away from me.”

“Yeah, you’d think,” he mutters, hanging his head, sounding dismayed. Or bitter.

“What’s the catch?”

“No catch. Trust me.”

“You just want gas money, huh?” He huffs and tosses his head back, strings of wet hair allowing you a glimpse of his undercut.

“Just give me the damn directions.”

******* All too soon, the venture comes to an end when he pulls into the lot of the beachfront hotel. Quietly, he parks and shuts off the engine and it takes you a second to come down from your rush and realize you’re still holding onto him when there’s no reason to anymore. You snap yourself out of your daze of wishful thinking that this night will never end and remove your arms, immediately missing his warmth and touch. A little too quickly you move off of the seat and he straightens as you stand, removing the helmet and you miss the way he watches you shake out your hair. When you meet his gaze, your heart starts racing again, butterflies multiplying beneath your diaphragm as he stares at you for a moment before glancing down to the helmet you hold out to him. He accepts it with a subtle nod and rests it in his lap while you internally panic, trying to find something not stupid to say so this whole ordeal with him doesn’t end.

“Well, thank you. I half-expected you to ditch me on the side of the road and ride off with my money.”

He leans forward with a soft snort, resting his wrists on the center of the bars, and your heart starts to do gymnastics at the notion that he finds you amusing because it gives you hope that he’s interested enough to not leave yet.

“I’m not that much of an asshole.”

“No, but you’re pretty close.”

“And yet you got on my motorcycle.”

“You told me to trust you and I do.”

“You just said you expected me to ditch you and take your money.”

“Half-expected,” you emphasize. “There’s always room for doubt.”

Just the corner of his mouth quirks up in a smile and you don’t want to see it leave.

“Speaking of room, do you have a place to stay?”

“Not around here,” he shakes his head, leaning back to stuff his hands in his jacket pockets. “But I have a friend across town who’ll let me crash, so I should probably get going.”

Tonight, with this man, has been an entire amusement park of emotions. From obscene attraction, to utter loathing, to being enlivened and now to just being plain disappointed. You don’t want to get off this ride just yet.

You squat down and drop your bag to the ground, digging into the front pocket for a pen and notepad. After you find one and rip out a page, you straighten and stride up to the bike without looking at him, writing down the number of your room. You fold it up once you’re done, passing it over, and watch him hesitate before accepting it.

“In case you change your mind,” you say, pointing at the page with your pen as you cap it. “Or if your friend doesn’t want a felon crashing on their couch.”

“And you wouldn’t mind a felon crashing with you?”

“I let a felon fuck me in a goddamn closet. What do you think?”

He holds your stare for a moment before a subtle smile breaks on his otherwise unreadable expression.

“Well, that’s good to know,” he says, shaking his head, and looks at the note for a second longer, then stuffs it in his jacket.

You sense an impending ‘but.’

“But-” You hate being right. “I think I’ll be okay. You should head inside, it’s starting to rain again.”

Not knowing what else to do besides stare at the ground and contemplate if you should write down your number too, you awkwardly hold out your hand, and then upon realizing how weird that is, quickly change your mind and retract it. Embarrassment flooding your cheeks, you reach down to snatch up your bag and turn around. You don’t wave, don’t say anything because what else is there to do? You don’t want to say it was nice to meet him because you’re still trying to figure out if it was, nor do you want to say ‘see you’ because you’re not sure if you ever will after this. 

You don’t look back, and as you head towards the main entrance where you can pick up your room key, the sound of the motorcycle revving into gear echoes around you and it’s only when it disappears in the distance do you turn around, wishing you weren’t watching him go. More like you were still on the back.

.

.

.

thanks for reading!! let me know what you think! i love to yap!!

xxx - claret p.s. i wrote the poker scene after watching a ten-minute wiki-how video on how to play texas hold 'em lmao

<<<previous chapter * next chapter>>>

taglist: @rinkud @taegijns @viankiss @polarnightmyg @futuristicenemychaos

@busanbby-jjk @lixies-favorite-cookie

[slydiddledeedee]

Fees really are the worst, huh? An extra charge that you weren't counting on. Fees can be annoying at best and predatory at worst, and Mahmoud @ma7moudgaza2 is dealing with some of the worst of them. Not only is he suffering through a genocide, the oncoming winter, classes and exams, and skyrocketing prices for basics such as food and water, but he also has to pay a 30% withdrawal tax on the money sent to him. To frame that, when $25,000 is raised, he will lose over $7,000 in fees alone.

