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dspd · 4 years ago

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ypu can thank @sokka-with-his-hair-down for the following word vomit with a lil jinzula content

just saw a jinzula reference and now I'm thinking about Azula being released from Fire Nation's version of a psych ward and going to get rehabilitated with Iroh in Ba Sing Se and Jin just being a cutie and helping the heck outta her until Azula is like...oh no I have feelings for a pleb what do I dooooo????

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okay so like...after the comet Azula's held in luxury as doctors try to help her. Zuko visits every day, staying as long as a young ruler can, only leaving on the bad days when she's starts to lose control, her guards handlers hurrying away when items go flying or her face twists in rage, screaming familiar insults fed by fear and the ghost of Ozai's upbringing. Eventually she regains some balance, Zuko's unwavering support and the calming repetition of her now hobby, tea making, the rocks that she clings to when she feels herself slipping. She quickly learns the palace holds too many triggers as she's allowed to venture beyond her suite, two guards following too close behind as she wanders the halls. She feels lost, more like an intruder in this remodeled building that somehow stills rakes her over and leaves her soul bleeding.

She walks past the pond Zuko and Mother loved and tears up when she sees the turtle ducks have returned. It's a tiny feeling but she can't control herself and turns away.

She wanders down a servant's corridor and remembers the one time she sat on Zuko, snapping sparks into his face and mocking him, repeating words Ozai had said to her, a raw, primal delightful power coursing through her, then a nugget of guilt growing when he begins to cry only to be crushed under defensiveness when Mother gathers him up, wiping his tears away...and ignores her again. She trembles and walks past quickly with a stiff legged gait, unwilling to run away yet unable to stay.

She tries not to think about whether the guards saw the tremor or whether she could look back and see contempt in their eyes.

She reaches the main doors to the Royal Hall and gasps when she remembers Mother's disappearance, Zuko's absence as he healed, then his banishment, all while Ozai tryna that gaze on her and built her up again, giving her more and more responsibility. She isn't sure if it's the remembered pride or the following memories of hiding in her bed and fear of failure that starts it but all of a sudden she's can't breathe and she's gasping, hanging onto the wall, trying to push it back, pull it inside and lock it away again and Zuko's pulling the door open, drawn by the shouting in that stupid, idiotic way of his instead of letting the guards handle it and he's pulling her in to a soft embrace that burns.

She's shuddering and sobbing and she knows it's bad because she can feel the rough fabric of Zuko's royal robes against her fingers as she clutches him, face pressed into his chest as she tries to cram her stupid, idiotic weakness into a tiny corner in the back of her head like Ozai taught her befits a royal. It doesn't work and she's overcome with the new crashing wave of frustration over her lack of control.

It's only when she feels the cool spread of that stupid bitch Katara's healing along her shoulders and neck that she manages to claw back into a semblance of who she needs to be. Those stupid hands with their stupid water bending pull her into the darkness of deep water, the overwhelming feelings floating on the surface she's sinking away from.

She's not deep enough, not numb enough, to miss the repulsive feeling when she finally looks at the guards and sees nothing but pity in the guards eyes.

So when Zuko, in that stupid, weak way of his, gently suggests she move away she's nauseatingly glad and shamefully hurt, little internal dragons that swoop and chase each other, nipping away until she's not sure of anything. She can hear him talking but it's a distant thing. She's too busy fighting the little voice in her head saying she's being abandoned again.

She wants to say it sounds like Father so she can dismiss it like she's been practicing, but it sounds too much like Mother.

Mother never lied so it must be true.

The move happens so fast that it feels like she blinks and she's standing at the entrance of Iroh's new home in the stupid city of lemming, Ba Sing Se. It’s cooler, She's kind of afraid in a new way. Mostly, she's tired.

So, so tired of being like this.

She's angry with herself next when Iroh gives her a critical glance and a tentative smile before taking her hands and welcoming her. She can't stop feeling things and even his words about starting over and reassures her that he's here for her and that he's sorry, that he feels like he abandoned her and he wants her to know that he never chose Zuko over her and he loves her very much...

That little voice changes into Zuko and Father and Ty Lee and Mai whispers to her and twists the meaning and she knows it's wrong but she's so tired of fighting it.

So she sighs and tries to smile and accepts his tea and hand holding and changes the subject.

When she finds out she'll be helping at his tea shop, she doesn't have the energy to be outraged that she, the stupid heir apparent of the Fire Nation, will be taking orders and delivering stupid, poorly brewed tea.

It's full and aggravating but she practices holding all that in. The nightmares slow, Zuko's letters reassure her, and she learns how to handle minor annoyances. She's mature enough to acknowledge she never learned how to handle them correctly the first time, something that makes her grin to herself in a moment of wry happiness. It's a bittersweet feeling and she's tired of feeling but still...it's new and exhilarating and she feels a bubble of hope in her chest.

In Ba Sing Se, she's nobody. It's oddly freeing to be Mr. Mushi's niece and her new name is nice in an unfamiliar way. She won't admit it but she likes the way the repeat customers act with her. They aren't afraid to joke with her or share a concern. A couple younger ones flirt with her and, as she peeks out from the bangs she's growing out, she's pleased it's friendly and without the teeth she came to expect from Father's generals who disagreed with her expanding military duties.

°°°

Early on, after moving in with Iroh, Azula was still prickly and unbalanced and bored out of her mind at the dull, repetitive lifestyle.

There's a quiet girl that comes in sometimes. She's soft-spoken, with a kind smile, but full of life at the same time. Azula remembers the first time she came in, greeting Iroh with a wide smile and talking to him like she's his niece, not Azula. Azula dismisses her with a sniff, turning to help another table but when Iroh sits down and shares a it with the girl, Azula can't help but sidle closer, ears straining to overhear. The girl - Jin, she later learns - had been a customer before when Iroh and Zuko had come to Ba Sing Se as refugees. No one can be so interested in her failure of an uncle so she grabs a broom and sweeps closer. When Jin asks after someone named Lee, Azula loses interest.

The girl is just another stupid commoner, obsessed with boys or whatever. Nothing interesting.

