#feels like i have loaded a barrel of a gun lmao | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

echos-newlegs · 3 years

Note

Hi there lovely! Can we see 46 with crosshair x fem! Reader? ❤️

Got you

Bro oh my goodness yes 😳 deadass the moment I read this I had gotten done sighting one of my deer rifles and I got an idea from it and this prompt allows me to use that idea so thank you 😎 I wasn’t doing anything illegal. It was all safe and I was at a shooting range lmao. I just had an idea from it 💀

Tbh I thought this would be better but then I decided to write at midnight.

Ner Sarad: My Flower

Crosshair x Reader: “Isn’t this illegal?” “I mean, probably?”

Warnings: reader is using a gun. Bit detailed on shooting because yes. No one is injured besides Your guys egos and a door. There is swearing and kissing/making out ig.

There wasn't many times that you actually caught some proper rest. You were normally always kept up by nightmares or the noises in the room or outside. Whether it be lying in your bunk on Kamino, or the one on the Marauder.

Though, whenever you did catch a break. It seemed like you were always awoken by one of the boys. For no reason most the time.

You groaned, eyes snapping open. You nearly punched whoever it was throwing stuff at you. Looking down to your legs to see your boots and your blacks. "C'mon." You heard Crosshairs voice. He had been ignoring you for the past month. You figured it was just his mood swings, you did something, or it was the fact Hunter demanded Crosshair taught you how to use the rifle.

You didn't really want to if he wasn't up for teaching you. Though it would be neat. You were never a fan of being in the middle of the war field like the rest of them, and Hunter caught on. Which is why he figured having two people on rifle wouldn't hurt.

"What are you doing? Where are we going?" You asked and Crosshair looked back. Though you were moving out of the bunk with your clothes in arm. Making way for the fresher. "We're target practicing, now hurry before I change my mind." He scoffed and you nearly ran into the fresher with a grin.

Not only was Cross taking time out of his 'busy' schedule to hang out with you, but he would be target practicing with you.

You exited the fresher in your customized blacks the Bad Batch got for you. Tech figured it would be good, being you had your own armor. Some that matched their design.

You sat back on the bed, strapping on your leg pieces and crotch piece only. Since that's all Crosshair had on.

When you left the room and entered the main room of the Marauder you reached for your blaster on a shelf, but he stopped you. Shoving your hand away from it. Putting his rifle in your hand instead. "Here," he gruffed, and your eyes widened. Fingers curling around the forestock.

"You trust me enough to let me use your own gun?" You asked with a small smile, brows raised. He only shrugged and sighed. Walking past you to the door. You took that as a yes. Him handing you a container of ammo and motioning with his head for you to follow.

You had a slight pep in your step. Hands carefully holding the gun. The stock pressed against your shoulder. Barrel pointing down.

When the two of you left the ship you were both squinting. The rising sun hitting your eyes. Both of you letting out a slight hiss. "Should of brought our helmets," you commented, and he grunted. "Can't aim with a visor like yours." You sighed, that wasn't what you meant. There was no use arguing and pissing him off though.

Your boots crunched against the ground. A mix of loose rocks, grass, sticks, and other plants. "Where we heading," he motioned forward. Not saying where though. Typical.

The planet you were on was for a mission. You had all completed the mission but were all too exhausted to leave. It didn't pose a threat since it was a simple find and retrieve mission. Some weird crystals and lost items for a senator. 'We went from guard dogs to kriffing pets playing fetch,' you had commented the day before. All of them, even Crosshair agreed with you. It was boring, to say the least. The search wore you all out though.

Your legs were beginning to sting a bit. The walking wasn't something you weren't used to. It was the injury you had from the previous mission. Though you did your best to keep up with the long legged man. "Gunna have to get used to keeping up, Ner sarad." You rolled your eyes and sighed. “You better not be calling names, you know I can’t understand Mando’a.” You added with a sliver of a whine laced in your voice.

He smirked at your comment, thankful you were somewhat behind him so you couldn’t see. “That’s the point,” you shook your head. Catching up beside him finally. Though he did slow down just a hair. He wouldn’t admit it. “Turn,” he shoved you a bit and you glared. Turning where he told you to, then he took the lead again.

The turn led to an abandoned building. A flight of stairs connected to the outside. Cross pausing in front of it, then looking to you. “Waiting for Hunter to wake up or you scared?” Cross spoke and you snickered. “Making me go first and you’re calling me scared, typical.” He sneered a bit at that as you purposely ran into his shoulder on your way to the stairs. Keeping the gun up from the steps as you made your way up.

He was close behind you, almost too close, actually. So when you stopped at the top he nearly ran into your back. Making you smirk as you looked back to him. Not saying anything. “What?” He snapped, and you shook your head. “Oh nothing.” “Sure, go over there.” He motioned vaguely with his hand as he walked off into the other direction.

You could only assume he meant near the little ledge near the end of the roof. Standing there a bit awkwardly until he returned with some pieces of shrapnel and pots. Varying in sizes. “A’ight, Sarad, you know how to use a rifle, right?” He asked, and you nodded. “Yeah,” “load it for me then.” That was no problem. Taking some of the bullets from the container he brought. You popped open the magazine, slipped a few bullets in, then slipped it back into the gun. Pulling back the lever then pushing it forward again with a click.

He nodded, standing behind you now. “Y’ever shot one?” He asked, helping you bring it to your shoulder. You could barely process the question. Your heart was racing. You could almost feel his back up against yours. His hands holding yours to help you bring the gun up. Repositioning your hands. Then letting go of you to see if your would falter. Though you kept the position.

“Not for a long while, I used to with my brother, when we were kids,” you spoke. Grunting when he kicked your feet apart, then went back to standing by your side. He only hummed, looking around in front of you two. Then pointed. “See that door,” you nodded. “Shoot at the white square in the middle.” He twirled his toothpick in between his teeth and you sighed.

“Isn’t this illegal?” You asked, aiming the weapon. Closing your left eye as you peered through the scope. Poking your tongue out of your mouth in concentration. “I mean, probably.” He murmured. Watching you with folded arms.

You barely heard what he said. Inhaling, then holding your breath as you aimed. Once you had the spot, you exhaled slowly. Finger squeezing the trigger.

When the weapon fired your grip loosened. Shoulder jerking back with the gun. Causing the scope to smack around your eye. You winced, letting out a sharp hiss. Heart racing and ears ringing from the loud bang.

Crosshair was too focused on where you were aiming to even notice you just scoped yourself. “Nice,” he approved. Then looked back over to you.

You leant back a bit, back against the wall. Fingers feeling under your eye and he instantly knew what you did. “Thought you knew how to shoot.” His voice was sour, and it stung. “I told you I haven’t shot in a while,” you spat back. Bringing your fingers from your face. Wondering if it was bruised. It felt wet, but there was no blood on your fingers. So you assumed it was a mix of the tears that sprung to your eyes and the sweat on your hands.

You were too focused on the ringing in your ears and the stinging of your face to even notice Crosshair approach you. He took the gun, leaning it against the wall. Then grabbed your wrists, making you flinch. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he was trying to reassure you, but his voice was still hard and sour. “Let me look.”

You looked up to him, lips pressed in a line. He brought a hand to your cheek. Finger pressing lightly against the skin under your eye. Making you flinch and tears threaten to spill. “Kriff, don’t do that,” you snapped and he smirked a bit. “Should have at least told me to keep the gun hugged to my shoulder.” You protested. Eyes darting to the side. Avoiding his gaze the best you could.

He pulled the toothpick from out between his lips. “Probably still woulda done it. If you haven’t shot for years.” His hand was still on your cheek. You were sure he could feel it heating up. Letting out a sharp exhale through your nose. “Are we still gunna shoot or just stand around like a bunch of morons?” You asked, looking back to him. Catching the short glimpse of shock on his face.

“You still wanna shoot?” He asked. Dropping his hands to his sides. Nodding. “Yeah, so what I got scoped, least I have proof you actually took me shooting.” You smirked. Making him chuckle. Lips tugging up, just shy of a smile. “And if I don’t let you?” “I ask hunter what Ner Sarad means and I tell everyone you gave me the black eye I’m most likely going to have.” You threatened. Jabbing your finger at his chest. Making him roll his eyes and sigh.

“Fine.”

The shooting went on great. You were a better aim than he expected. Which made you feel a bit proud of yourself. Especially since Crosshair was praising you in some way. You still needed work on flying targets, but you were sure you’d get the hang of it.

Once the container of bullets he brought was empty, that was when you guys decided on leaving.

“So what does it mean?” You asked. Cross now holding the gun, you holding the empty container. Arms more sore than they’ve ever been. You honestly weren’t sure how he did it. “What’s what mean?” He asked, looking over to you. You nodded your head up a bit. “Ner Sarad.” The words rolled off your tongue, slightly mimicking his gruff voice.

He scoffed, shaking his head. “I don’t sound like that..” “oh, you’re right, it’s more a Ner Saraaad.” You made the voice worse sounding, making you giggle. Cross smiling just a bit, then looking away. As if he showed you he was enjoying this moment his everything would crash and burn. “Guess.” You groaned, throwing your head back. “No, you know I hate guessing games, they kriffing suck.” He shrugged. That was it, a shrug. “Fine.” He smirked at that.

You thought for a moment or two. Fingers tapping the side of the container. Biting on your bottom lip a bit. “Hmm. Idiot,” “no,” “bitch,” “no,” “smart ass?” He sighed and you raised a brow. “Warm or cold?” He looked over to you, a look of unamusement written all over his face. “You’re on Hoth at this point.” His words made you want to give up more.

“Can I have a hint?” He nodded, stopping in his tracks. “Wait here,” he spoke. Then wandered off the trail you were both following. What could it be? Was he finding something? “Are you calling me a loser? Loner? Oh! You’re calling me a jackass.” You hollered, hearing a grumble follow your spew. Making you snicker.

When he returned he had a small purple flower in between his fingers. You stared at it with knitted brows. “A flower?” You spoke, dumbfounded. You looked up to his face. His jaw was clenched, eyes darting around. Cheeks red. “You’re calling me a flower? No, you ass you’re calling me a weed aren’t you?” You asked, folding your arms over your chest. The last thing you expected was the nickname to be something nice.

He sighed, looking at you with an ‘are you serious.’ Look. “What?” “You really are an idiot, sometimes,” you blinked, and then raised a brow. “You’re a stubborn shit, sometimes, too.” You told him, and he still held the flower in his hand. The two of you staring at one another for a moment. “Can you just tell me?” You spoke, “please?”

He sighed, looking up at the sky for a moment. Then back down to meet your eyes. “Ner Sarad, it means..” he trailed off. Swallowing thickly. He could lie, say it meant something else, but then the flower would make no sense, and you were smart. You would figure it out some way or another. “My flower.” He murmured. You could barely hear him. But you did. “Your what-“ “I’m not repeating myself, Makers sake.” He spat, and began walking again. Dropping the flower as he stormed off.