Please continue to support Mahmoud and his family! As of posting this, we have 945 donors. Can we hit 1,000 by the time this poll concludes? Even if you can only donate $5, that amount donated en masse adds up very quickly. Please help Mahmoud reach his goal as winter approaches!

https://gofund.me/9d6fdc02

$18,842/$20,000

@appsa @tsaricides @schoolhater @buttercupparry @el-shab-hussein @wherethatoldtraingoes2 @nabulsi @sayruq @sar-soor @tiredguyswag @gothhabiba @kingskrazzyart @a-shade-of-blue

[themultifandomgal]

Jay Halstead- Work Husband Pt2

Jay and I end the day at Mollys having a drink with Burgess, Atwater and Erin

"Atwater is the cheapest" Kim says laughing

"Oh really?" I place a beer in front of Jay and Erin then sit down

"I mean, the cheapest guy you will ever meet. We drove... wait for it, we drove around for a half hour yesterday looking for an ATM that wouldn't charge him a withdrawal fee"

"There's a two-drink minimum. So start knocking 'em back. All right, men" Atwater tells us as he's set up this business proposal

"Okay, then I want mine in that cup" Erin points to Atwater

"Next time"

"So you used to be a flight attendant" I wiggle my brows at Burgess "ever attend the mile high club?" I chuckle

"No and it was just while I was waiting to get into the police academy. How about you guys? well I know about you YN"

"I was in the military"

"Huh. You" Burgess nods towards Erin

"Just kicked around nothing glamorous"

"Hey YN" I turn around to see Kelly and Leslie walking towards me "we're heading off, you want a lift?" Severide asks

"Errm yeah, I've had one to many to drive" I start to get up from my seat when a hand is placed on my shoulder

"No stay for a bit. I'll drop her off"

"You sure?" I ask Jay

"Yeah, it's fine"

"Ok. I guess see you at home" Shay smiles and I wave off my two roommates then look back to the others

"It's getting late. Think I'm gonna head out" Burgess gets up from her seat, grabbing her jacket

"I'll get us all another drink" Erin says getting up. I watch Jay's eyes linger on her as she walks to the bar

"Has Jay got a little crush?" I nudge Jay chuckling

"What?" he looks back at me with shock "what no. And anyway when I joined this team I was told to keep it in my pants" this makes me laugh

"Voight just wants us all focused and anyway you didn't answer my question" I give Jay a smirk

"Erins a good looking girl yeah, but no I haven't as you say got a crush"

"Hmmm" I hum as Erin comes back placing another beer in front of each of us and then takes burgess's seat while I continue to sit next to Jay

"Jay, has YN let you drive the car yet?"

"No" he huffs crossing his arms

"Told me today he felt like a house husband" this makes Erin chuckle

"Don't worry Jay, it took me 3 years to get YN to let me drive when we were partners"

"3 years!" Jay practically yells

"I just like being in control of the car" I shrug.

Jay drops be off at the end of the evening

"Thanks for driving me back"

"No problem"

"You didn't need to come to the door with me"

I laugh as Jay leans against the wall

"It's late anything could happen"

"Even though the car is literally there" I point to Jays car which is barley 10ft away

"Can never be to carful" Jay shrugs

"Well thank you" I give him a smile when the door opens revealing Kelly

"Thanks Halstead" Jay just nods his head

"See you tomorrow" I tell Jay then head into the house. Kelly shuts the door behind us

"So you and Jay"

"What about us?" I ask frowning

"Well you've been out with him all night"

"Nothings going on. We work together that's all"

[drakey-wakey]

i think it should be criminal actually how they are able to take money out of your account in seconds but in order to reverse the transaction and return it it takes well over 2 weeks i am a Little Pissed rn

bro having to call MULTIPLE phone lines today for Bank Issues and wanting to kill myself

[beardedmrbean]

TD Bank is the 10th-largest bank in the country – but for a while was the No. 1 choice for criminal organizations laundering drug money, according to federal prosecutors.

The bank's $3 billion plea deal shocked the finance world but prompted a U.S. senator to slam the Justice Department for "absurd legal gymnastics" that she says were too soft on executives.