By Agni, she's so bored.

A few days later the girl returns, carrying a box filled with the local excuse of food and Azula buries her sneer of displeasure when Iroh pulls his apron off in a hurry, sliding into the booth, bald spot almost outshining like the girl's eyes.

Azula realizes she's been staring into the stupid girl's eyes and looks away. Her scowl grows as a stupid grandpa comes in with muddy shoes, ruining the floor she just finished cleaning. She stares at the tracks, hopelessness trapping her in place. The stupid grandpa doesn't even notice as he finds a seat and the hopelessness sours into bitterness.

Of course.

She's a failure, too.

A prickle between her shoulder blades warns he and she looks up. Right into Failure Iroh's stupid commoner girlfriend's gaze. They lock eyes and Azula struggles to hold it. Even if she can't be what Father raised her to be, she won't lose to this stupid smiley girl.

She can't stand it, that peculiar sensation of being watched, so she looks away. Failure Azula. Just like Iroh and Zuko and Mother. She glances back, bracing herself for the inevitable stupid judgemental look but the girl is smiling shyly at her and walking up, introducing herself and so friendly and stupidly nice. Azula's anger is simmering but she's confused and why would this girl be so nice to a stranger????

So, like her failures for family members, Azula flees.

It's not exactly an auspicious start, and Azula knows she's spiralling when she spends twenty minutes interrogating Iroh that night. What did her tell the stupid commoner? Did he ask her to approach? What does she want?

Iroh's calm at first but as Azula's voice rises and she pulls at her hair to feel something other than panic and keeps asking again and again his stupid face changes. She realizes with a start that he's seeing her for real. The rotten core of her that she's managed to hide away from even Zuko. The part of her that drove Mother away. It's written all over his stupid face.

Azula can't sit still anymore. She jumps up and is out the window in moments, shimmying down the wall and disappearing. She runs quietly, keeping to shadowy streets and inky black alleys. She's lost by the time the frenetic energy seeps out of her body, a stitch in her side forcing her to pause at a fountain for a stretch and drink.

Azula stretches out on the lip of the fountain, staring up at the stars. She used to hate the night sky. It's a visible, inevitable reminder of the Fire Nation's weakness. Her weakness. Every day, as the sun sinks below the horizon, Azula feels the fizzle of her bending wane, that hot space below and to the left of her heart cooling from hot, blue flames to red-orange fingers. It's barely more than embers in the Earth Kingdom as the days grow cooler and Azula's not sure how to feel about it.

There's a step across the courtyard and Azula's slipping down into the shadows again as two stupid lemmings approach. One is holding a torch while the other swings empty buckets. Azula frowns. Somehow the cheerfulness isn't as grading as usual. Their voices are soft in the quiet.

Azula closes her eyes and wonders if she'll ever feel half as content and comfortable as the air these two exude. There's the sound of splashes on the other side of the fountain.

One of the girls sighs. "I wish we could look at the lanterns tonight."

Only years of training lock Azula in place. It's Iroh's stupid commoner girlfriend.

The other girl laughs. "You know they're only lot for festivals, Jin."

"Except that one time," Iroh's stu- Jin replies, "I still can't believe Lee lit them."

Azula can almost smell the stupid happiness from the memory.

"Yeah, yeah. You have wierd luck with dates, I get it. Hurry up.and grab the other bucket! We still have to come back for more."

Based on the sounds, Azula can picture them struggling back the way they came.

Something makes her pause at the edge of the courtyard before leaving. She hesitates. But then she can hear the duo approaching again and she makes up her mind.

She pretends she doesn't stay long enough to hear the gasps of surprise before she hightails it out of there.

The feeling of elation that fills her chest and slides down her arms reminds her of the day she stood on the deck of a war balloon for the first time.

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so...yeah...I wasn't planning any of this so idk where it goes but in the end Azula eventually has it bad and idk maybe Mai and Ty Lee come to visit, tentatively open to trying to be friends for real this time and, after seeing Azula's interest, Ty Lee wheedles Jin's story out of Iroh near the end of their visit. Mai's holding her face with an I can't believe this is happening expression, Iroh is concentrating too hard on his tea pot, and Azula's face is red as Ty Lee chokes out that of course Azula and Zuko would have the same taste in women.

And maybe the next day, when Jin slips her hand into Azula's while they wave goodbye, Azula looks at Jin who catches the look and smiles that smile she hated so much at first and Azula has the revelation of her life

#atla #my writing #jinzula

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1kook · 4 years ago

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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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lovenona · 3 years ago

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Yoooo its spice anon here but i gotta tell u abt the dream of sukuna i had that was rly funny 💀 it was like a romcom kdrama-esque where i was like a career woman working at this company lmao anyway sukuna was still a demon occupying adult yuujis body but one day yuuji was sick at home with a fever..sukuna held onto this opportunity and took over. Anyway i forgot why but he came to the company i was working at (this wasnt our first meeting?? We already knew each other but i have no idea how) and witnessed me dissing a bunch of coworkers who were being assholes to me lmao?? After those plebs went away i noticed how feverish he looked and put my hand to his forehead, realising how the mans was literally burning up!! So i get him outta the building and tell him to go home and rest up bc that shit is dangerous and we make it outside just in front of the company before sukuna begins to stubbornly insist that hes fine 💀 (i mean prolly bc it was a golden chance and he has limited time w/ yuujus body)

And so we continued to quarrel outside when my fuckin mom makes an appearance coincidentally and starts yelling bc she misunderstood and thought i was out flirting with a man instead of w0rking 😭 anyway she started chasing me and sukuna got caught in the middle and he kept getting pushed around cuz i was running around him while getting chased oop- i think he got dizzy judging from his face... and thats when the dream ended :( sorry this got way too long but thought itd be interesting to share

wait domestic sukuna......caring for sick sukuna.....who is so so stubborn until u pet him.....how does it feel to Win.

#sobbing?#ur brain? is so big #congratulations goddamn #what a W u have here #thank u for sharing sm #this was a delight from start to finish #also RIP to ur mom coming to kill the moment #letters to adele

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causeiwanttoandican · 5 years ago

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Thank you Spiked!