You were left standing there in disbelief. Shaking your head, you reached down to pick up the flower, then ran after him. “Cross, wait!” You shouted, yielding when he stopped. “What?” He snarled. Turning to look at you over his shoulder. You backed up a bit. Watching as his face softened a bit when you looked back to him. “Why a flower?” You asked, and his eyes looked down to the flower in between your fingers now. Sarting his tongue out to lick his lips.

He let out a sigh, thinking. He wasn’t sure what to say. He was horrible with words, let alone explaining things. “You remind me of them,” was all he said. “Why though?” You pressed, walking towards him. “If you don’t mind me asking..” you added, catching that he did look a bit anxious. Watching as he leaned his rifle against a tree. “They’re hum.. Maker..” he breathed out. Reaching up to pull the toothpick from his lips. Flicking it onto the ground. He reached out, grabbing you by the side of your face and pulled you in for a kiss.

His lips pressed against yours. Eyes squeezed shut. He knew he’d regret this right after, but he was better with actions than words anyways. You tensed up, hands rushing to his chest. Dropping the container and the flower in the process.

He pulled back. Taking a step back in the process. Hands brought back to himself, and it left you standing there staring. He hated you. How you smelt so good, how you intoxicated his every thought. How you could get him to talk more than even his brothers could. How your smile made his stomach feel light and fluttery. He despised you for everything you did to him. No other persons ever made him feel this way and he hated it. He felt to vulnerable, and that was something he shouldn’t feel. He was a clone, a defective one for that matter. This shouldn’t be a thing that was happening.

You could tell his mind was running a mile a minute when you said his name and he just stared at you with a blank stare. He was overthinking this, and you began panicking a bit internally. “Cross, hey, look at me, come back to me, Cross.” You spoke, voice soft and quiet. You made a move to reach up and cup his face, but his hands fled to your wrists. Looking down at you and to your eyes. Scanning you for something. “Why aren’t you mad?” He spoke, voice stinging into your skin.

You frowned, pushing forward from his grasp to cup his face. His hands still holding your wrists. You saw him relax for a second at your touch. “I’m not mad,” “but why? I just kissed you..” he spoke. Once now laced with distress. His walls were beginning to crack. Chip away and crumble all from your touch. “Crosshair, I understand, I know how you are with words. You fucking suck with em.” He frowned a bit at that, and you smiled. “Actions have always been your forte, and who’s to say I didn’t enjoy it?” You asked, your own nerves calming a bit as you attempted to reassure the lanky man.

He looked down at you with furrowed brows. “You’re just saying that.” You tittered, leaning up a bit. “You’re just stubborn.” He watched you for a moment. Your hands removing themselves from his face. Crosshairs fingers fell from your wrists. Falling to his side, but you weren’t done. “You gunna give up over a little rushed kiss, or you wanna try again?” You murmured, hands reaching for his. Fingers interlacing with one another.

“Thought you told me once you’ve kissed plenty of girls,” you teased. “It’s been a while.” Standing on your tip toes to lean in closer. “Then how bout we practice?” You asked, closing the gap between the two of you.

It was smoother than the last. You led it this time. Your hands leaving one another’s so your hands could wander his body. Tips of your fingers running up his stomach. Then running your hands over his chest to rest on his shoulders.

He had one hand on your lower back, the other moving to trace the skin of your throat. Long fingers running over your collar bone, then sliding up the back of your neck to place firmly against the back of your head.

Once the feeling was set he took over. The two of you pulling from the kiss for once a second, then his lips were back on yours. It wasn’t long before he was walking you back against a tree. Pressing you up against it which make you grunt. His tongue darting out to run over your lips. Then pry your lips open. A small hum escaping your chest. Making him smirk.

His hand on your lower back mover to cup your ass. Eyes parting a bit to see him open his eyes at the same time. You were too dazed to complain though. His tongue exploring your mouth. Then pulling back. A sting of saliva connecting your mouths.

The both of you were panting. Trying to catch your breathes after that little ordeal. “Practiced enough?” You managed, and he looked down a bit. Making your face heat up even more. If that were even possible. “No,” he deadpanned. Lips meeting yours in a bruising kiss. Then trailed down your jaw.

Once his lips met the skin of your neck it was all hunting ground to him. His teeth grazing your skin. Biting here and there. Sucking, leaving marks. He wanted the others to know that something went on. He wanted the regs at 79’s tonight to know that you were now his. Or at least in your eyes you were. His flower, his everything.

You both let out a groan when you heard Crosshairs comm go off. “Cross answer it,” you spoke in a near moan as he sucked on a sensitive patch of skin. Making him pull off with a grunt. His hands releasing you, letting you slump against the tree. “Crosshair, where are you and y/n?” He heard Tech on the other end. “We were shooting the rifle, we’ll be back in a bit,” “Cross-“ he shut off the com link. Turning back to face you with a small smirk as he looked you over. You were still a bit disheveled as you attempted to fix your shirt and your hair. Then leant over to pick up the container. Crosshair picking up the flower. “Hm?” You hummed as he reached over. Tucking it behind your ear. “There, Ner Sarad.”

You couldn’t help but smile, looking up to him with a loving gaze. “I hate you, sometimes,” you murmured. Giving him a quick kiss, then began walking for the marauder again. “Right back at you, y/n.”

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1kook · 4 years

Text

acatalepsy

— 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨 ; 𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐦

chapter summary; The amount of times he’s seen you stretch yourself thin for this place was unreal. Jungkook liked Oleander as much as the next person, but occasionally he’d get hit with doubts. What would they do once the entity found them? Jungkook thinks he’d run. He’d take you and run far away, leaving this whole place behind. He’ll never tell you this, though, because he knew you loved Oleander too much. And if you didn’t, the responsibilities that tied you to it would never let you abandon the people like that anyway. overall warnings; gorey scenes, depictions of death, appearance of weapons, survival!au, apocalypse!au, super l o o s e bird box!au (no birds - jk is the bird 👀), eventual smut, dark and angsty, major character death chapter specifics; nudity, mentions of masturbation, unreal levels of horniness from jungkook, mentions of death, 1 fight scene, use of weapons, jungkook abusing tf outta pet names, loads of pessimistic jungkook word count; 10k

notes; as always ty to my amazing editor rumu 🥺<333 this part isn't as dark as part one, but anyway enjoy in love but on edge jungkook lmao

part one ⇠ part two ⇢ part three (soon!)

[ twelve months later]

“Rise and shine!” Taehyung sings, ripping the flap of his tent open for the world (the base) to see, sunlight filtering in through the gap like the trickling of water over a brook. Satisfied with the disruption, Taehyung flounces off to wake another poor soul from their sleep, leaving Jungkook to fend against the rays of the sun by himself. There’s a breeze this morning, one that makes the flimsy flaps bristle with each gush of wind, sunlight roving over him in intervals that leave Jungkook groaning in annoyance.

He can only stand it for so long, eventually rolling off his sleeping bag when he hears more voices outside beginning to grunt, the pop of bones as people do their morning stretches. With a final yawn, Jungkook decides to show his face to the outside world, stumbling out of his tent with sleep crusted eyes that have him bumping into a kid first thing in the morning, a slew of apologies thrown his way.

“Sorry, Jungkook!” The group of them call, skirting off in a fit of giggles. Jungkook waves them off, stretching his arms out in front of him as he waits for Namjoon to wake up.

The man in the tent next door is usually pretty good at rising before Taehyung’s wake up call, more often than not waiting for Jungkook. Today, however, is seemingly an off day. Five minutes roll by and Jungkook's patience is as long as his pinky— short. Such is proven when he barges into the tent only to find Namjoon sprawled out like a starfish inside.

“Hey,” he says, nudging his foot against the unconscious man’s calf. “Joon, we gotta go if you wanna get the good spot by the river.” More silence. Eventually, Jungkook gets mean and leans down to pinch his side, an action that not only wakes Namjoon, but also has him squealing at the touch.

“I’m up, I’m up,” he gasps, scrambling far away from Jungkook in a frenzied rush. Only after he’s knocked over his plastic bottle and the makeshift twig drying rack he dries his clothes and towel on does he calm down. “Oh, Kook. It’s you.”

Jungkook nods, eyes struggling to stay awake. “Yes, it is I, Jungkook, who would love to take a bath before __ yells at me for being late to breakfast again.”

Namjoon grunts as he gets up, taking his towel and day clothes with him as they exit his tent. At the creek, Jungkook drops his boxers—one of the four he owns and wears on rotation—and has to endure three minutes of Seokjin catcalling him. Him and some other fellow are guarding the creek bed today, guns cradled against their chests as Jungkook, Namjoon, and a few more people crawl into the water.

When Jungkook had first arrived, the thought of bathing with so many people made him uncomfortable. His nude form wasn’t something he went around showing everyone, and now he was expected to just show it to a bunch of strangers? Even worse, the people who stood guard against the river, eyes peeled for any potential threats. It all made him very nervous.

Now Seokjin’s calculated expression as he glances over the treeline behind them comforts Jungkook. The world was weird like that.

“Holy shit,” Jungkook groans, the same way he does every other day they bathe, muscles jumping at the cold water that tickles his toes. He sighs as he walks deeper into the freezing coldness. He rinses himself off, half heartedly splashing his body with water; at its deepest it only reaches above his knee.

Namjoon is off today, probably from the extended watch they had last night, eyes scanned over the dark forest as they waited for you and some other people to return from a scavenging trip that took about three days. It was just before dawn when you returned and his replacements relieved them of their duties. When they sit down to wash their hair, he nearly falls face first into Jungkook’s knee.

Jungkook cackles at the sight, trying to pretend like his nipples aren’t freezing as he fully envelopes himself in the water. “You alright, man?” He asks, running his fingernails through his hair. A couple of the people bathing further down the creek get up and leave, dressing by the bank. He knew they were a little late today, but Jesus, were they fast or what?

Namjoon nods, and the poor guy doesn’t even have the energy to defend himself when Jungkook childishly slaps a wave of water his way. “Just tired,” he admits, beginning to wash his own hair. With most of the people finished, Seokjin lets the other guard go early, leaving just the three of them at the creek.

“Hurry it up, ladies,” Seokjin calls, and Jungkook is only a little disappointed that his splash doesn’t reach him all the way over by his perch.

Luckily, before he can retort, there’s a silkier voice drifting through his ears, one that immediately makes every hair on his body stand straight. “What are you trying to say about ladies, Seokjin?” You ask as you come up behind him, and Jungkook is immediately flooded with warmth at your early morning appearance. Seokjin flounders for an answer you pay no mind to, eyes snapping to where Jungkook is instead.

“Need you at the armory in five, Kook,” you tell him, and he wonders if you know the way your voice makes his chest pound.

Pushing those juvenile thoughts away, Jungkook quickly slaps on a goofy grin for you. “Oh? You hear that, boys? Our great leader needs some alone time with me,” he boasts, and Namjoon rolls his eyes at his antics.

“She’d rather choke than be with a pleb like you,” Seokjin snorts, finally dropping his guard stance as Namjoon and him get out of the water. “Jesus, Kook—again?” He groans, covering your eyes with his rifle as Jungkook stands up, half-hard boner and all.