For years, the bank prioritized growing its profits without investing in mandatory precautions to prevent cartels and other organized crime groups from using its systems to launder money, allowing crooks to shuffle $671 million in secretive transfers that should have been flagged and reported to authorities – sometimes with the help of corrupt bank employees, according to the plea agreement. 

"By making its services convenient for criminals, TD Bank became one," Attorney General Merrick Garland told reporters in October, announcing the bank's guilty plea. 

CHINESE MONEY LAUNDERING CRIMINALS TEAM UP WITH MEXICAN CARTELS TO MENACE US, OFFICIALS WARN CONGRESS

"TD Bank also became the largest bank in U.S. history to plead guilty to Bank Secrecy Act program failures, and the first U.S. bank in history to plead guilty to conspiracy to commit money laundering," he added. "TD Bank chose profits over compliance with the law – a decision that is now costing the bank billions of dollars in penalties."

At the time, he said the investigation was ongoing and warned that more charges could be coming.

An admitted international money launderer in another case, Da Ying Sze, a 45-year-old from New York, bribed bank employees with almost $60,000 in gift cards. He pleaded guilty in his own case to a conspiracy that laundered $653 million on behalf of criminals in the U.S., China and Hong Kong.

Some of it was drug money. And $470 million went through TD Bank, according to federal prosecutors. 

For almost a decade – between January 2014 and October 2023 – the bank failed to comply with mandatory anti-money laundering regulations that required it to flag suspicious transactions, according to court documents. Instead of updating their system to keep up with emerging technology, bank officials saved money by leaving an outdated anti-money laundering program in place.

The anti-money laundering program was known to executives and so ineffective that employees joked about it, according to federal prosecutors. 

"These failures enabled, among other things, three money laundering networks to launder over $600 million in criminal proceeds through the Bank between 2019 and 2023," federal prosecutors wrote in court documents. "These failures also created vulnerabilities that allowed five Bank store employees to open and maintain accounts for one of the money laundering networks."

OPINION: CHINESE ILLEGAL BORDER CROSSINGS SPIKE BY 7,000%. ONLY CHINA KNOWS WHY

Those five corrupt employees helped criminal organizations launder $39 million to Colombia through nearly 200,000 ATM withdrawals. 

Even with the massive corporate fine and an "asset cap" that places a tight restriction on the bank, Sen. Elizabeth Warren, D-Mass., blasted the Justice Department for "legal gymnastics" that let top executives off the hook. 

"The way that DOJ structured the plea agreement ensures that TD Bank will not face the full range of penalties that Congress has enacted for banks that engage in criminal money laundering," she wrote in a public letter to Garland.

"These shocking failures enabled three separate money laundering syndicates to launder more than $670 million through the bank between 2019 and 2023," she continued. "The magnitude of the dollar value of these illicit transactions is dwarfed only by the obviousness of the criminal activity."

In all, criminal organizations laundered more than $670 million, according to authorities, and the total fines were set at $3 billion.

Without consequences for the executives, she argued, banks can just write off billion-dollar government fines as a business expense in the future.

The bank did not immediately respond to requests for comment.

The bank's CEO, Bharat Masrani, told The Associated Press that steps were being taken to fix the deficiency and end the corruption after the bank pleaded guilty last month.

"We know what the issues are, we are fixing them," he said. "As we move forward, we’re ensuring that this never happens again, and I’m 100% confident that we get to the other side and emerge even stronger."

To address the money laundering problem, the bank says it began a multi-year security boost that included hiring dozens of new leaders and hundreds of experts on money laundering prevention and fighting financial crime.

[theladyofbloodshed]

banks are so weird to me here because: - if i have cash, i have to pay to put it in my bank account - if i withdraw money and it's not from that specific bank's atm then i also get charged

i miss the uk sometimes because we have a little machine in the bank which will count my cash and put it in my account for free and i can withdraw from any bank's atm with no fees whatsoever

[dealsworldsblog]

Multi-Currency Account, International Money Transfers & Credit Cards

Secure, affordable, and fast international transactions, along with a multi-currency account management solution.