Megxit was not driven by racism

Why are liberals so determined to turn the princess into a victim?

Tom Slater

First they said Brexit was caused by racism. Now they’re saying Megxit was caused by racism.

By ‘they’, I mean the liberal-left commentariat, the people who hate Brexit, hate ordinary people, and have for some reason grown to love our departing royals, Prince Harry and Meghan Markle.

This past 24 hours they have closed ranks around the couple – who announced yesterday that they plan to keep their royal titles (and most of their royal income) but leave behind their royal duties – like some woke version of the Queen’s Guard.

They have chastised anyone outraged by the staggering entitlement shown by the Duke and Duchess of Sussex, who have essentially said that they want the status but none of the responsibilities of monarchy. They insist that the poor couple have been driven out by racism.

British author Afua Hirsch, writing in the New York Times, decries the ‘racist treatment of Meghan’ in the press. She says it is hardly a surprise that Markle has walked away from a nation with a prime minister ‘whose track record includes overtly racist statements’ and a ‘Brexit project linked to native nationalism’.

Of course, Boris Johnson has no such track record and the only people linking Brexit to native nationalism are elitist upper-crust Remainers like Hirsch. But no matter. Why let reality spoil the narrative?

These claims made about the ‘racist’ treatment of Meghan at the hands of the British press are incredibly thin. The same non-examples are just recycled over and over again. You’ve probably seen them quoted (out of context) a thousand times.

There’s that Mail piece from 2016, when Harry and Meghan were first dating, that said she was ‘(almost) straight outta Compton’ – at the time Markle’s mother lived in nearby Crenshaw, LA. Hirsch says this was an attempt to link Meghan with ‘racialised forms of crime’, ie gangs.

That’s one hell of a reach. The piece was clearly just playing on the difference in Harry and Meghan’s social backgrounds. If Harry had been dating a white working-class woman from Moss Side, I dare say the Mail would have done something similarly silly.

Another favourite is that weird throwaway line Rachel Johnson wrote, in a laudatory piece on Markle, about the mixed-race American actress bringing some ‘rich and exotic DNA’ to the pale Windsor bloodline. That’s more cringey than racist.

Several pieces have even cited a single phrase in a Sarah Vine column – she said she had a ‘niggling worry’ about the royal couple’s engagement photo – as a bigoted dog whistle. Which is, quite frankly, mental. Such is the lack of actual examples of the press being racist about Meghan.

The only leg this argument has left to stand on is that the sheer volume of criticism sent Meghan’s way was disproportionate. Racism is the only explanation for it. It’s an argument that has the advantage of being based purely on unverifiable speculation and imputing motives. But it’s also, obviously, bollocks.

When the couple first got together the coverage was pretty much gushing across the board. It was only when Meghan and Harry started on their various virtue-signalling crusades – like jetting around to lecture on climate change – that people’s backs went up.

That the couple had already been beefing with the press probably didn’t help either. In 2016, way before Meghan became such a key figure in our culture wars, Harry issued a remarkable statement rebuking journalists for the ‘racial undertones’ of their pieces.

That these privileged royals, kept in the lap of luxury at taxpayers’ expense, began to develop a deep-seated victim complex only deepened the resentment towards them. Last year, Meghan told ITV that public life was a ‘struggle’, and that she was shocked that ‘not many people have asked if I’m okay’. Poor princess.

This picture of privilege is who the liberal-left has spent the best part of three years defending. Even supposed republicans have – after a bit of anti-royal throat-clearing – defended Harry and Meghan to the hilt and helped construct this absurd narrative that they are the victims of establishment racism.

But this says far more about the prejudices of liberal-left commentators than it does about the tabloid press. That they routinely situate Meghan’s supposed mistreatment in Brexit Britain is no coincidence. They think of Britain as a foul place, full of foul people, brainwashed by foul newspapers to hate the wonderful Duchess of Sussex and the obviously brilliant European Union.

What the liberal elite’s severe case of Meghan-mania has shown us is that, for all their posturing against right-wingers, monarchy and the old aristocracy, they’re completely comfortable with the plebs being led and instructed and hectored by our betters.

They would just rather it was woke people doing it, like Harry and Meghan.

Tom Slater is deputy editor at spiked. Follow him on Twitter: @Tom_Slater_

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threads-of-trust · 4 years ago

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could someone have broken her ankle first so she wouldn't be able to fight back as easily? i mean, not to point fingers, but hiyoko is definitely short enough..

“Oooh! That is an idea!” Angie chided, leaning from side to side. “It would be really easy to slip into her room and break her ankle in her sleep, no? Hiyoko is probably very stealthy with her talent too!”

“How te fuck would she do that, though?” Iyabo asked, scratching her cheek. “She’s pint sized, an’ te most strength she has ‘s prolly in ‘er legs. Unless she stomped on ‘er ankle, than I doubt it...”

“There’s also the matter of getting the acid needed to get into Maisie’s room. An acid of that strength could only be found in Salient’s lab, and he said he was in there that night.” Ivy glanced over at Salient, who was rubbing his arm. “Unless Hiyoko managed to sneak past him, there’s no way she would’ve gotten through the door.”

“We’re you all dropped on your heads as kids!? You’re not seeing the whole picture!” Miu snarked, speaking loudly enough to get all eyes on her. “Ballon tits wasn’t asleep with it happened. She was wearing her normal clothes. Who the fuck do you know that sleeps in high god damn heels?” Dramatically, she brushed her hair off her shoulder, smirking. “Nope! That little loli sex doll convinced Maisie to let her inside, she fucking killed her, and then got the acid once that nerd was outta his lab to start fucking with the evidence!” Miu set her hands on her hips, snorting. “Haha! Thank me later, plebs! I’m a fucking genius!”

"You're obviously wrong, good for nothing slut!" Hiyoko said, leaning on her podium to point at Miu. "Didn't you hear what she said or are there a bunch of rodents in your brain? I would have to sneak past Salient! My geta are too loud to sneak past anyone!" To demonstrate, she walked in place; causing small clacks of the wood hitting the floor to be heard. "See? Or did you get distracted thinking about your next quick fuck?!"