He’s grown used to it, the occasional hard on he gets in the water, like he’s some superhuman who’s developed immunity to the usual effects of cold water on a hard dick. But he can’t help it, it’s been over a year since he last got his dick wet, and being disgustingly in love with a woman who didn’t know certainly didn’t help. “What’s wrong?” You frown, hand wrapping around the barrel of Seokjin’s gun that blocks your vision.

Namjoon tosses him his towel, and he’s just knotted it around his waist when you catch his eye again, unimpressed as usual. “Don’t worry about it, baby,” he teases, turning his body away from you as he shimmies his clothes on. He can still feel your glare on his exposed backside, but living in Oleander has made him comfortable in his birthday suit, so he really doesn’t mind. When he’s halfway dressed, pant legs haphazardly stuffed into the big, chunky boots Namjoon had brought back for him once, he turns around, shirt tossed over his bare shoulder, to follow you back to the base.

“And you’re requesting my presence so early in the morning, why?” He hums, toweling his hair dry as the two of you finally reach Oleander. There’s significantly more people milling about now, kids playing a game of soccer in the middle of the grounds, while others travel to and from the mess hall. There’s a wonderful scent emanating from the mess hall’s open front, and Jungkook wishes desperately you’ll lead him there instead.

You don’t, politely bidding people good morning until you reach the door to the armory, waving Jungkook in. “Needed you,” you explain, clattering around the space in search for something. The armory has gotten some pretty good upgrades in the past year he’s been here, graduating from a shabby box to full on storage container. It took a while to get it to this size, the wood working process more difficult than any of them thought, but they were all proud of it now.

Over the past year, Oleander has grown in size, a fact which causes great turmoil in Jungkook. On one hand, he’s glad he and the others have been able to save more people, take them under their wings in this scary new world. On the other, he feels like he’s always on edge.

It was a known fact that the entity was drawn to established civilizations, and with each new person that joined, Jungkook is left wondering what exactly that means. The last he heard, they were sitting somewhere near one hundred seventy. That was about one hundred more than when he first arrived. Was there some unknown number they had to avoid? Would the entity sense their presence once they reached two hundred residents, deem them an established society that needed wrecking?

He doesn’t know. They’ve been lucky enough so far, never having been caught by the entity on Oleander grounds. But other groups of scavengers hadn’t. Despite their growing numbers, they’ve lost people as well. Some they knew were caught up by neighboring bases—the Magnolians in particular, who killed on sight—and would return in groups smaller than when they were dispatched. Others never returned at all, presumably infected with the madness.

Nonetheless, Oleander continued to grow. They weren’t a spattering of tents and loose rules anymore, erecting more shabbily constructed buildings along the way. Like a privacy room for a pregnant woman they’d found and another small storage for the vegetables they began growing last fall.

Jungkook groans as he settles into a seat across from you, tugging his shirt over his shoulders. “That’s what I like to hear.”

You level him with an unamused glare, tossing a dirt-caked bullet at him. He catches it in one hand, twirls the bronzed metal between his fingers. “What happened to the quiet guy who couldn’t even look me in the eye?” You huff, pulling up a crate to sit before him.

Jungkook squints at the bullet, finally catching sight of an engraved brand name he’s almost certain they don’t have. “Life,” he murmurs absentmindedly. “Where did you get this?” He asks, finally glancing back at you.

Your arms are crossed over your chest, and he’s come to learn you do this one of two times: one when you’re feeling especially confident, unconsciously garnering everyone’s attention with such a pose, and the other when something is bothering you. Judging by the quirk of your lips, Jungkook guesses it’s the latter.

“Found it on our way back,” you relay, huffing as you recall the memory. Jungkook raises a brow at the news, gesturing for you to elaborate. “By the mouth of the creek.”

That’s a couple miles away, he thinks, sitting back in his seat in a pose that mimics yours. He and Taehyung had spent an entire day following the creek behind the base, traced it miles out until they’d reached a larger river that Jungkook only barely remembered learning about in high school geography. A river meant fish, a revelation that had excited them both after eating nothing but canned foods for the past few months. Of course, you hadn’t been as thrilled when they returned to base hours later, having left without telling anyone. He still remembers the watery sheen to your eyes as you had cursed them to hell and back.

“Our creek?” He asks, just to make sure, and you confirm with a nod. “Damn,” he scoffs, rubbing a hand over his chin in a habit he picked up from Hobi. “We gotta go check it out.”

The handful of bases they stumbled upon this past year were far and few between. Most times, you, their leader, would approach any camps you saw first and meet with their respective leader. They hardly ever interacted with you again, because there was always that looming sense of competition between survivor camps like yours.

In fact, the only group Jungkook could think of that blatantly went out of their way to cause problems was the one that had so lovingly almost beat him to death when he was at his lowest: Magnolia. It feels like a lifetime ago.

You agree. “That’s what I was thinking,” you sigh, raising to your feet. “But I don’t wanna risk anyone getting hurt if it is dangerous, y’know?”

He follows after you, leaning against a folding table he and the guys snatched off some lawn during their last scavenge. A bitch to carry back, but it was definitely worth it. “Yeah, keep it small,” he suggests, running through a list of all their active scavengers in his head. “Maybe five?”

You shake your head, nibbling your lip nervously. “Too risky. I was thinking less.”

“Less?” Jungkook chokes. “Babe, you can’t send a smaller group than that, that’s suicide.” Never mind the fact he and Taehyung had been completely okay with dallying off like that just a few months ago. Semantics Jungkook refuses to acknowledge. “Besides, I don’t think anyone would volunteer for that.”

You glance at him for a moment, and he can visibly see your brain working overtime, before you’re turning away with a determined look on your face. “Listen,” you sigh, hands flat on the table. Jungkook peers down at your twisted features. “I’m not asking anyone to volunteer,” you explain. “I’ll go.”

Jungkook scoffs. “Like hell you will,” he retorts. “And when those fuckers catch you all alone and kill you?” You don’t say a word, lower lip caught between your teeth as you glare down at the bullet.

“Then you move on,” you finally breathe. “Get a new leader. Probably move the camp.”

Jungkook could gouge his eyes out. “Babe, what,” he stresses. “No. You’re not gonna go on a mission like that alone.”

Finally turning away from whatever trance the bullet has you in, you cross your arms over your chest. “Really? And what’s stopping me?”

“Me,” he enforces, stepping into your space. “You aren’t gonna go and confront whatever psycho is out there. Baby, do you even realize how reckless that sounds?”

“I do!” You snap. “Which is why I don’t want other people going.” You step away, rub your fingers against your forehead as you lose yourself in an even deeper train of thought.

“Then I'm going too,” Jungkook announces, whirling away before you can tell him no.

A hand catches his shoulder, forcefully tugging him back around. He’s met with your wide eyes, flickering over his face in worry. “Jungkook, now’s not the time to play hero,” you plead.

He scoffs. “Could say the same to you.”

Groaning you push him away. “Please,” you huff. “Just stay here. It’s probably nothing and I’ll come back after sunset.”

“If it’s nothing then I don't see the issue with me going,” he points out. In the back of his head, he’s vaguely aware he’s volunteering himself for the very same plan he claimed no one would volunteer for just a few moments ago. It was crazy what one woman and a thundering heart could do to him. But he’d follow you on a thousand stupid missions if it meant keeping you safe. “When are we leaving?”

To prevent inciting any panic among the Oleanderians over one bullet, the only person you tell about this trip is Hoseok. Jungkook thinks it’s dumb. Actually, Jungkook thinks this whole idea is pretty dumb, and that they could benefit greatly from taking at least one more person along, even if that person was half-asleep Namjoon.

You don’t share the same sentiment as you haul a tiny bag of supplies over his shoulder, gesturing for Jungkook to get moving.

Right as the two of you step off Oleander grounds, Seokjin’s voice comes barreling around the corner. Jungkook sees the noticeable displeasure in your features as the two of you pause, watching the nurse torpedo towards the two of you. “Where are you two going?” He immediately begins interrogating. You glance at Jungkook who only glances back at you, urging you to respond to Jin. Normally, he would’ve told the guy to simply fuck off. But since this is your secret plan he wants to see what lie you’ll toss out this time.

With an indignant roll of your eyes you turn to face the older man. “I’m taking Jungkook out for some practice,” you fib, and Jungkook is a little offended you would even insinuate he needs more practice. “His knee has been hurting again so we wanna take it slow.”

It’s probably the lamest excuse you can give. Seokjin was well aware of the ache in his knee, caused by years of training on the field and torn ligaments that have long since healed over. He knows everything there is to know about Jungkook’s knee, especially the fact it only hurt after a scavenging trip, and as far as he was concerned, Jungkook hadn’t gone on a trip in the past two weeks.

“Uh huh,” Seokjin says, and Jungkook can tell he doesn’t believe the words coming out of your mouth for one second.

At this point, he’s desperate to start down the creek, prove there truly is no harm down there as you suspect, and whisk you back to the O quickly. If that means he has to put the charm on Seokjin, then that’s fine by him.

“Listen, big guy,” Jungkook steps forward, pushing you behind him. “Me and the boss are gonna get some practice,” a greasy wink he’s glad you don’t see, “if you know what I mean. So do me a solid and lay off this once?”

Jungkook’s excuse only makes Seokjin even more wary, but sensing he won’t get a serious answer out of the two of you, he backs off. “Fine,” he agrees, stepping away. He throws a glance over at you, “let me know if this sleaze tries anything with you.”

You nod, tugging Jungkook down towards the creek bed hastily. “Really? That was your best excuse?” You snap with a unbelieving look in your eye. “Another sexual joke?”

Jungkook shrugs. “What can I say? It’s my brand,” he halfheartedly defends, soon falling into step beside you as you hurry alongside the creek bed. He doesn’t see the need to rush, considering this will most likely be a long trip.

It takes about three and half hours to get to the huge river the creek trickles into. The long distance is the main reason fish hadn’t become completely integrated into the mess hall’s admittedly small menu like he and Taehyung had dreamt about. Normally he doesn’t mind the seven hours to and from if he’s with the guys, a scenic walk that’s filled with countless jokes here and there.

With you, however, every nerve in Jungkook’s body is lit ablaze, his thoughts bouncing wildly in his head as the realization he’ll get to spend the whole day with you alone dawns over him.

Despite the fact he’s known you for the past year, there’s still a lot of unknown mystery that surrounds you.

Well, not really a mystery.

Mostly just little things he wants to know about you, the woman who saved him when he was so alone and lost; the woman he feels himself growing more and more enamored with as the days go by.

From what he’s gathered, you were in a master’s program when the entity first appeared, living in a small town just outside the city. You had escaped the entity by sheer luck.

You were on a jog when it happened, you told him, headphones blasting when the calamity hit. Slowly, the world around you had crumbled, people falling victim to the madness and ending their lives before your very eyes. So terrified, you had dropped to the ground in a ball, sobbed to the soundtrack of some Top 50 playlist for hours amidst the dead bodies that littered the streets of your neighborhood. Until, eventually, the entity had left, losing your presence amongst all the death that surrounded you.

This was all something Jungkook had only learned about a few months ago, in a rare moment of vulnerability. That moment had been the only time you had ever laid your heart out like that, shared with him a piece of yourself. Ever since then, he was desperate to learn more.