The multi-currency account allows users to:

🔹 Hold money in over 50 currencies

🔹 Get local bank details (IBAN, sort code, routing number) for the USA, UK, EU, Australia, and many other regions

🔹 Convert currencies at the real mid-market rate (with no hidden fees)

🔹 Make international payments and avoid high bank charges

💸 Fast and cost-effective international transfers

🔹 Send money to over 160 countries

🔹 Use the real exchange rate (mid-market rate) with no hidden fees

🔹 Transfer money directly to bank accounts or digital wallets

🔹 Often much cheaper than traditional banks and services like PayPal

💳 Multi-Currency VISA/Mastercard

🔹 Accepted worldwide for payments and cash withdrawals

🔹 Automatic currency conversion at the best exchange rate, with no extra costs

🔹 Contactless payments and integration with Apple Pay/Google Pay

🔹 Low ATM withdrawal fees up to a certain limit

📌 Ideal for:

✔ Freelancers, digital nomads, and entrepreneurs who receive or send money in multiple currencies

✔ People who work online, travel frequently, or run an international business

✔ Anyone looking for a transparent and cost-effective alternative to traditional banks

🔗 Learn more https://is.gd/noborders

https://is.gd/noborders

[banglakhobor]

আবার বাড়ল এটিএম চার্জ ! এবার থেকে কত দিতে হবে আপানাকে ?

Bank News: বদলে গিয়েছে দেশের ব্যাঙ্কিং ব্যবস্থা। আজকাল যেকোনও ব্যাঙ্কে অ্যাকাউন্ট খোলার পাশাপাশি গ্রাহকদের নেট ব্যাঙ্কিং (Net Banking) এবং ডেবিট অর্থাৎ এটিএম কার্ড (Debit Card) পাওয়া সাধারণ ব্যাপার৷ আজকাল নগদ তোলার জন্য ব্যাঙ্কে যাওয়ার পরিবর্তে এটিএম (ATM Charges) থেকে টাকা তুলতে পছন্দ করে। অ্যাকাউন্টহোল্ডাররা যে কোনও ব্যাঙ্কের এটিএম থেকে নগদ টাকা তুলতে পারেন। তবে মনে রাখবেন, সেই ক্ষেত্রেও…

[unpluggedfinancial]

Your Bank Hates You—Here’s Why Bitcoin Doesn’t

Banks have spent centuries perfecting the art of making money off their customers while keeping them financially dependent. They wrap themselves in an image of trust and stability, but the truth is simple: banks exist to extract as much profit as possible from you while giving as little as possible in return. And most people never question it.

Bitcoin, on the other hand, doesn’t need you to trust it. It operates on pure mathematics, transparency, and a fixed supply that no institution can manipulate. It’s time to pull back the curtain on the traditional banking system and understand why Bitcoin flips the script.

The Big Lie: Your Money Isn’t Really Yours

When you deposit money in a bank, you assume it’s still your money. In reality, the moment it enters their system, it becomes theirs. You are nothing more than an unsecured creditor—your money is a liability on their books, and they can use it however they see fit. They lend it out, invest it in risky ventures, and rake in billions in profits, all while giving you a pathetic fraction of a percent in interest.

And if you ever try to withdraw a large sum? Suddenly, the bank wants to ask questions. Where did you get this money? Why do you need it? They may even limit how much you can take out at once. It’s not about security—it’s about control.

The Racket: How Fractional Reserve Banking Works

One of the biggest scams ever legalized is fractional reserve banking. This system allows banks to hold only a small fraction of customer deposits while lending out the rest. In the U.S., banks used to be required to keep about 10% in reserve. Today? That requirement is zero. They can lend out nearly all of your deposited money, creating money out of thin air.

This system fuels inflation, artificially expands credit, and increases systemic risk. And guess who pays the price when it collapses? Not the banks—they get bailed out. You, the customer, are left with devalued savings, rising costs, and financial instability.

Bitcoin doesn’t play that game. There is no fractional reserve system. You own what you hold, and no one can lend it out behind your back.

The Bank Fees & Interest Rate Scam

Banks are masters of the nickel-and-dime game:

Overdraft fees punish you for not having money by taking more of your money.

Loan interest rates skyrocket while banks borrow from the Federal Reserve at near-zero rates.

ATM fees charge you for accessing your own money.

Wire transfer fees? A tax on moving your money, even though the process is mostly automated.

Meanwhile, inflation erodes your savings, and banks laugh all the way to... well, the bank.

Bitcoin? No middlemen. No arbitrary fees. No interest rates designed to squeeze you dry. Just peer-to-peer transactions, secured by a decentralized network.