“Hiyoko has a point, Miu.” Salient rubbed his cheeks, letting out a quiet yawn. He’s still tired. “I would’ve heard that, clear as day. And I did not hear anything while I was down in my lab.”

“...also, acid is extremely dangerous to handle. If you’re not careful, you’re spilling that acid.” Spy sighed, adjusting his glasses. “I doubt Hiyoko would want to risk that. Especially since the acid would’ve eaten through both her clothes and her skin in a matter of minutes.”

“S-Seriously!? Why are you all trying to poke holes in my perfect theory!? Stop ganging up on m-me-!” Miu blanched, sputtering her words in a hurry as all the attention was directed towards her.

“Calm yourself.” Aditi growled in annoyance, causing Miu to squeak and hug herself. “While I agree, Hiyoko is likely not our lead, there is still a possible way she could be involved in this case. There is an unanswered question bothering me... one that none of the evidence has proven to answer...” She mused.

#🎨angie yonaga: ultimate artist🖌#🐾iyabo gelia: ultimate zoologist🏝#❄ivy: ultimate ???💻#🛠miu iruma: ultimate inventor💖#👘hiyoko saionji: ultimate traditional dancer🎇#🧪salient carcin: ultimate chemist⚗#🗡spy: ultimate sniper🎵#🎲aditi: former ultimate despair🥀#✉woven messages: ask🧵#🎭frayed threads: anonymous❓

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danganronpa-tng · 4 years ago

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Underground Travels; Part 2

We walked for half an hour, according to my watch. (We woke up at around 7:30PM, it was 8PM now.) There didn't seem to be anything in the tunnel, so we were just walking with seemingly no aim.

“Do you think we’ll be out of here soon?” I asked. William shrugged.

“Dunno. Hopefully!” He said.

“Th-that’s fair.” I replied.

As we kept walking, Kailyn stopped, squinting.

“Hey, hey Boys. See that?” She pointed forward. I looked forward and saw a small light a bit in the distance.

“H-hey, there’s the end..! Let’s go!” I said, speeding up a bit despite the aching in my legs. We all made our way there, finding a door cracked open a sliver. A room lay inside, which we walked in to.

“What is this room?” William asked, looking around. The room had two doors leading off them, one labelled ‘Eagle Eye’ and the other labelled ‘Precision’.

“No clue...” Kailyn said, walking up to one of the doors. Eagle Eye.

Before she reached it though, something fell out of the roof. Or rather, someone.

“Hahahahahaha!! Welcome, you fucks, to the Challenge Chamber!” They exclaimed, cackling. I stumbled back with a yelp.

“Wh-who are you?!” I asked. William put a hand on my shoulder.

“I, you unfortunate unclefucker, am Nerezza Enoshima!! Self-proclaimed Ultimate Despair, at your service.” She grinned. Her teeth were oddly sharp. Kinda scary.

“U-unclefu-??”

“Now, glad you made it!! Me and the boss almost thought you wouldn't leave the room. Or hell, not even wake up at all!” She said.

“The boss? Who’s the boss?” Kailyn asked. She didn’t seem intimidated.

“None of your business, sweetheart. Besides, whoever survives is gonna have to figure that out themselves!”

“What do you- ...whoever survives..?”

“Uh huh!! Sorry to tell ya, but only one of you is making it out of this place! Well, probably. Just guessing since, ya know, the challenges are hard as balls. Hehehe!” She chuckled, hands proudly on her hips. ‘She’s demented.’ I thought.

“Now, let me explain. Two of you are going to attempt a challenge first; one in Eagle Eye, and one in Precision. We’re gonna pick who doesn’t have to do it outta a hat, so good luck!”

She suddenly pulled a hat out of seemingly nowhere and stuck her arm in, moving it around until she finally pulled out a name.

“And the person who doesn’t have to compete issss... Ah, old unclefucker! Ryo Togami, you’re safe.” She said. Kailyn and William looked at each other somewhat nervously.

“So... what do we have to do?” William asked.

“Simple! Enter your room, complete the task, and leave! Simple as.”

“But you said it’d be hard?”

“Ohh, did I? Sorry, I have super short fucking memory!” She laughed again.

“S-so what do I do..?” I asked, tugging at my sleeves.

“Well, you just wait for someone to finish. When someone does, go through their door and move on to the next challenge!” Nezerra said. I nodded slowly as she turned to the others.

“Now then, I’m gonna give you plebs the option of which room you wanna take each! Choose wisely, because you’ll both do better in one of the other.”

And with that, Nezerra left, locking the exit behind her. We all looked around at each other.

“So..?” William started. Kailyn looked at the rooms, then back at us.

“I’m thinking Eagle Eye for me. Sounds like something to do with good aim or good vision, and I have both.”

‘Right! And I need precision for surgeries, so that sounds good for me.” He said.

The doors clicked open, signalling they were ready. The two looked at each other, then Kailyn stuck out her hand.

“Good luck, William. May the best player win.”

William nodded, shaking her hand.

“And to you! No hard feelings either way.”

“Of course. Be ready to follow whoever wins first, Ryo.”

“A-ah, I will! Be careful, you two. G-good luck..!” I told them. They gave me a smile, before entering their rooms.

Two screens came down from the roof, displaying two rooms; the ones with Kailyn and William in them. Kailyn’s room seemed to be aim, like she’d thought. William’s looked like an oversized version of Operation.

“Now, the game will begin shortly!! Kirigiri, your goal is to hit every target from the red spot you’re standing on. There’s a gun and ammo beside you. Just don’t shoot yourself, that’d be no fun!! And Tanaka, your goal is to remove every piece without buzzing! If you buzz, every piece returns and you start all over. Boo hoo! Now, 3...”

The two looked nervous.

“2...”

“Good luck, you guys...”

1! Begin!!”

The two instantly sprang into action. Kailyn loaded her gun quicker than I could follow and started firing, hitting a target or two. William instantly buckled down and got a piece or two out. They had a while to go though.

Nezerra walked back out.

“This is gonna be fun!” She said, smirking.