Not wasting a second longer, Jungkook jumps headfirst into it. “Soooo, what’re we doing for your birthday this year?” He hums, peering down at your features.

You say nothing, eyes glancing furtively through the vast amounts of trees ahead of you for any signs of life. There’s no one out here, a fact both of you know, but he supposes it never hurts to be cautious. “You don’t know my birthday,” you remind him.

“How am I supposed to know it when you hide it away like it’s some mind blowing national secret?” He says cheekily. “I’ll tell you mine. It’s September first.”

Most men would feel discouraged by your lack of interest in the conversation, but not Jungkook. He’s grown used to your aloof exterior, finds it kind of endearing actually. After a moment, you pointedly announce, “Jungkook, I haven’t known what day it is for months now... birthdays practically mean nothing to me.”

“It’s June second,” he says right away, and his confidence surprises you if the way you pause is any indication. He stops beside you, tilts his head at your reluctant gaze.

“How would you know that?” You ask in disbelief, one hand on your hip. The semi-automatic pistol you have strapped to your waist bounces against your thigh. “We haven’t seen a calendar in months, and if we did, we wouldn’t even know what day it was.”

Jungkook shrugs. “It’s mostly just a guess,” he admits, pointing at a patch of pink flowers sprouting near the water. “Oleanders usually bloom at the end of spring. I’m surprised you didn’t know considering you named your little campgrounds after them,” he playfully jabs, crossing his arms over his chest as your eyes trail over toward the pink flowers beside your foot.

His heart falls straight out of his ass when you begin crouching down, fingers outstretched towards the flora. “They’re poisonous, you idiot,” he scolds, yanking you up by the elbow.

Jungkook can count on one hand the moments he’s truly left you flustered, and part of him is a little disappointed that it’s some stupid death flowers that make it onto the list. But your lips are adorably puckered, gaze flickering away from him in embarrassment at your slip up, and Jungkook can’t believe the hammering of his heart. “Oh,” you murmur, and then, impossibly quieter, “sorry.”

He sighs, quiets the thumping in his chest. After a moment, he throws a hand over your shoulders, guiding you back down the creek as if your little moment of stupidity didn’t just happen. “Wow, our brave leader sure is a dummy,” he exclaims, nearly faints at the small smile you hide from him.

“Shut up,” you retort, but there’s no malice in your words and you don’t push Jungkook’s arms away. “I’m bad at remembering which ones are harmful, okay? That’s more down Hoseok’s lane.” It certainly was down Hobi’s lane, considering the man had run a floral business prior to this catastrophe. Jungkook knows he’s the one who gave Oleander its name, at first just as a warning for the younger kids to avoid the flower, but it never hurts to tease you about it.

It’s little things like this that he treasures between the two of you, moments that nestle their way into the cracks of his heart. Not that you’ll ever understand.

The walk to the river ends up being shorter than he remembers, and after a few hours of bantering the tinkling trickle of the creek is replaced with the rapid currents ahead. “Where was it?” He asks, all traces of glee wiped from his face as he keeps his eyes focused on the tree line. He hears your telltale shuffling behind him as you retrace your steps, calculated steps that suddenly come to a halt. “Babe?” He calls out after a moment.

There’s a soft breeze in the air that ruffles his hair. It’s not the gust of wind that precedes the entity, but it still sets Jungkook on edge, hand reaching for his rifle.

A scuffle behind him causes him to whirl around, gun out and pointed at whatever made the sound, only to find you with a gun pressed to your temple. Jungkook swears.

Some guy he’s never seen before holds you captive, gloved palm pressed over your mouth uncomfortably, your hand clutching at his wrist. Jungkook takes comfort in the fact you at least put up a fight, matching the barrel against your forehead with a pistol to the guy’s neck. All in all, it’s pretty even on both ends. Well, not completely, Jungkook thinks, finger tightening on the trigger.

Before he can so much as think, there’s something prodding against his lower back, a low voice purring, “drop it, lover boy,” against his ear.

Knowing when he’s been outdone, Jungkook lowers his arms with a frustrated sigh, letting the guy that snuck up behind him tug the sack you carefully prepared off his shoulders and dump it onto the ground. He catches your gaze, dark eyes seeming to convey a message he doesn’t understand, not the least bit bothered by the man holding you at gunpoint. “Anything good?” The one holding you asks.

The one behind Jungkook steadies the weapon pressed to his back, nudges through the pile on the floor with his foot. “Some snacks, but nothing long lasting.”

The dark haired one cusses, tightening his hold on you. Jungkook wants nothing more than to lunge forward, tear the guy apart for laying his dirty hands on you. “Hey, lover boy,” he barks, and Jungkook’s glare only intensifies. “Where’d you find this stuff?”

Jungkook snorts. “I’m not telling you shit,” he spits, much to their dismay, and Jungkook groans when the one behind him slams the butt of his weapon against the back of his skull, sending him onto his knees. Another flurry of movement, and when his vision clears back up you’ve got your pistol pointed at the man behind Jungkook this time, leaving yourself completely defenseless against your captor. Jungkook curses at your recklessness.

Just once he wants you to put yourself first, value your life the same way he does. Now the both of you are left vulnerable, held at gunpoint by two men presumably from another camp.

“Well,” his attacker leers, “you sure managed to find yourself a good girl out here, huh?”

The second the words leave his mouth Jungkook knows they’re in for a show.

If there was one thing you hated more than anything in this fucked up world, it was being reduced to a man’s accessory. Anyone in Oleander could rave about how great you were—hell, Jungkook did it every chance he got. A lot of the Oleanderians held a lot of respect for you. You were their leader, a title they had pushed onto you until you accepted. To have your grueling efforts, your hard work, brushed aside because of your appearance enraged you like no other.

Just as he predicted, the flame in your gaze grows tenfold, the strength you’d been hiding coming out of the container you usually locked it up in. Your body moves swiftly, knocking back forcefully into your captor before leaning forward, using the hand on his wrist to haul him over your shoulder like a sumo wrestler. Neither of them see it coming, and in his shock, the dark haired one pulls his trigger, a bullet shooting into the ground with a loud crack.

The sound startles Jungkook and the other man but Jungkook capitalizes on their shock first, whirling around to meet the guy’s face for the first time, greeting him with a clenched fist. The intensity of his punch leaves the man recoiling, blindly stumbling back as Jungkook pushes on. When the man falls back, bloody nose and all, Jungkook reaches for his weapon, only to find a steel pipe in its place. Fuck, who were these conmen?

Eventually Jungkook corners him against the base of a tree, fuming at the fact these idiots had fooled him with empty threats, tricked him into thinking he was seriously in danger with a fucking scrap of metal.

Despite the way they had stealthily crept up on the two of you, these guys have neither the experience nor support to successfully pull off a stunt like this. This much is evident when he glances back and finds you wrestling the other guy’s arms behind his back. Following your example, he hauls his attacker up by the collar of his shirt, slamming him against the tree. “Who are you with?” He hisses, watching the guy squirm in his hold. “Who the fuck are you with?” He repeats, and the guy finally breaks.

“No one! No one. It’s just the two of us, me and Yoongi, no one else,” he rambles, and Jungkook glances back at you. You were significantly better than him at detecting lies, and one solemn nod from you has him releasing his grip, angrily kicking the damn piece of tubing far into the distance.

“So you’re strays,” you announce a few moments later, arms crossed over your chest in that famous power stance, eyes scanning over the figures of the two men Jungkook had pushed to their knees in front of you.

“Yes,” Jimin, the one who had originally attacked Jungkook, confirms. “It’s been just us two for a few months now.”

You let his answer sit for a few beats. “Where did you get this gun? This is the same one the Magnolia carry,” you state, and Jungkook wants to laugh at your stern approach, because just minutes ago you were fighting off a smile at his fourth knock knock joke. Instead, he schools his expression, gathering their things back into the sack Jimin had so lovingly dumped earlier.

Yoongi sighs, and Jungkook is extra wary of him, because it seems he is the one who orchestrated their little attack. “We attacked two of them. Took the gun and some other things before they could call for help. We’ve only had it for a few weeks now,” he confesses.

Jungkook snorts. These guys sure were brave, he thinks. One measly gun and they became bold enough to pull a stunt like this. If it were up to him he’d take their admittedly small resources and throw them back out into the forest with nothing for their half-assed efforts.

Sadly, it’s not. He watches you mull over their responses, can practically hear the invitation sitting on the tip of your tongue. It’s not the first time he’s found himself in a situation like this with you, your overwhelming need to invite nearly every stray you stumbled upon back to the O. In fact, he doesn’t think he’s ever seen you turn someone away.

Briefly he wonders if you had the same doubts as him. How many people constituted a functional society? They’d never know until the day the entity shows up. Until then, he knows you’ll keep taking strays in.

As predicted, the offer appears. “We have a place,” you begin, and Jungkook’s eyes can’t roll far back enough. Leave it to you to invite these half-assed clowns back to Oleander.

Silently, Jungkook walks off to sulk elsewhere, still mad that he’d let some idiot take advantage of his lack of sight to trick him into believing he had a gun to his back.

Later, when you’re wrapping up your extensive history of Oleander to these two strangers, you wander back towards where Jungkook’s been leaning against a tree. The two men follow behind tentatively, and you gesture for them to start up the creek bed, pointing toward the general direction of Oleander.

Jungkook levels you with an unimpressed glare, one you have no problem returning. “Really?” He drawls. “Inviting back the guys who tried to kill you?”

You ignore him, falling into step a few meters behind the two men. Jungkook follows. “They don’t have anywhere else to go,” you mention. “Besides, they’re not dangerous.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “Babe, these guys were willing to kill you over a bag of granola bars and water,” he emphasizes, throwing a glance their way. “You think they won’t try that at the O?”

You shrug. Jungkook could strangle you.

“Kook, one of them had a pipe. He can’t really kill you with that,” you remind him, as if he isn’t embarrassed enough. “They’re obviously smart guys,” you add, your arm brushing against his. “It wouldn’t hurt to have people who can think like that back at Oleander.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “I can get creative, too, y’know,” he huffs.

His childishness makes you snort, a small hand patting the small of his back comfortingly. “I know you can,” you smile. “But for every smart Kook idea, I have ten dumb Namjoon ideas. It would help to have someone else to balance them out.”

Placated, Jungkook lets it go. “I just want you to be careful, babe,” he murmurs, watching the two men ahead of him with caution.

Nodding along to his concern, you call out to the men to carry on left when you reach a break in the creek. “I know, and I’m always grateful to you for that,” you reply, the hand on his back drawing soothing circles. He hates how easily you can calm him down. “Just please trust in my decisions this once.”

It’s a cruel jab that makes his heart ache.

Jungkook doesn’t want you to think he questions your decisions as their leader, even if sometimes he does. He knows how stressful it is for you to have all these people depending on you, so he’ll never tell you you’re doing a bad job. Still, you have your moments where you’re a little too reckless, a little too careless.

Like today. If you had come out alone, Jungkook doesn’t know what these men would have done to you. He doesn’t like when you make decisions like that, sacrifice yourself for others like that, but he also doesn’t want to make you think you’re a bad leader, because you’re not. Just a little dumb sometimes.