Enter Bitcoin: Opting Out of the Madness

Bitcoin offers something revolutionary:

A fixed supply of 21 million coins—no central bank can print more.

Self-custody—you hold your own money, no permissions needed.

Instant transactions with minimal fees, no matter where you are in the world.

A global, decentralized network that no government or institution can manipulate.

Unlike banks, Bitcoin doesn’t require you to trust it. You can verify every transaction, every supply issuance, every rule of the system. There are no hidden fees, no fine print, no “policy changes” that suddenly take away your access.

The Transparency Factor: Bitcoin vs. Banks

Banks operate in secrecy. They loan out your deposits, make high-risk bets, and when things go wrong, they change the rules or beg for a bailout. The 2008 financial crisis showed us exactly how fragile and corrupt the system really is.

Bitcoin, on the other hand, runs on a public ledger. Every transaction is verifiable. No insider deals, no backroom manipulations, no hidden schemes. You don’t have to take anyone’s word for it—the system is open-source, and anyone can audit it.

The Takeaway: Banks Need You, But You Don’t Need Banks

The traditional banking system thrives on ignorance. It wants you to remain dependent, obedient, and financially illiterate. But Bitcoin offers a way out.

With Bitcoin, you are your own bank. You decide when and how to access your wealth. You don’t need permission, you don’t need intermediaries, and you certainly don’t need to beg for access to what’s already yours.

Your bank hopes you never wake up to this reality.

Bitcoin is the wake-up call.

Tick tock, next block.

Take Action Towards Financial Independence

If this article has sparked your interest in the transformative potential of Bitcoin, there’s so much more to explore! Dive deeper into the world of financial independence and revolutionize your understanding of money by following my blog and subscribing to my YouTube channel.

🌐 Blog: Unplugged Financial Blog Stay updated with insightful articles, detailed analyses, and practical advice on navigating the evolving financial landscape. Learn about the history of money, the flaws in our current financial systems, and how Bitcoin can offer a path to a more secure and independent financial future.

📺 YouTube Channel: Unplugged Financial Subscribe to our YouTube channel for engaging video content that breaks down complex financial topics into easy-to-understand segments. From in-depth discussions on monetary policies to the latest trends in cryptocurrency, our videos will equip you with the knowledge you need to make informed financial decisions.

👍 Like, subscribe, and hit the notification bell to stay updated with our latest content. Whether you’re a seasoned investor, a curious newcomer, or someone concerned about the future of your financial health, our community is here to support you on your journey to financial independence.

📚 Get the Book: The Day The Earth Stood Still 2.0 For those who want to take an even deeper dive, my book offers a transformative look at the financial revolution we’re living through. The Day The Earth Stood Still 2.0 explores the philosophy, history, and future of money, all while challenging the status quo and inspiring action toward true financial independence.

Support the Cause

If you enjoyed what you read and believe in the mission of spreading awareness about Bitcoin, I would greatly appreciate your support. Every little bit helps keep the content going and allows me to continue educating others about the future of finance.

Donate Bitcoin: 

bc1qpn98s4gtlvy686jne0sr8ccvfaxz646kk2tl8lu38zz4dvyyvflqgddylk

[teamhawkeye]

stick with a shitty ass bank that has been pulling outrageous shit over the past decade and is now gonna start charging monthly fees if you don't meet a minimum requirement while you live paycheck to paycheck

vs.

joining another banking service which never charges you to meet a minimum balance, but has net zero banks/atms within miles and miles for you to use aside from ones not associated with any banks to withdraw cash from

[xettletech]

How Aadhaar Payments Help You Save Time and Money

In today’s fast-paced digital world, financial transactions need to be quick, easy, and secure. Aadhaar-enabled payment services (AEPS) provide a seamless way to conduct transactions, ensuring instant money transfer and secure payment processing. Whether you are a business owner, a retailer, or an individual, Aadhaar payments can save you both time and money in multiple ways.

No Need for Bank Visits or ATMs

Traditional banking often involves long queues, paperwork, and waiting times at banks or ATMs. With Aadhaar payments, you can withdraw or transfer money directly from your Aadhaar-linked bank account using just your fingerprint and Aadhaar number. This eliminates the need to visit a bank or ATM, saving both time and travel expenses.