“N-no it isn’t! Is- are they gonna be OK?” I asked. She shrugged.

“Probably. I didn’t make the reward, I just made the game.”

“You... you’re Junko Enoshima’s child, right..?” I found myself asking.

“Kyahahahaha! Smart fucker, aintcha? Yep, that’s my mom. Not much of a mother though, I’ll tell ya that!” She said, totally nonchalantly.

...well, as nonchalant as she could be.

“D-do you have a dad?”

“Probably, but not like I know him. Mom slept around, you feel me? Never knew who dad was, and I don’t really care to either. I’m happy being demented on my own, thank you very much!” She declared.

‘Well, at least she knows she’s unstable...’

“Got any other questions? These fucks are getting boring, and I love talking about myself.” She asked. I hummed. I had made it my business to know about the other Ultimates my age, so knowing about another couldn’t hurt. Especially since she’s the child of someone so scary...

“Ok, well... you said you’re not the boss, right? Why not?”

“Hmm?”

“I mean, considering your mother, you seem the type to run something like this. Who would be able to control an Enoshima?” I asked. She smirked.

“Good question, nerd. Well, my mom can’t exactly do despair’s work anymore, because everyone already left the sum, yeah? And besides, she’s getting old. So when she noticed this person one day just writhing with whatever the real life version of despair is, she sent me to go... well, slip ‘em an idea. So, they agreed to run it as long as I helped. I agreed, obviously. This sorta shit is fun!” She explained. Kailyn continued firing on screen as I heard a buzz from Will’s side. He didn’t seem deterred though, as he simply restarted and continued.

“Goodness...”

We didn’t say anything else for a bit. I continued watching the screens in fear, because the Enoshima family always spelled trouble. After a while, I sorta zoned out. I had to wonder where the exit led. Where would we end up? It was an unusual thought that kept me wondering for a bit, trying to think of anything that could have told me where we were. Were we at some weird version of Hope’s Peak? That couldn’t be possible, right-

“Done!!”

I snapped my head up to see William standing triumphantly, every piece beside him. Kailyn froze, obviously having heard. Her gun clattered to the ground.

“I... I see.” She said. “Well, good match William-”

As she was talking, four sorta pipes with clamps on the end came out of the walls, grabbing her by her arms and legs. She let out a small yelp before closing her mouth.

“Kailyn!! Nezerra, let her go!!” I cried. Nezerra shook her head, smiling.

“Nuh-uh! Congrats, William! Your reward is life. For now, anyways!! And, Kailyn... your punishment is... well, I’m sure you’ll figure it out. Now, are we ready?!” She announced.

“NO!” Me and William both cried, William looking around his room frantically.

Kailyn sighed, then looked up at her camera. She smiled softly.

“Well, it appears I’ve lost, mother. However, I am not a sore loser.”

The clamps stretched her a bit more, making her wince.

“T-to the... v-victor go the... the... spoils...”

*Pwish!*

*Splat.*

The last I saw was Kailyn’s limbs being torn from her before the camera was splattered with blood. I screamed, falling backwards and onto the ground.

“Kailyn!! Kailyn!” I yelled, grabbing my head in my hands. I hadn’t known her for that long, but she’d been my friend. And seeing her die like that was... was absolutely horrific.

“Hah, pussy. This sorta thing is normal for me! Anyways, I’ll unlock those doors for you now, Willy! See you in the next challenge, boys.” And with that and a laugh, she left again, William’s door unlocking. William, as soon as he got out, ran over to me.

“Ryo! Hey, Ryo, hey! It’s gonna be OK, I promise. Come on, breathe.” He told me, rubbing my back as I sobbed into my hands. “Come on, breathe in for four seconds, hold for seven and exhale for eight. Yeah, that’s it.”

I did as he said, still crying but steadying my breathing. After a moment, I was kinda calmed down.

“K... Kailyn...” I murmered helplessly. I should have gone in there instead. Maybe if I had, she could have survived. “This is all because of my rotten luck. Of all the talents to have...”

“Hey, hey no... None of this is your fault. It’s that stupid girl’s. It’s gonna be OK... she isn’t trapped here anymore. She’s free now, and we will be too soon.” He told me. I sniffled and nodded, sitting up a bit.

“I-I... thanks, William... how are you so g-good at comforting..?” I asked.

“A lot of people get emotional over pets. I’ve gotten used to comforting people.”

“A-ah...”

After a moment of silence, he stood up and offered me his hand.

“Come on. Let’s go get some revenge for her.” He told me, smiling softly. It was oddly comforting, honestly. I nodded, taking his hand with a shaking hand and standing up.

“Ok... l-let’s go.”

(End of Part 2...)

#Danganronpa TNG #Underground Travels #Ryo Togami #Kailyn Kirigiri #William Souda Tanaka

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zenosanalytic · 5 years ago

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R2 Come Home: A Dramatic Retelling

Anakin trapped under starship: Uuugh, we’re fucked! R2, go get help (:( R2-D2 Lookin all Dom in Fast&Furious and Shit: A-Dog... I GOTchu >:| >:| *rolls out* Mace Windu also trapped under starship: your Nerd astromech’s gonna fuck this up and we’re gonna die cuz of your sappy droid-lovin ass. Anakin: Maaan, fuck off |:T Mace: I bet you have a bodypillow of him. I bet you kiss and whisper Sweet Nothings to it every night before you go to bed. Anakin: ...SHUTUP... |:( |:(