Jungkook says nothing, sensing this is a losing battle. They trek back to Oleander in relative silence, a three hour walk that ends a little past sunset.

Jimin and Yoongi get the same golden welcome as every new person does at Oleander, with Hoseok cheerily showing them around the grounds and letting Seokjin check over their health. It’s the exact same process Jungkook went through when he first came here, and perhaps that’s why he feels so put off by the way you skirt around your discovery of them when Hoseok asks. You lie and say you found them on the way back from your training, not mentioning the fact they attacked you.

They end up moving into Namjoon’s tent, with Namjoon moving in with Jungkook. He doesn’t seem the least bit critical of Jimin and Yoongi, and Jungkook guesses no one besides him ever will.

With summer upon them, the seeds they planted last fall sprout beautifully. The chefs at the mess hall serve the most organic pizza Jungkook’s ever had, made in the clay oven Namjoon spent hours on last fall. He eats and leaves right away, ignoring his friends’ confused expressions when he skips out on their evening gossip session at the hall.

The tent feels smaller with Namjoon’s sleeping bag squeezed inside, his casual clothes and Jungkook’s blue tracksuit pushed against the opposite end of the tent.

He wonders how he’s supposed to jack himself off now that he doesn’t have his own private space. The longer he thinks, he realizes this current moment might be the last semblance of privacy he ever has, and scrambles to take advantage of the opportunity. His hand has just unbuckled his belt, the zipper on his pants halfway down, when you suddenly appear unannounced.

“Holy shit,” he yelps, covering his crotch with his hands. You pay him no attention, eyes flickering over the newly remodeled space. “Can you knock?!”

“Jungkook,” you say, dropping down to sit beside him on the ground. He hurries to close the front of his pants. “Are you upset with me?”

“No,” he drones, his last peaceful masturbation session slipping between his fingers. “I was actually quite horny before you broke in and gave me a heart attack.”

You frown, glancing at the front of his pants as if you’re just realizing you interrupted a very precious moment of his. “I didn’t realize,” you mumble apologetically, but Jungkook waves you off quickly.

“Forget it,” he sighs, leaning back on his palms. “What’s up with you, doll?” He asks instead, suddenly aware of the worried pinch between your brows, lips downturned as you regard him.

“Nothing,” you assure him, hands cutely folded into your lap. In another life, in another universe, he imagines you would have sat like that on a first date, fingers nervously fiddling with each other. “It’s just…” you hesitate, something he rarely sees you do. “I get the feeling you’re still upset with me for bringing Jimin and Yoongi back to Oleander,” you confess. “You skipped out on dessert.”

Frankly, he is.

Despite the talk you shared on the way back, Jungkook can’t help but feel bringing those two back was a bad idea.

Sure, they’ve encountered and invited other strays who’d reacted in similar states of distress, refusing to believe that sane, kind people still existed after the appearance of the entity. They’d lash out, hiss at Jungkook and the rest, until they reached a point in which they could calmly talk it through. People lose themselves after being in solitude for so long. Jungkook had only been alone for a little less than a month, and even then he remembers being terrified of you and the others.

But never had a stray pointed a gun at them, at you, and that’s what bothers Jungkook the most.

Part of him worries these guys aren’t the strays they claim to be, but masked members of another survivor camp here to take them over, kill them off. Realistically, they’re baseless worries. One of them is thin beyond belief, and the other had told them their whole life story the second they arrived back at the O. They don’t have that killer aura that the Magnolians have, and Jungkook wants to believe they by no means have the expertise to be specially trained assassins.

If anything, they’re just really cunning strays who happened to draw a lucky card when they got that gun.

On top of that uncertainty was the worry that stemmed from your actions both today and for the past year if he’s being honest.

He’s never questioned your motives for bringing someone back to the haven before, usually trusting in you to do what’s right. After all, Jungkook was hardly the poster boy of moral decisions, so he always left that up to you.

That being said, he feels… disappointed by your lack of logical thinking today. He understands that Yoongi and Jimin are just doing what they can to get by, something he would’ve done too if he was alone. But Jungkook isn’t as forgiving and empathetic as you, which is probably why he feels like this.

“I don’t think it was a good idea,” he admits, listening to the quiet inhale you draw in at his admission. “I get that they’re strays and all… I just think you need to be more careful.” It’s rich coming from him, probably the least cautious person at the base.

You nod, the same understanding one you’d given him on the trip back.

Jungkook knew you had a tender heart. You and Hoseok both did, hence the reason you established Oleander in the first place. Admittedly, Hoseok is even worse than you, which is the main reason he doesn’t go out on scavenging trips, choosing to keep watch over the people they already have.

Before you can reiterate your reasoning from the afternoon, Jungkook cuts you off. He catches your hand, turns it over to knot your fingers with his. “Babe, I need you to take care of yourself first,” he says, watches the befuddled expression that crosses your features.

You blink. “I do?” You defend, and it’s so weak Jungkook could cry.

He sighs, squeezes your hand in his. “You don’t,” he feels a little weird explaining the state of your thoughts to, well, you. “I get that you wanna keep everyone here safe, but what about yourself?”

You say nothing. The quiet bustling of the base outside fills the silence between you.

Jungkook looks away first, choosing to stare a hole into the tent walls before him. “I know you have this huge responsibility on you and that it’s a lot of pressure, __,” he murmurs quietly. “But it’s okay to ask for help, y’know?”

Beside him, your knees curl up into your chest, chin resting on them. You don’t let go of his hand, so he takes it as a sign to continue.

“What’s happening is scary,” he admits. “But you’re not going through this alone. I want you to tell me when things become too much for you,” he emphasizes.

The amount of times he’s seen you stretch yourself thin for this place was unreal. Jungkook liked Oleander as much as the next person, but occasionally he’d get hit with doubts. What would they do once the entity found them? Jungkook thinks he’d run. He’d take you and run far away, leaving this whole place behind. He’ll never tell you this, though, because he knew you loved Oleander too much. And if you didn’t, the responsibilities that tied you to it would never let you abandon the people like that anyway.

From between his fingers, he can feel your hand trembling. His heart throbs painfully in his chest. Jungkook wishes he could freeze this moment in time, keep the two of you inside this tent away from the crumbling world around you. In another life, in another universe, he reminds himself.

Eventually you let out a shaky exhale, eyes burning into the side of Jungkook’s face until he returns your gaze. Ever so quietly, you murmur, “Kook, I’m so scared.”

It’s the quietness of your confession, like you’re afraid admitting as much will lessen your credibility, that has him leaning forward, forehead knocking against yours gently.

“Oh, baby,” he frowns, doesn’t say a word when you throw yourself into his arms. Your face finds its home buried in the front of his shirt, shoulders shaking. He rubs your back soothingly, the same way you do to him every time he’s riled up, listening to the quiet sniffles that escape you.

“I don’t want people to get hurt,” you cry, your voice small and muffled against the front of his shirt.

His heart falters in his chest, suddenly realizing how small you are curled up in his arms. He can’t even begin to imagine the expression on your face, one you still hide from him, but he guesses it’s nothing less than glossy eyes and puffy face.

For the second time in the past year Jungkook’s known you, he gets a peek into your frail interior. A brief glance to see the woman who had watched the world around her crumble, all alone amidst wave after wave of deaths.

The city had been a horrible sight to see, but at least there he’d been comforted by the fact he was with a group of people he’d known and escaped with. It had been the first of many instances. For you, he can’t even fathom how you managed to pull yourself from the wreckage, maintain yourself until you found Hoseok.

“I’m sorry,” you choke, voice but a thin whisper he barely catches. He brushes you off, leaning his chin on the crown of your head as he continues to rub your back.

Eventually, you calm down.

The trembling of your body slows, and your muted cries disappear. When you lean away, Jungkook keeps his hands on your shoulders. Your eyes are still coated in a thin sheen of tears, the skin around flushed. Jungkook runs a knuckle along your cheekbone, following a faint trail of tears.

You rub the heel of your hand against your eye as you regain your composure. You don’t meet his eyes, but Jungkook doesn’t push. “Thank you, Jungkook,” you tell him, sniffling one last time. “I… really needed that.”

“Of course,” he murmurs, suddenly aware of how close you are. He could lean in and kiss you, but he doesn’t want you to think he’s taking advantage of your emotions. So he doesn’t.

You pat his cheek gently. He leans into the touch, eyes flickering over your bashful expression. “You were amazing today, Kook,” you quietly praise, and he’s never felt this light before. His cheeks flush red, the warmth slowly creeping up his face at your compliment.

Something in Jungkook has him leaning forward, puckered lips pressing against your temple. It’s only when his plush lips meet the skin of your forehead that he suddenly becomes aware of his actions. He stills, tries to find the perfect moment to pull away that will still make it seem friendly.

When his brain has dipped itself into frying oil three times over, it’s you who leans back with a soft smile on your features. You pat his knee once before standing up. “Actually, I heard something interesting today,” you mention, completely ignoring the redness of his face. “Follow me?”

“Anywhere,” he murmurs as he trails after you, passing the rowdy mess hall and the occasional group wandering about the grounds. Eventually you lead him into Seokjin’s medical tent, where Namjoon seems to be interrogating the hell out of Jimin. “What’s going on?” he asks, gaining everyone’s attention, and you motion towards where Jimin is babbling away.

“There they are,” Seokjin claps, “two experiments from the same lab.”

Jungkook flicks him on the forehead as he walks in, ignoring the sharp calling of his name coming from your mouth. “Not a lab experiment,” he defends, not that Seokjin cares. He squeezes around Jin, coming to stand beside Namjoon. Jimin is very quiet in his presence, probably still reflecting on their first meeting. Good, Jungkook thinks, he could drown in his guilt for all he cares.

“This guy says he knows where the new Magnolian base is set up,” Namjoon fills him in, eyeing Jimin. Jungkook doesn’t doubt it, after all, that’s apparently where they got their weapons from. Not that anyone besides you and Jungkook know that. “You believe him?”

Jungkook shrugs. He doesn’t know what to say, because none of you really suspected anyone would ask about Jimin and Yoongi’s origins after the lame story you had made up earlier. Jimin, it seems, is more of a chatterbox than he thought.

“I’m telling you, man,” he whines. “Me and Yoongs saw the damn camp. That’s where we—“

“-Were running from,” you intercept. Jungkook rolls his eyes at your feeble attempts at keeping a secret that was inevitably going to be found out. “Jimin and Yoongi were running from there when we found them.”

Jimin nods frantically. “It’s about twenty miles from here.”

Namjoon nods along, looking deep in thought as he ponders on what exactly that means for Oleander.

Jungkook can help. Basically, it means this: Magnolia setting up a camp in close range of Oleander can only be a result of one of two things:

Either they, A, are unaware that Oleander is in close range and most likely settled due to the various water sources around this area. When they eventually find its current inhabitants, they’ll undoubtedly attack on sight.

Or B, they have caught wind of Oleander’s presence here and have promptly come to, you guessed it, kill them all off just because they can. In both scenarios, Oleander remains at great risk, and everyone in the tent knows this.