Instant Money Transfer with Minimal Effort

One of the biggest advantages of Aadhaar payments is the ability to perform instant money transfer without delays. Whether you need to send money to a family member or make a payment for goods or services, Aadhaar banking enables real-time transactions. Unlike traditional bank transfers that may take hours or even days, Aadhaar payments happen instantly, ensuring that funds are available when needed.

Secure Payment Processing Reduces Fraud Risks

Security is a major concern when it comes to digital payments. Aadhaar payments ensure secure payment processing by using biometric authentication, such as fingerprint or iris scanning, instead of passwords or PINs that can be forgotten or stolen. Since each Aadhaar number is unique, fraud risks are significantly reduced, making it one of the safest payment methods.

No Need for Debit or Credit Cards

Carrying debit or credit cards comes with risks, such as theft, loss, or misuse. Aadhaar payments eliminate this concern as they do not require any physical cards. Users can simply authenticate transactions with their biometric details, ensuring a smooth and secure experience. This also means no more worries about card renewal fees, PIN resets, or card maintenance charges.

Low Transaction Costs Mean More Savings

Traditional banking and digital wallets often charge service fees for fund transfers, withdrawals, and other transactions. Aadhaar payments typically come with minimal or no charges, allowing users to save on unnecessary banking costs. This is particularly beneficial for small businesses and individuals who rely on frequent transactions.

Helps Small Businesses and Retailers Save Time

For businesses, time is money.Aadhaar based payments allow merchants and small retailers to receive payments instantly without waiting for bank clearances. Since AEPS transactions require only biometric authentication, customers can make payments even if they do not have a smartphone or internet access, reducing delays and improving business efficiency.

Enables Financial Inclusion in Rural Areas

In remote areas, access to banking facilities can be limited. Aadhaar payments bridge this gap by allowing people to withdraw and transfer money without needing a physical bank branch. This not only saves time spent traveling to the nearest bank but also makes financial services more accessible, especially for those who do not have traditional banking knowledge.

Government Benefits Directly in Your Account

Many government subsidies, pensions, and welfare schemes are now directly transferred to Aadhaar-linked bank accounts. This eliminates the need for middlemen, ensuring that beneficiaries receive their money without delays or additional costs. It also prevents corruption and leakage of funds, making sure every rupee reaches the intended recipient.

Simplifies Bill Payments and Daily Transactions

From paying utility bills to purchasing essentials, Aadhaar payments make everyday transactions faster and hassle-free. No more standing in long queues for bill payments or withdrawing cash from ATMs. With just an Aadhaar number and biometric verification, payments can be completed within seconds.

24/7 Availability for Convenience

Unlike traditional banking services that operate within limited hours, Aadhaar payments are available 24/7. Whether it's early morning or late at night, users can perform transactions at any time, making financial management more convenient and efficient.

Conclusion

Aadhaar payments are transforming the way financial transactions are conducted in India. With instant money transfer, secure payment processing, and minimal costs, they provide a fast, safe, and cost-effective way to manage money. Whether for individuals, businesses, or rural communities, Aadhaar-enabled payments offer significant savings in both time and money, making them a game-changer in India’s digital financial landscape.

[andrewwaghh]

Cash App Withdrawal Limits Explained: How Much Can You Access?

Cash App has grown into one of the most popular mobile payment platforms in the U.S., allowing users to send, receive, and withdraw money effortlessly. Whether you're withdrawing funds to your bank account or taking out cash using the Cash App Card at an ATM, understanding the Cash App withdrawal limit is essential.

Many users often ask: How much can you withdraw on Cash App? or Is there a withdrawal limit on Cash App? If you’re looking for a detailed guide on Cash App withdrawal limits, how to increase them, and tips for hassle-free transactions, this blog is for you. This article will explore everything you need to know about Cash App withdrawal limits, including daily, weekly, and ATM withdrawal caps, as well as ways to increase Cash App withdrawal limits to access more funds conveniently.

Cash App Withdrawal Limit: How Much Can You Withdraw on Cash App?

Cash App has set specific limits on how much money users can withdraw within a given time frame. These limits apply to both bank transfers and ATM withdrawals using the Cash App Card.

1. Cash App ATM Withdrawal Limit: If you have a Cash App Card, you can use it at ATMs to withdraw cash. However, Cash App imposes ATM withdrawal limits to ensure security and financial control.