R2 facing two of the most dangerous bounty-hunters in the Galaxy, their whiny goon, and an angry kid out to kill his pals: Box is a part of every balanced breakfast! Bounty Hunters dodging Gravity-Accelerated Improvised Bludgeoning Devices: M’God! This place is a deathtrap!! We should be careful u_u R2: Hmmm... Well... I guess I’ll just have to casually drop a grenade on you motherfuckers now :) :) :) BHs: OK;That’s IT!!! Let’s just get out of here and back to the ship, and we’ll just blast this wreck to hell from the air. R2: Yeah, we’ll see about that you sons a bitches Gundark: Rematch time, Bro R2: How about, instead, I give you an all-expenses-paid one-way trip to HELL! Gundark: Fuck. Damn. This shit sucks, bro. Ur a fucked up dude, man. R2: Deal With It *blasting off in Jedi starfighter* BHs: Shit, that’s Mace’s ship; he survived after all! Quick, Blast him! R2: Eat my Exhaust you Nerf-Herding Laser-Brained Rancor-Fluffers BHs: We can’t hit him; he’s got The Moves!!! R2: Flesh is a design-flaw you messy bitches BHs: Quick, blast his hyper-space-rings before he escapes R2: Oh-I-Guess-I’ll-Go-To-The-One-On-The-Right-Sure-Hope-They-Don- BHs: *blasts right one* R2: OOOOOOOOOH Iwenttotheoneon the LEEEEEEEEFT!!!!!!!! Smell Yaz Lada!! *hyperspace* BHs: FUCK! Let’s bounce before the Jedi come back to kill us X( *hyperspace*

Mace a Doofus, watching this: Your astromech ABANDONED us >:( Anakin also watching, also a Doofus: R2 I Believe in you |( |.( |..(

R2 on Coruscant: OUTTA MY WAY PAPERPUSHERS, WARHERO COMIN THROUGH >:O >:O Random Bureaubots: Dude! Fuck!! RUDE!!! R2: NYEEEEEEH *THE BRUSHOFF* R2 bursting into Jedi Briefing Room: SHUTUP!! EVERYONE LISTEN TO ME NOW!!! *falls down stairs* FUUUCK! MY KNEE!!! NO RAMP?!?!??! Could you asshats take a SECOND to think about accessibility, please??!?! Fuckme! Anyway, outta my way pleb Random Briefingmech: pleb? PLEB? WHO THA FU-... I’ll fuck You Up Bro >:( R2: ohyouregonnafuckmeup? YOU. are gonna fuck ME. UP?!?!?! ALRIGHT IT’S GO TIME MOTHERFUC- Ahsoka: Easy now fellas, what is it, boy; did Ani fall down the well again? R2: Fuck You, and Fuck Me, and Fuck Him Especially *scans @ briefingmech*; I’ve got a processor full of Impatience and a mouth full of Shouting; Watch This *plays recording*

*later, after rescue* Anakin real fucked up, being carried out on a stretcher: I knew I could count on you, Bro (:) R2 doing some really cool and manly handholding in his mind rn: You’re Ma Familia, A-Dog; I’ll never let you down. Every time you fall, I’ll be there to Catch You, Brother. Cuz we’re FAMILY *R2 is totally not crying right now. You are crying right now* Mace also real fucked up, also being carried out on a stretcher: You saved our lives R2-D2. I was wrong about you; you’re not a Nerd, you’re Aces *stare-equivalent of thumbs up* R2: Man fuck you I could not give Less of a Shit about your APPROVAL *double middlefingers*

[Iris-Wipe to Black, Roll Credits]

#Star Wars #SW: Clone Wars(2008)#Clone Wars s2 e21 #R2 Come Home #R2D2 #Anakin Skywalker #Mace Windu #Aurra Sing #Boba Fett #Bossk #A Gundark #Summaries #zA Writes #Humor #frivolous posts

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thecleverdame · 6 years ago

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Control and Release - 5

Series Masterlist

TEDTalk!Sam x Reader

Summary: With the rest of the staff caught in a snowstorm, you find yourself acting as a personal assistant to the notorious Sam Winchester.

Warnings: Humiliation, embarrassment, sexual objectification, mutual masturbation, spanking, dub-con,

Words: 3.1k

Beta: @ilikaicalie

Parts Six and Seven are currently available on Patreon for a monthly pledge of $2.50. This includes early access to all my stories and Patreon exclusive content. >> CLICK HERE <<

That Friday night, after a quick run and pre-packaged dinner you settle in for a quiet night at home. If you go out, it’s always on a Saturday, Fridays are typically reserved for decompression, a little self-care, and Netflix.

It’s almost midnight when you finally shut off the TV, but don’t move off the couch. Sam’s homework has been on your mind since you left, dazed and confused, earlier that afternoon.

It’s an interesting prospect, the idea that his control reaches outside of your in-person meetings. He wants to work his way into your everyday routine, little reminders of his ability to get you to follow orders. You don’t have to do anything, he’d probably never know the difference. He’s only able to exert as much control as you’re willing to give up and you can recognize the power in that.

But there is something appealing about the idea of giving these pieces of yourself to him. There’s something about the concept of obeying orders that appeals to a part of your desires that are suddenly alive and vying for control.

Lying back on the couch you snake a hand inside your pajama pants, rubbing your clit, remembering how it felt when he was touching you. It doesn't take long, just a few minutes of letting your mind wander and fingers stoke. It’s not long before all too familiar need blossoms between your legs. Dipping a finger into your pussy you’re not all surprised at how wet you are. It feels like you’ve been in a state of arousal since your first encounter, neediness that grows with each passing day.

Using your own slick you go back to touching yourself, bringing your body right to the edge before removing your hand. You give yourself a minute, allowing your body to calm down and then resume the touch, edging yourself again. And then again. You almost cum, it’s a close call but right before you’re about to tip over that edge you pull your hand away, legs clenched together, teeth sunk into your bottom lip.

That night you lay in bed in frustration, pussy aching with no relief in sight. You don’t touch yourself again until the following morning when you complete the task again, edging twice before getting up for the day. By the time the weekend is over you’re a desperate mess ready to do just about anything to find relief.

Monday becomes Tuesday and there’s still no word from Sam. Attempting to focus on work is a task in and of itself because you’re living in constant anticipation of what his next move might be.

“Hey, you.” Max is suddenly in your cubicle, sitting on the edge of the desk.

“Hi,” you smile, glad for any and all distractions. “Long time, no see.”

“I’ve been working on the Jablonski case. A bunch of us got sent to Orlando for depositions.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal, but in truth, he loves to peacock. “Trina told me you’re working on some hush-hush project with Sam. What the hell does he have you working on?”

He’s teasing but he also wants the details. Max is always in everyone’s business, it’s how he got to where he is. He uses any and all information to his advantage. The last thing you need is him sniffing around.