“So now what?” He says more than asks, sensing they’ve all more or less reached the same conclusion.

Your foot taps against the ground, lower lip pulled taut between your teeth as you work through a dozen plans in your head.

Namjoon, ever the “wise man”, jumps to the forefront. “We have to do something about their base,” he says.

Jungkook laughs at that, plopping down beside Jimin. “Yeah, let’s just go run up on some psychos with no moral compass and kill them before they kill us. Except, wait—“ he exclaims with a little staged gasp, before leveling Namjoon with the most bored stare he can muster. “None of us have the guts to kill someone.”

Namjoon is very obviously flustered by Jungkook’s dry jab, looking at you to defend him. Jungkook simply brushes off the disapproving frown you send him.

“And when they realize we won’t kill them, guess what, guys?” he asks no one in particular, mimes someone breaking his neck. “We’re dead.”

Silence falls over the medical tent at his blunt descriptions.

Jungkook knows he’s being annoyingly pessimistic, but he can’t help it. His first encounter with Magnolia had left him bleeding at the mouth, body aching for weeks. Occasionally, he has nightmares about that day, about what would happen if you and your friends hadn’t shown up. In most of them, Jungkook’s mind conjures up violent scenes of his death.

You suck in a sharp breath that catches everyone’s attention. Straightening your spine, you step back into the middle of the space, hands on your hips like a superhero. “As much as I hate to admit it, Jungkook is right.” He grins in satisfaction. “Even if they’re not part of our community, I’m sure having too many people congregated in the same area will draw the Thing‘s attention.” Finally, some logical thinking. “But,” you suddenly add, snatching that cocky smirk straight off his face. “That being said, I think it’s best if we look for ways to—“

“No,” he cuts off, surprising everyone in the room with his curt tone. He never outwardly disagreed with you before, always hyped up your ideas like you were the greatest person alive. You were in his eyes, but there was some plans even Jungkook thought were stupid. And given the fact this would be your second stupid plan of the day, he’s more than happy to go against you in front of the others. “It’s stupid.”

“Hey,” Seokjin chides, leveling him with a cold glare he hasn’t seen in a while. “Let her speak.”

“No,” Jungkook repeats, turning his attention back to you. You don’t look the slightest bit pleased with him, and he already knows this will lead to days of you ignoring him like the time he and some of the guys snuck down to the creek after curfew one night. “Baby, going there is reckless—you know this,” he emphasizes, can’t help the gentle way he explains this to you like you’re nothing but a child.

“You haven’t even heard my idea,” you snap angrily. It takes every nerve in Jungkook’s body to keep him from crumbling beneath your hardened gaze. He hates when you look at him like that. “You won’t even let me say what I’m thinking, but you already think it’s stupid.”

“Because it is!” he yells, startling the other men in the tent. “Someone could get seriously hurt, and you know this,” he seethes, suddenly feeling like that whole heart-to-heart moment at his tent meant nothing to you. He deflates, rubs at his temples as if to rid him of the headache pounding behind his skull. “Doll, these are the Magnolians,” he murmurs. “They won’t just threaten you with a gun like Yoongi and Jimin, they will kill you on the spot.”

There’s a shared look of surprise between Seokjin and Namjoon at the news, and Jimin shifts nervously beside him. Jungkook could care less about his slip up, too engrossed in the way your lips pinch up indignantly.

“Fine,” you sneer. “Whatever we do, I’ll make sure to leave you off the list.” And with that, you’re exiting the tent with an angry tug against the door flaps.

A beat of silence as they all stare after you in shock. Jungkook has never been left off the list of scavengers.

“Kook,” Seokjin goes to soothe him, but he's already slipping out of the tent, eyes wildly scanning over the dark perimeter of the base in search of you. He finds you stomping in the direction of your tent, a small thing pressed against the side of the armory.

The ache in his knee be damned as he sprints across the clearing, narrowly avoiding the people who are still out. He catches you just as you duck inside, tearing the flap of your tent wide open.

You jump in surprise, but quickly pull on an expression of annoyance as he towers over you, arms crossing over your chest defensively.

“What did you say?” he seethes, letting the flap fall shut behind him, shrouding the two of you in darkness.

“I said you’re off the list,” you snap without missing a beat, anger rolling off you in waves. “Since you hate my ideas so much, your ass can stay here.”

Jungkook exhales loud and hard, stepping closer to you until you’re nose to nose. “I’m not off the fucking list,” he announces, jaw twitching. You go to retort, pushing him away with a palm flat on his chest that he catches in a flash, tugging you forward until you’re stumbling into his chest. You gape in shock at the hand that tightens around your waist, Jungkook’s steely eyes aiming to pierce into your soul. “If you wanna be stupid and break into the Magnolia base that’s fine by me,” he hisses, “but don’t think for a second I’d ever let you go without me, understood?”

You struggle in his arms. “I never said I wanted that,” you snarl, pushing yourself off and away from him. “But you wouldn’t know that because you wouldn’t even listen to me.”

Jungkook’s arms tighten around your waist, refusing to let you run straight into the hands of danger. “Maybe I would listen if you weren’t always trying to off yourself,” he barks, narrowly avoiding your elbow when you begin flailing in his arms.

“Jungkook— let me go!” you huff, growing more upset the longer he holds on to you. “I don’t wanna talk to you right now.”

He ignores you.

But he greatly underestimated your strength, which ends up being a huge mistake. He had watched you toss Yoongi over your shoulder just this afternoon, so he should’ve known better than anyone about the adrenaline-fueled feats you can do when you’re riled up.

You still, deluding him into thinking you’ve calmed down enough for him to loosen his grip. It’s in that tiny moment of weakness that you strike, wrapping your arms around his waist and throwing the two of you to the side. Luckily, you’re not blinded by fury enough to destroy your own tent, and end up slamming him against the wooden wall of the armory that sits flush to one side of your tent.

“Holy shit,” he gasps, the intensity of the push having a bounce back effect. He staggers forward, arms still around your waist, until the both of you stumble into the ground in a mess of limbs. You yelp at the heavy weight of his body on you, and Jungkook only has half a mind to roll off. “Oh fuck,” he groans, rubbing the back of his head.

The way you’d surged the two of you, him backwards, into the wall had left him vastly unprepared, skull slamming painfully into the wood. That on top of the good thwack Jimin had given him earlier with the pipe had his vision spotting now.

“Jungkook?” you call, shuffling to your knees over him, all traces of anger gone as worry floods over you.”Jungkook, oh my god,” you choke, sitting him up slowly, but given the fragile state of his head it seems fast anyway. The movement makes his head spin like a carousel. He’ll definitely need to see Seokjin for this. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I didn’t think you’d hit your head,” you cry, fluttering around your tent for something to give him. “Here, drink this,” you intrude, thrusting a water bottle into his hand.

He takes it in one hand, rolling his head around once. “Shit, babe, calm down. I’m not dying,” he cracks, though it ends in a groan. He definitely needed to sleep this off.

His joke only makes you more upset, and you lean forward to brush his hair from his face until your beautifully bothered expression is looking down over him. “No,” you groan, “please don’t try to make me feel better. That was a horrible thing for me to do.”

You tug him to his feet, Jungkook wincing at the sudden motion. “Yeah, that was pretty shitty,” he agrees, letting you throw an arm over your shoulders as you guide him out of the tent.

In all honesty the pain had subsided the second he’d sat up. Now he was just left with a slight pounding behind his temples, like a headache on steroids, but he played soccer his whole life; he knows when an injury was serious. This just seems like a mild concussion at most.

Still, that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to milk every second of this. He leans into your side, your arm tightening around his waist.

“You know what’s even more shitty, though?” he prompts. You hum, more concerned with getting him to the safety of his tent. The base is mostly silent now, and the forest surrounding the camp is eerily dark. All the squirrels and rabbits they see during the day have gone to sleep, the only sound being that of the occasional owl hoot. The only people Jungkook sees are the ones on night duty sporadically standing around the perimeter of Oleander. Jungkook doesn’t answer right away, lets you sit in suspense, before announcing, “leaving someone off the list.”

You groan, finally stopping inside his tent. Upon getting closer, he’s reminded of his new roommate waiting for him inside, loud snores surely keeping everyone in a twenty foot radius awake. “I’m sorry,” you frown, moving to stand in front of him. The weight of your apology feels like you’re sorry for multiple things at once. Normally he would press, but you look like you’re about to cry just from upsetting Jungkook. For some reason he gets some twisted excitement from seeing you so torn up over him.

He shakes his head, lets the hair you pushed off his forehead fall back into place. “Don’t worry about it,” he assures you, reaching up to cup the side of your face like you did to him earlier. You lean into the touch, covering his hand with your own. Jungkook’s heart swells.

How could such a pretty little thing be this reckless? he thinks, watching the lashes that tickle your skin with every blink. “Go to bed, doll,” he commands, and you nod cutely, like a bobblehead. “Be stupid again tomorrow.”

He’s rewarded with a soft kick against his shin, a tiny smile curling around your features. “Okay,” you concede, fingers tracing over his knuckles as he finally pulls away. You watch him get into his tent, stay put until he’s glancing at you through the flaps to get moving. “Goodnight, Jungkook,” you make sure to say, waving goodbye as you begin walking back in the direction you came from.

It would’ve been the perfect night, mild concussion and all, if he had been able to truly savor your expressions that day. Instead, he goes to bed with a half hard cock and a snoring bear beside him.

#goldenclosetnet #networkbangtan #ksmutclub #jungkook smut #jungkook fic #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook fic #jjk smut #mine #ahHHHHHHH!!!!!

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mx-sfthrs · 5 years

Text

mafia au - changkyun

a/n: this is a mafia au except i’ve never read one but i have seen brooklyn 99 and other various detective shows so i did my best lmao. also this is goofy as hell haha sorry word count 650

warnings: i use more bad words in this than i usually do and also there's the use of a gun to kill someone

you were hiding behind some crates in a dark warehouse. mafialeader!changkyun currently had someone from your rival gang tied up at gunpoint and things really didn't seem like they were going well for him.

you had been sent to get him out but changkyun had seen right through the diversion that the other two people from your gang had created, causing you to stop trying to free the other guy and hide.

"... and the best part about this, is that girl who was trying to escape with you actually thinks i have no idea that she's here"

as soon as he finished his sentence two very large men came up from behind you and dragged you out into the open

you were trying your best to squirm free but you knew it was no use, these guys were huge.

changkyun spun around on his heel

"well, well, well..." he turned his neck back around to your partner "she's a pretty little thing, isn't she?"

he turned back and began to slowly walk closer. figuring out that the squirming was just wasting your energy, you figure you'd stop. once you stilled though, you saw your guy slowly but surely sawing through his restraints. you snapped back to him when the tip of his nose touched yours

"now tell me doll, did you really think i wouldn't find that razor blade you slipped this dumbass? hm?"

'well, you didn't find the second one. dumbass' you thought as you looked over changkyun's shoulder to see that your partner had freed his hands and was working on his legs

"whatcha looking at? do you think that i'm pretty too, hm?"

"you wish."