Cash App ATM withdrawal limit per day: $1,000

Cash App ATM withdrawal limit per week: $1,000 (spread over multiple withdrawals)

Cash App ATM withdrawal limit per month: $1,250

These limits apply to all ATMs, including those that accept Visa debit cards. Keep in mind that standard ATM fees may apply unless you have set up direct deposits of $300 or more, which allows you to receive ATM fee reimbursements.

2. Cash App Bank Withdrawal Limit: If you are transferring money from Cash App to your linked bank account, there are different limits:

Standard Transfers: There is no limit on withdrawals, but it takes 1-3 business days.

Instant Transfers: Up to $25,000 per week and $50,000 per month for verified users.

3. Cash App Daily Withdrawal Limit for Card Transactions

When using your Cash App Card for in-store or online purchases, there are also transaction limits:

Daily spending limit: $7,000 per transaction.

Weekly spending limit: $10,000.

Monthly spending limit: $25,000.

These limits are separate from ATM withdrawals and apply only to card transactions.

How to Increase Cash App Withdrawal Limit?

By default, Cash App imposes strict limits on new users. However, verified users can increase Cash App withdrawal limits significantly.

Steps to Increase Cash App Withdrawal Limit:

Verify Your Identity: Provide your full name, date of birth, and the last four digits of your Social Security Number (SSN).

Enable Direct Deposits: Users with direct deposits enabled have access to higher withdrawal and spending limits.

Contact Cash App Support: If you need to increase your limit further, you can contact Cash App Support for assistance.

After verification, you can enjoy higher limits, making transactions more convenient.

Cash App ATM Withdrawal Process

Withdrawing money from an ATM using your Cash App Card is simple. Follow these steps:

Insert your Cash App Card into the ATM.

Enter your PIN (set in your Cash App settings).

Select ‘Withdrawal’ and enter the amount you want to withdraw.

Confirm the transaction and collect your cash.

Take your receipt and Cash App Card.

Ensure that your withdrawal amount is within the Cash App ATM withdrawal limit per day to avoid declined transactions.

Fees Associated with Cash App Withdrawals

When withdrawing money, be aware of the fees involved:

ATM Fees: Standard ATMs charge fees, but Cash App reimburses fees if you have direct deposits of at least $300.

Instant Transfer Fees: If you choose an instant transfer to your bank, Cash App charges a 1.5% fee.

Using free withdrawal methods, such as standard bank transfers, helps avoid extra costs.

FAQs About Cash App Withdrawal Limits

1. What is the Cash App withdrawal limit per day?

The Cash App ATM limit per day is $1,000, and the bank transfer limit per day depends on whether you are a verified user.

2. Can I withdraw more than the Cash App ATM withdrawal limit?

No, unless you have multiple transactions split over several days. You can, however, increase Cash App withdrawal limits by verifying your account.

3. How do I increase my Cash App atm limit?

To increase Cash App atm limit, verify your identity by providing your name, date of birth, and SSN in the app.

4. Can I withdraw money from the Cash App without a card?

Yes! You can transfer money from Cash App to your bank account and withdraw it at your bank or use Cash App Pay for in-store purchases.

5. What is the Cash App daily withdrawal limit for purchases?

For Cash App Card transactions, the limit is $7,000 per transaction, $10,000 per week, and $25,000 per month.

6. Does Cash App charge fees for ATM withdrawals?

Yes, ATMs charge standard fees. However, if you have direct deposits of $300 or more, Cash App reimburses ATM fees.

Final Thoughts

Understanding the Cash App withdrawal limit is crucial for managing your money efficiently. Whether you’re withdrawing cash from an ATM or transferring funds to your bank, knowing your limits helps avoid transaction failures. If you need to access more funds, follow the steps to increase Cash App withdrawal limits for a seamless experience.

By verifying your identity and enabling direct deposits, you can maximize your Cash App usage while minimizing fees. Always check your account settings to stay updated on your withdrawal limits. If you have any questions about Cash App withdrawal limits, feel free to leave a comment below!

[secure-affair]

What Is the Cash App Sending, Withdrawal, and Receiving Limits?

Cash App has become one of the most popular peer-to-peer payment platforms, providing users with quick and seamless transactions. However, like any financial service, Cash App imposes certain limits on how much you can send, withdraw, and receive. This comprehensive guide breaks down the details to help you maximize your Cash App usage effectively.