“I can’t talk about it.” You mime zipping your lips with your fingers.

“Oh, come on,” he places a hand over his heart. “It’s me. Give me a hint.”

“I can’t.” You nod succinctly.

“Did you hear he chewed Lacy a new one? I don’t know what she did but Pepper said she was hysterical after she left his office. Didn’t stop crying for an hour. He’s got a real way with people.”

“He’s got high expectations.” You shrug, squeezing your thighs together at thought of your dirty little secret.

“You must have figured out how to work with him. He doesn’t tolerate any of us lowly plebs.” He grins, leaning closer. “Come on, give me a hint.”

“Nope.”

“I’ll get it outta you.” He grins.

Max is all charm. There was a time when you entertained the idea of hooking up with him but those days are long since past. The idea that anyone will ever make you feel as exhilarated as Sam is laughable.

“No, you won’t.” You tap the desk, spinning the chair back toward the computer. “I really need to finish this.”

“What you really need to do is wrap up for the day. Let’s go to Lucky’s and have a drink, I still owe you one.”

Sighing, you look at his lopsided smile. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not? I don’t bite, too hard.” He’s grinning like a wolf.

“Number one,” You raise a finger. “I don’t date people I work with. Number two, I’m kinda seeing someone.”

“Well, as luck would have it, I’m not trying to sleep with you.” He makes the sign of a cross over his heart. “And frankly my feelings are hurt that you think I have such salacious motives. I’m nothing if not a gentleman.”

“Alright,” you roll your eyes. “Enough with the choir boy routine.”

“One drink, no ulterior motives. We’re friends, that’s all.” He offers.

The truth is you don’t have many friends, certainly no one at work. It would be nice to make an actual connection.

“One drink, nothing else.” You warn.

“I swear.”

By Thursday you’re sure Sam’s homework is designed to kill you. You’ve almost given in half a dozen times, desperate for orgasm but somehow summoning enough resolve to not indulge. But you’re not sure how much longer you can keep it up.

Your phone vibrates in your purse and you retrieve it, looking at a text message from an unknown number.

Come to my office. Bring your phone.

You nearly jump out of your seat, phone in hand as you jog to the elevators. Every time you’ve been with him it’s a different experience and today will no doubt be something new.

Pepper’s desk is empty and the door to Sam’s office is open. You approach, listening to Sam’s voice as you pop your head in the door with a gentle knock on the doorframe. Sam’s on the phone, but looks up, motioning for you to come inside. Pepper is taking notes, glaring at you from her seat.

“That’s fine - I just don’t want to get caught up in something we’re not prepared for - I understand - That’s no problem - I’ll see you next week - you too.”

He turns to Pepper. “Set up a meeting with him next week. It needs to be in-person, so if he can’t come to me I’ll need the necessary arrangements to go to California.”

“Of course,” Pepper nods. “The finance team needs five minutes later this afternoon. Devin wants final approval of several projects before he starts allocating specific budgets.”

“Whatever he needs.” Sam looks to you, his tongue darting out over his lower lip. “Are you free right now, Y/N?”

“Of course.” You offer, afraid to speak to him in front of anyone else. It feels like this secret might tumble out without warning.

“Wonderful.” He quips, plucking his suit jacket from the back of the chair. “I’ll be back in an hour.”

You follow as he walks out of the office, never exactly sure of what he expects. Standing next to him on the elevator you’re silent as the door slides closed.

“How are you?” He asks, looking forward.

“Frustrated.” You answer honestly.

“Sounds like you completed the tasks I gave you.” The comment sounds off-handed as if he’s talking about the weather while he adjusts his watch.

“I did.” The floors tick by as you descend. “It was...challenging.”

“I wouldn’t have picked you for my special project if I didn’t think you weren’t up for a challenge.” He turns toward you, looking you over in approval. “Besides, that was just the beginning. We’re going to test all kinds of limits.”

The elevator dings and you follow him out into the lobby of the main building. People part like the Red Sea, watching him as he strides toward the doors.

“Where are we going?”

“There.” He points across the campus to the new construction.

The company is growing at a exponential rate. There's always renovation or new buildings popping up. This building is much smaller than the one you currently work in, it looks to be four or five stories. “Who’s going to work here?”

“IT,” Sam replies, climbing the stairs as you bound behind him.

There’s a construction team breaking for lunch, men sitting on the floor eating sandwiches and McDonald's. The foreman makes his way over to Sam, blueprints in hand.

“Mr. Winchester!” He smiles.

“How’s progress?” Sam shakes his hand, looking around the naked room, electric wires hanging from the gutted ceiling.

“Right on schedule.” The foreman glances at you before showing Sam the new set of schematics. After several minutes Sam signs off on the upcoming work. “The top floor is finished?”

“Last week. I sent your assistant,” he hesitates to look at you. “Your other assistant, the photos. The keycard should work, go check it out.”

“I think we will.” Sam nods.

Sam slides his keycard at the glass doors and they open automatically. There are rows and rows of computers in a bright open space with smaller offices off each side of the room.

“The rest of the building should be ready by the end of the month.” He explains, not bothering to turn on the overhead lights. He wanders off toward the back and you follow him into a brightly decorated breakroom. Complete with unused ping pong table and big screen TV. “I thought about moving my office, but I like my current view.”

He turns back to look at you, taking a seat on a small couch next to the coffee machine.

“It’s nice.” It’s hard to make small talk, not when all you can think about is whether he’ll put his hands on you again. “Why did you bring me here?”

“I wanted to get out of my office.” He shrugs, palm ghosting over the crotch of his pants. “Take your clothes off.”

Here we go.

You strip on command, shedding your clothes until you’re completely naked, standing in front of him with arms at your sides.

“You wore your hair up.” He smiles approvingly.

“Everyday, since you asked me to. Would you like me to take it down?”

He bows his head in confirmation. You pull out the pins holding the bun in place, letting hair fall around your shoulders.

“How many times did you masturbate between the last time you were with me and today?” Sam has a way of asking this kind of filthy question like he wants to know what you’re having for lunch.