"or..." he leaned towards your ear, dragging his lips across your cheek as he did, dropping his voice to a whisper "is it the idiot behind me trying to escape"

your eyes went wide and your heart fell to your stomach. before you could do anything he cocked his gun and shot your partner right between the eyes without breaking eye contact with you

"what the fuck was that???"

he gave a look to the guys holding you and they let you go. you turn to try and run away but changkyun grabbed your arm, turned you around, and held you flush to him by your back belt loop

"i'm sorry sweetheart, but i can't let you go" he brought his loaded gun to the side of your head "or i'll have to blow your brains out"

“do whatever you want to me. at least i’ll die knowing that i have better breath than you.”

his face fell and he looked genuinely offended

“i’m sorry, what?”

“i said what i said” you smirked “stank ass bitch”

you had honestly forgotten that you were at gunpoint until he removed the barrel from your temple and started laughing

“you know what, i like you baby girl. you got guts”

“like me enough to let me go?” you questioned

“no, like you enough to make you my right hand man”

if you went back to your old gang with nothing but three dead man your leader would just make it four anyways. plus you knew better, changkyun wasn’t giving you a choice

“so, what do ya say, like what you see?”

he stepped back, moved his hand to your side belt loop, and motioned for you to check him out

you scoffed and rolled your eyes

“can i offer you some gum and you can check back with me in 10 minutes?”

“is that a yes doll face?”

you took the gun out of your boot and slid it over to the other two men

“i’m all yours, dick wad. feel free to pat me down”

as soon as your stuck your arms out you both heard the faint sounds of police sirens

“let’s save that for later tonight, in private.” he winked “right now we gotta run, get away car’s out back. follow me.”

#damn i never rlly got the hype for the mafia au but damn this was fun #monsta x #scenario #angst #mafia au #request #neutralbebe

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imagineproduce101 · 7 years

Text

Ahn Hyeongseop Mafia AU

you were a college student, just trying to get your degree

you knew of ahn hyeongseop because you shared your business management 201 class with him

he was handsome, you had to give him that, but he also came across as a bit of an asshole?

he never talked to anyone except for his friend euiwoong, and one time when you’d accidentally bumped into him, he shoved you away quickly

like dude what’s your problem

anyways back to you

as a college student, you were already broke

but your family was also not financially stable, and you had a job, but most of the money went to your family

the small apartment that you rented was in a bad part of the city

your friends, who were all better-off, offered to help you but you were too prideful to accept someone’s pity

one night, you were leaving your apartment for work on a friday night, about 8 pm

you were locking the door to your apartment when you heard a loud bang from the building next to yours

the building housed a club that you knew also dealt with drugs and sex trafficking

as you were leaving the building to head out to the main street where your bus stop was, you froze

ahn hyeongseop was exiting the building, a spray of a dark crimson liquid spattered on the front of his crisp white shirt, tucking a black object into the waistband of his nice slacks

you must have whimpered or something, because his head whipped around to face you, eyes piercingly intense

you bowed quickly and raced off, fear thrumming through your veins

all through your shift that night, you kept replaying that scene of hyeongseop exiting the club with blood on his shirt

you trudged home slowly, pondering what it meant

you knew that 101, the area’s crime syndicate, was powerful-- maybe he worked for them?

you’d heard about what happened to people who witnessed the 101′s crimes, and you became slightly paranoid, glancing over your shoulder as you walked from the bus stop to your apartment

you quickly took out your keys, eager to get inside

you noticed that the mat in front of your door was messed up and you frowned, straightening it before hurrying inside the apartment

“sorry to do this, (y/n),” someone said quietly before your covering your mouth and nose in a rag, soaked with a sweet-smelling, icy cold liquid

you struggled, reaching your hand up to tug the hand away to no prevail

you felt your eyelids and tongue growing heavier, thoughts blurring into each other

you felt your knees buckle and you crumpled to the floor

as your eyes fluttered shut, you felt someone catch you, and you could have sworn you saw ahn hyeongseop’s concerned face

when you came to, you were sitting in a rickety metal chair

three guys sat across from you-- hyeongseop on one side, some girl on the other, and a face you’d seen one too many times-- kang daniel, the heir to 101, the reigning mob

“so. (y/n),” the girl said, tossing a file of pictures and official documents onto the metal table

your eyes darted between the three people, resting on hyeongseop’s downcast face

if you didn’t know any better, you’d say he looked almost guilty

“huge financial issues,” the girl continued, setting out a few documents-- your family’s tax papers, your dad’s hospital bills, the federal documents that helped you pay for college

“and your poor dad,” daniel clicked his tongue, “he really needs to stay at the hospital, doesn’t he?”

“don’t talk about my father,” you snapped, lifting your chin defiantly

daniel chuckled, setting something on the table

the sight of a gun, matte black, heavy, made your mouth dry

“(y/n), you have two options,” daniel said, picking the gun up slowly

out of the corner of your eye, you could see hyeongseop swallow

“one,” he said, loading the gun with a smooth ‘click’, “i point, aim and shoot. quite messy, lots of cleanup.”

suddenly, you were staring down the barrel of a military-issue handgun

“two,” he continued, pulling the gun away from your third eye to examine it casually, “you join the 101.”

“like hell i’m joining the fucking mafia,” you snapped, jolting in your seat. in the corner of your eye, you saw hyeongseop stare at you, wide-eyed

daniel stared at you, eyes steely, “(y/n), i’m giving you another chance, only because hyeongseop seems to like you. i normally don’t do this. we’ll make your decision easier.”

hyeongseop set a briefcase on the table, its heaviness making the metal table thud

he clicked it open to review bricks of money in cash

“accept, and you walk away with your life and the ability to care for your family. you won’t have to work a job anymore, and we’ll double your current pay”

your jaw tightened, contemplating your options-- die or join the mafia and save your family?

you reached out to accept the gun that daniel was offering, your hands curling around the icy cold metal

hyeongseop’s knuckles turned white

you get placed on the intel team, or as everyone in 101 seems to call them, “the sprouts”--apparently they’re called that due to their collective young age

instead of going to work, you head to the 101 hq, and you spend most of your time watching cctv videos of government officials to make sure they’re not doing anything fishy

euiwoong, who turns out to be a member of 101 as well, is the leader of the sprouts, is kind, and you’re surprised how good at leading he is despite him being younger than you

you and hyeongseop develop something akin to a friendship, and you spend most of your time working with him or euiwoong

at uni, euiwoong and hyeongseop greet you know, causing a lot of people to wonder how you became friends with people so cold as them

hyeongseop checks up on you, and one time when you had to skip ‘work’ due to a cold, he even brought you soup, smiling happily when you thanked him

you could tell that you were starting to develop feelings for him, but you tried to ignore it, knowing that he was bad news

but still, your initial impression of him being cold was totally disproved, his puppy-like, quirky attitude soon surfacing

you’d seen the boy down four raw eggs like they were fucking tequila shots-- he wasn’t ‘mr. cold guy’ in your mind anymore

you fit into the sprouts’ dynamic easily, becoming friends with all of them, joking around easily

justin huang, another ‘sprout’ seems to really like you as well, and it almost seemed like he was flirting with you?

tbh it was hard to tell bc justin was so flirty, and you two had become friends

but he would wink at you and such, and you confirmed that he was doing something when, after he got your number, he started sending you shirtless selcas

(is this not something justin huang would 100% do)

one time, you were arriving to the sprouts room (such a dorky name for a team of dorks LOLOLOL) when you heard people arguing

“you don’t own her, hyung,” you heard justin snap

“i didn’t say i fucking owned her,” hyeongseop replied angrily, “i’m saying that i don’t want you flirting with her”

“guys, guys, this isn’t worth it,” euiwoong yelled, trying to quiet the boys down

“just because you’re like, in fucking love with her doesn’t mean that i can’t pursue her,” justin shouted “this isn’t middle school, hyung.”

“but you’re not pursuing her,” hyeongseop yelled, “i know you, you’d get her in bed and dump her the next day! i’m not gonna let you hurt her like that”

“you do do that, justin,” seunghyuk commented dryly

“oh, stay out of this”

“justin, don’t talk to your hyungs like that,” zheng ting said sharply

deciding that you’d definitely heard enough, you knocked on the door, barging in

“hyeongseop, let’s talk,” you said, glaring at the younger

“(y/n)!” euiwoong glanced between you and hyeongseop worridly, but you were more focused on hyeongseop

the two of you went to a smaller room and you faced him, crossing your arms

“(y/n),” he said hesitantly, “i’m sorry you had to hear that.”

“why are you fighting with justin about this?” you asked with a sigh, leaning against the wall, “it’s not worth it, and you know it. you guys are friends.”

he looked down at you stubbornly, “he shouldn’t be saying stuff about you like that.”

you rolled your eyes, gesturing back to the room, “make up with justin and then we can go on a date”

he immediately perked up, smiling widely at you, “wait, really?”

“go,” you replied, pushing him back towards the room

you had to go deliver a file to daniel and seongwoo, so you weren’t sure what exactly what happened, but that night, hyeongseop walked you home

as he waited for you to duck inside your apartment, you spun around, kissing him lightly on the lips

his eyes widened, looking down at you as he stammered awkwardly

“(y/n), I’m sorry that I couldn’t confess to you cutely.”

“aw, you’re cute anyways”

it occurred to me that when the yuehua sprouts debut and gain fans who weren’t around during pd101, they’ll have no idea what the eggslurping meme is...

....and then it’ll become the “you got no jams” of the yuehua sprouts fandom and we’ll all be begging stans to stop making eggslurper memes lmao

#produce 101 #produce 101 imagine #produce 101 scenario #produce 101 oneshot #produce 101 fanfiction #yuehua next #yuehua next imagine #yuehua sprouts #yuehua sprouts imagine #anh hyeongseop #ahn hyeongseop imagine #ahn hyeongseop scenario #ahn hyeongseop oneshot

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awesomesockes · 7 years

Text

Common Ground

Summary: As the dirt walls of his half-dug foxhole collapse in front of him, Officer Cadet Daniel Howell finds himself face-to-face with another soldier. To make matters worse, this one is wearing a German uniform.

Or:

In which Dan and Phil have a rather unorthodox meeting when their foxholes collide.

A/N: this fic (code name: craig) is an idea i’ve had for quite a while, maybe years, and here it is! finally… always good with some historical aus amiright?? i really really like it and i hope you will too (please i need love) also thanks to bethany for writing in the boob-hand-motion. i guess you’ll have to read it to laugh with us lmao

Genre: Historical (WWI), fluff, humour-ish. Warnings: Mentions of blood, war themes. Words: 2371

Common Ground

After stretching his body and throwing his head back for what felt like the millionth time that night, the sun was finally starting to rise. The sky slowly began changing colour to a beautiful mix between blue and orange, and he was once again able to see his breath in the frosty air. Hard to believe he’d ever be grateful to see that again.

In those early dawn hours, the world seemed awfully quiet. Only the sound of his own shovel hitting the ground echoed in the silence. Every strike of the tool burned his palms as he continued to move the heavy, half-frozen dirt from one side of the foxhole to the other in a never ending motion.