What Is the Cash App Daily Limit?

The Cash App daily sending limit for unverified accounts is capped at $250. This limit applies to the total amount you can send within 24 hours. If your account is verified, you can send significantly more, but we'll dive into that later in this guide.

When it comes to receiving funds, unverified accounts can receive up to $1,000 within 30 days. However, verified users can receive unlimited funds daily, making verification a crucial step for frequent users.

What Is the Cash App Weekly Limit?

For unverified accounts, the weekly sending limit on Cash App is $250. This includes all payments made through the platform within a 7-day period. On the other hand, verified accounts enjoy a weekly limit of up to $7,500, providing significantly more flexibility for transactions.

Receiving limits follow the same principle. Unverified accounts can receive a maximum of $1,000 over a rolling 30-day period, while verified accounts have no cap on receiving funds.

When Does the Cash App Weekly Limit Reset?

The weekly limit on Cash App resets on a rolling basis. This means that your weekly sending or receiving limit is recalculated every 7 days based on your transaction history. For instance, if you made a payment on a Wednesday, that amount will be available for reuse the following Wednesday.

This rolling reset provides users with an ongoing opportunity to manage their limits without waiting for a strict calendar week to reset.

What Is the Cash App Daily, Weekly, and Monthly Withdrawal Limit?

The withdrawal limits on Cash App depend on how you are accessing your funds. For ATM withdrawals, the daily Cash App ATM limit is set at $1,000, while the weekly limit caps at $1,000 as well. Monthly withdrawals are generally limited to $1,250.

These limits apply whether you are withdrawing funds directly from an ATM or transferring them to a linked bank account for withdrawal.

What Is the Cash App ATM Withdrawal Limit?

The ATM withdrawal limit on Cash App is $310 per transaction, up to $1,000 per day. Weekly ATM withdrawals are capped at $1,000. It’s important to note that Cash App charges a fee for ATM withdrawals unless you receive at least $300 in qualifying direct deposits each month, in which case the ATM fees are reimbursed.

What Is the Cash App Sending Limit After Verification?

Once your account is verified, the sending limit on Cash App increases significantly. Verified accounts can send up to $7,500 per week, which is a substantial jump from the $250 limit for unverified users.

Verification requires providing your full name, date of birth, and the last four digits of your Social Security number. In some cases, Cash App may request additional information to confirm your identity.

How Much Can You Withdraw, Send, and Receive Daily?

Daily limits on Cash App vary depending on the type of transaction:

Cash App Sending Limit: Up to $7,500 per week (for verified accounts).

Cash App Receiving Limit: Unlimited for verified accounts; $1,000 within 30 days for unverified accounts.

Cash App ATM Withdrawal Limit: $310 per transaction, up to $1,000 per day.

For unverified users, the sending limit is restricted to $250 per day or per week. These limits highlight the importance of verifying your account to unlock the platform's full potential.

How to Increase Cash App Limit?

Increasing your Cash App limit involves a straightforward verification process. Follow these steps:

Open the Cash App on your mobile device.

Navigate to your profile by tapping on your profile icon.

Select "Personal" and provide the required information:

Full legal name.

Date of birth.

Last four digits of your Social Security number.

Submit the information and wait for verification approval.

Once verified, your sending limit increases from $250 to $7,500 per week, and your receiving limit becomes unlimited.

How to Increase Cash App Limit from $2,500 to $7,500?

To Increase Cash App Limit from $2,500 to $7,500 week, follow these additional tips:

Ensure Accurate Information: Provide exact details as they appear on official documents.

Enable Direct Deposits: Adding a direct deposit feature may improve your account's credibility.

Use Cash App Consistently: Regular transactions signal reliability to the platform.

Contact Support if Necessary: If your limits don’t increase after verification, reach out to Cash App’s support team for assistance.

Why Verifying Your Cash App Account Is Essential

Verification is key to unlocking Cash App's full capabilities. Besides increasing sending and receiving limits, verification enhances security, reduces transaction delays, and provides access to additional features like Bitcoin trading and direct deposit.

Final Thoughts

Understanding the limits on Cash App is essential for making the most of this convenient payment platform. By verifying your account, you can significantly increase your sending, receiving, and withdrawal limits, ensuring a smoother financial experience.