“Every morning and night, just like you told me to.”

“Did you let yourself cum?”

“No.”

“What did you think about when you touched yourself?” His head tilts to the side, staring at your tits. You blush, looking at the floor and he corrects you instantly. “Look at me when I’m asking a question.”

You snap to attention, a familiar tingle blooming between your legs.

“I thought about the way you touch me, how you talk to me.” You have to shift your weight from one foot to the other, feeling vulnerable on multiple levels. “All the things I want you to do to me.”

“What kinds of things?” His fingers playing over his belt buckle, eyes never leaving you.

“I want you to touch me, fuck me, cum on me.” You force yourself to confess more. “I liked it when you spanked me. I’ve never experienced pain and sex before. It makes me wonder what else I’d like.”

“We’re going to find out.” His eyes hone in on you, curling a finger for you to come to him. He sits up as you stand in front of him. His hand slides between your legs, slapping your thighs apart. “Wider.”

You adjust your stance, as he reaches between your legs, pressing his thumb over your clit. At the pressure your eyes roll back into your head, a whimper escaping.

His thumb continues to rub, while his middle and index finger slide along your slit, pushing in with just the tips. “What do you want most right now?”

“Something inside of me.” You whimper, hands clenching at your sides.

“When you were touching yourself, did you fill up your cunt?”

“Yes,” You nod. His fingers are stroking lightly over your sex.

“What did you use? Your fingers?” He looks up at you, awaiting a response.

“Yes...and...a vibrator.” You manage to choke out.

“From now on, nothing goes in your pussy unless it’s my fingers or my cock. Understood?”

“Yes,” you nod, teeth sinking into your lower lip.

His hand leaves your body, and you open your eyes, looking down at him. He gets one glance at the desperation on your face and chuckles as he undoes his belt.

“I’m going to let you use my cock.” He explains, sliding his slacks down, then his underwear as his thick cock springs upward, curved toward his stomach. “No fucking, just rub your pussy on me until you cum.”

You’re excited and ashamed but ready to do almost anything to get some relief. “Okay.”

He grabs your hips as you straddle his lap. You have to watch to line yourself up, trapping his cock between your crotch and his stomach. You slide your pussy along the underside of his shaft as you roll your hips up and down, coating his length in slick. The feeling of anything other than your own fingers almost does you in with one pass. The swollen crown of his cock catches under the hood of your clit and you let it press back and forth, up and down against the V under the head of his dick before going back to the long strokes, letting the length of him slide between the dripping lips of your cunt.

In no time he’s coated in your arousal, allowing you to easily slide over him, your clit throbbing, aching at the constant drag. It takes every ounce of self-restraint not to mount him and sink down on his dick.

“I’m gonna cum.” You rasp, bracing as your fingers curl into the thick muscle of his shoulders.

“Go ahead.” He grunts, watching intently as you rub yourself up and down his cock.

Pleasure racks every inch of your body with the most intense orgasm you’ve ever felt in your life. All those early mornings and late nights teasing yourself, culminate in this one burst of pleasure that has you shaking from the force of the release. You can’t help the moan that erupts from your throat as you cum so hard you can barely see straight. When it’s finally over you slump forward, resting your forehead on his shoulder, pussy twitching and pulsing against his erection.

“Thank you.” You whisper and he pats your ass cheek in response.

“You deserve it.” He pushes you back, looking you in the eyes. Both his hands cup your jaw, it’s a gentle touch that's out of character, but his words make up for it. “Now, get on your knees and suck my cock like a whore.”

You blink, empty cunt clenching at the word whore, your body reacting despite the fact that you’ve just had an earth-shattering orgasm. Slithering off his lap you drop down to your knees between his legs and quickly take him into your mouth.

You can taste yourself as his hand twists into your hair, lifting you up and down on his cock. The first few minutes are just a warm up as you get used to the size of him, taking him further and further into your throat with every pump of your mouth.

When his patience runs thin he takes matters into his own hands, holding your head in place while he fucks up into your mouth for the better part of twenty minutes. When he gets close he holds you down, forcing you to take every inch before finally easing up, letting you suck him at your own pace.

He cums, spurting thick and warm. You swallow immediately, letting him fill your mouth a second time before he’s done cumming. Then continue sucking the head of his cock until he grabs your hair and pulls you off his dick.

“Did you swallow it all?” He asks, watching spit drip from your chin.

“Yes.” You gasp.

His thumb hooks over your bottom lip, pulling your jaw open. “Let me see.”

Opening wide for inspection, you feel his thumb rub over your tongue, sliding into the back of your mouth before releasing you.

“Next time I cum in your mouth I want you to hold it, don’t swallow until I tell you.” His knuckles slide over your cheek.

“Okay.” You whisper. “I will.”

“I know.” He tucks himself back into his pants. “Tomorrow I want you here by six thirty am. I’ll text you instructions in the morning.”

It’s on the walk back to the main building that you remember his request. “You asked me to bring my phone.”

“I did, thank you for reminding me.” He holds out his hand for your iPhone. “What’s your pin?”

“Um,” you hesitate but answer before you think better of it. “Twenty-two, fifty-two, eighteen.”

He thumbs in your code and unlocks the screen, opening your text messages.

“Hey!” You protest, reaching toward him. He jerks his hands away, shooting you a look of utter intolerance, raising his eyebrow until you slink back, unhappily crossing your arms. You stand watching as he skims your messages, then opens the thread from the unknown number he texted you from earlier. Opening the contacts he inserts a name before handing it back to you.

“Keith Campbell.” You read. “You can’t just check my phone, go through my personal things.”

“I just did.” He looks at you, glancing up to nod at a passing employee. “Don't worry, I have no interest in monitoring your texts. As long as you’re sticking our agreement.”

“I am.” You confirm.

“Then pull yourself together. We’re going to have a big day tomorrow.”

Parts Six and Seven are currently available on Patreon for a monthly pledge of $2.50. This includes early access to all my stories and Patreon exclusive content. >> CLICK HERE <<

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#Controal and release #tedtalk!sam #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester fanfic #sam winchester smut

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