In another hour, they’d start shooting again, and all memories of the morning stillness would quickly be forgotten.

So there he was—Officer Cadet Daniel James Howell, serial number 0945065, only eighteen years old—standing knee-deep in muddy water, contemplating the irony of how the hole he was currently digging for protection from the enemy also had the distinct possibility of becoming his own grave. He couldn’t help but smile at how ridiculous it all was.

Just as that thought crossed his mind, the dirt walls came crashing down around him. They landed in the water surrounding his feet, causing mud to splash up and cover the few remaining clean spaces he had left on his uniform. The dirt found its way into his mouth and nose, and he had to cough a few times before registering what had just happened.

At first, he figured he’d just hit an unstable part in the soil to cause the collapse, but then he saw the tip of a boot sticking out from under the mud, and his heart began pounding in his ears.

Dan stared down at the man who had just appeared before him and was now scrambling to free himself from under the pile of dirt. “Looking for something?” Dan asked hoarsely, brushing off his sleeves.

In a moment, the other man was free of the mud and had leapt to his feet. His hands were now fumbling around near his hip. Dan, who was still squinting from the dirt in his eyes, suddenly found himself with a gun pointed at him. His hands flew up into the air.

“Wow, hey. If you shoot that thing, it won’t be just the two of us. People will be swarming here in seconds. You understand what I’m saying?” Dan tried desperately, backing away from the broken wall that stood between them.

The stranger was covered in dirt from head to toe. Like looking in a mirror, Dan took in the sight before him. The same mud, the same freezing water, the same miserable expression. Even their breaths were synchronized.

“Leutnant Philip Michael Lester, 52067,” the soldier spat out, loud and clear. “Stehe bleiben.”

“I wasn’t tryi-”

“Ruhe! Und legen Sie die Schaufel auf den Boden!” Philip said in a commanding tone, nodding towards the shovel Dan was holding above his head in surrender.

“Oh, sorry.” He dropped the shovel, which quickly sank to the bottom of the knee-deep water and disappeared. “Do you speak English? Er… Englisch?”

“A little,” came a shaky reply.

“Great…” Dan mumbled, mostly to himself, and maintained eye contact with his new “friend”.

Silence fell upon them as the sun continued to rise, finally high enough to shine into their, now shared, foxhole.

“You’re bleeding,” Dan pointed out nervously, breaking eye contact to look at the dirty wound along the other’s hairline. Blood was slowly trickling down his forehead and mixing with the mud on his cheek.

The soldier blinked in confusion and slowly moved his left hand from the pistol to the side of his head. An expression of surprise was clearly painted on his face. Dan gradually lowered his arms back to his sides.

“Hände hoch!” the German suddenly yelled, sending Dan jumping backwards, almost tripping over his own feet, with the feeling of his heart leaving his chest.

“I don’t know what that means!” he pleaded.

“Äh… hands up!”

Dan instantly complied. Once again they were standing face to face in silence, breathing heavily.

“We can’t stand here all day. I’m unarmed, I swear.” Glancing over his shoulder Dan caught a glimpse of his rifle, which was standing at least fifteen feet behind him in the foxhole.

Unarmed. That seemed to be the key word. Before Dan got the chance to say anything else, the German collapsed backwards onto a pile of dirt with his head leaning against the side of the trench. All colour had left his face, though he still held the gun in one hand.

Dan exhaled heavily and started running his fingers through his already messy hair, only now realising how much he was shaking as the adrenalin was leaving his body. He glanced over at his neighbour, who seemed to be in the same state.

“I can help you with that. The bleeding. Hilfe?” Dan moved carefully towards the collapsed part of the foxhole. Stepping over the pile of dirt meant stepping into hostile territory. Even though the situation seemed to have calmed, that simple act was enough to set him on edge again.

“Philip, right?”

“Phil, Bitte.” Some colour seemed to have returned to his cheeks since he’d sat down.

“I guess I’m Dan.” Dan pulled out a partly clean handkerchief from his chest pocket and tossed it over to Phil.

“Danke,” he slurred in response, accepting the piece of cloth with shaky fingers.

Dan leaned his head back and took a few deep breaths, finally regaining some control over his own body after the shock of having a loaded gun pointed at his head by the presumed enemy.

“Beautiful morning, huh?” He rubbed his hands together briskly, trying to get some feeling back in them. The black gloves he wore stopped short of covering his fingertips—perfect for gripping the shovel, but lousy for keeping warm. He cupped his hands over his mouth and exhaled hot air into them.

“I do not know about that,” Phil snorted. “Cold.”

“I guess you’re right. I haven’t been able to feel my feet since September.”

“Me neither.” A small smile became visible across Phil’s lips.

The cloth was more red than brown by now, as Phil’s injury continued to bleed. Head wounds always bled an alarming amount; even before the horrors Dan had seen in his past nine months fighting on the frontlines, he’d known that.

Dan watched as the other soldier retrieved a small first aid kit from his chest pocket. It mainly contained gauze, but that would do.

“What do you suggest we do?” Dan asked quietly, still processing what had just occurred. The odds of two foxholes meeting were miniscule, and yet here they were. Two sides of the war, standing in the same pit.

“Cover it up and not speak of it again,” Phil mumbled from his side.

Dan nodded in agreement and started searching for his shovel in the icy mud.

This soldier wasn’t much like Dan had expected. Then again, he didn’t really know what he had expected his first face to face meeting with the enemy would be like. But it sure wasn’t this. Phil seemed much more human than the rumours would have him believe. At least more so than anyone Dan had encountered in no man’s land. Although, everyone was.

“If we start from that side…” Phil suggested, and pointed to Dan’s right with the hand that wasn’t trying to contain the bleeding. “Normally I would have a work plan…”

“We have to move that side first, or it’ll continue to collapse.” Dan pointed at the opposite wall. “See that hole there?”

“Nein,” Phil sighed heavily. “The heavy frozen dirt must be at the bottom. You start over there.”

“Why are Germans always so commanding?” Dan mumbled under his breath, but he began moving the dirt Phil had indicated.

“Why are the English always so messy?” came a quick reply.

Surprised that Phil had even heard Dan muffled words, the Englishman looked up, only to meet two determined eyes. “Even your cars give up half way.”

Dan stopped digging and tightened his grip around the shovel’s handle. “At least you can stand to look at our cars,” he spat back.

“Maybe I should just declare you prisoner of war. This would be much easier.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

“I have the gun, yes?” Phil reminded.

“And I have this shovel.” Dan kicked the end with his boot. “You don’t look much like you’d use that gun anyway.”

A fresh wave of anger seemed to come over the German and once again, Dan was staring down the barrel of a gun. Phil’s hands shook even more than the first time as he fumbled with the pistol.

In one quick motion, Phil raised the gun straight up toward the sky and pulled the trigger.

Dan shut his eyes and covered his ears, yet nothing but a wet sounding click echoed in the trench.

“Well, that was bloody terrifying,” Dan giggled, allowing himself to smile while waving his hands in the air. “England surrenders.”

At this point, he swore he could see smoke coming out of Phil’s ears. Before Dan got the chance to wipe the grin of his face, Phil hurled his gun directly at Dan’s head. Dan just managed to duck out of the way, and the gun landed with a splash in the water a few feet behind him.

Phil was left looking furious. Even given as familiar with grenades as Dan was, he was sure this soldier could be mistaken for one.

“Now we’ve got that out the way, can we move on?” Dan asked.

Without another word, they both resumed moving the dirt in short, aggressive movements. A few angry glares were exchanged. With every deep sigh that Phil let out, Dan had to keep himself from hitting the man over his already injured head with the shovel.

Finally, Dan had had enough of the awkward tension. “You speak good English, you know,” he ventured.

“Danke.” Phil’s shovel made a clang as it hit a rock. “You speak horrible German.”

“I took French.”

Phil stopped digging for a second to glance towards Dan. “Voulez-vous parler français?”

“Show off…” Dan muttered.

Dan caught a quick smile forming on Phil’s lips. As soon as their eyes met, both men quickly turned away again, back to task at hand.

Dan paused working and rested his chin on the end of the shovel, looking thoughtfully at his companion. “One thing I have to ask…”

Phil grunted in response, so Dan went on, “Is it true that the German daily rations are six sausages and one potato?”

Without stopping, Phil glanced up just long enough to reply, “No, we get mustard too.”

“Really?”

Now the German paused and cast Dan a look of exasperation. “What do you think? Is all you drink tea?”

“How would I know?”

Shaking his head, Phil went back to the task of rebuilding the wall. Dan was still leaning on his shovel, looking at Phil with interest.

“What about girls?”

“What about them?” Phil wheezed. “Are you asking if they also eat six sausages and one potato a day?”

“No, I’m just asking…” Dan continued. “Do you have any?”

Phil glanced back over at Dan with one eyebrow raised. “Well, not here.” At this point Phil had already moved about two feet of dirt back into the space between them. As much as Dan hated to admit it, the Germans definitely were efficient. And Phil had been right about the work process after all.

“Is it true German girls have… you know.” He swooped his hands in front of his chest in an exaggerated fashion.

Phil sighed. “When you dig foxfoles all night and shoot people all day, everything becomes meaningless.”

“Even girls?”

“Even girls.”

Dan let out a small huh and looked back down at his boots. The sun was finally high enough to shine into his eyes, forcing him to squint when he looked up again.

“What about the lads?”

Dirt suddenly started raining down Dan’s neck.

The wall was almost at chest height, and lifting the dirt that high was becoming increasingly difficult. Dan’s shoulders were burning again—every muscle in his body was aching. He couldn’t wait for this to be over so he could head back to camp and snag a few hours of sleep.

A single gunshot sounded in the distance and both men stopped moving—only their heavy breathing remained in the air. It was beginning again. The war had awoken once more; the calm stillness of the night was forgotten.

“Düsseldorf.”

“What?” Dan turned his head to meet Phil’s eyes. They were back to looking lifeless, yet somehow full of concern.

“Düsseldorf. That’s where I live, should you ever find yourself lost in Germany.” He was only visible from the neck and up, indicating that their job was almost complete.

“Wokingham. If you ever find yourself lost in England,” Dan responded nervously. Another gunshot echoed above their heads.

Phil gave a quick nod and swallowed the lump in his throat.

At this point, it was only possible for Dan to see glimpses of the other soldier’s head over the remaining gap in the nearly intact wall.

“Oh… Dein Taschentuch!” Phil said hurriedly, holding out the formerly white piece of cloth as far as the wall would allow him. Dan could just spot the initials his mum had embroidered in the corner of the handkerchief—D.H.

“Keep it,” Dan replied. He was standing on tiptoe now to peer over dirt.

Phil smiled back—a true, genuine smile that made his eyes light up for the first time that morning. “Thank you.” He grasped the fabric tighter in his fingers and lowered his hand back down.

Dan grinned in return. Then he lifted up one final shovelful of dirt to fill the gap, and Phil was gone.

The fighting was picking up pace now, and Dan could hear cannons in the distance, followed by shouts.

“Hey Phil?” he breathed, his voice mixing with the sounds of the war.

“Ja, Dan?” floated back a voice.

“Merry Christmas.”

thend

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