› pairing: min yoongi x oc x jung hoseok
› word count: 1.4k
› tags: poly!yoonseok | guns being fired
› summary: ❝ before they allow you to join their criminal duo, there are a few things they need to teach you, like how to properly fire a gun. after your first target practice, yoongi and hoseok are proud. ❞
› a/n: this is a drabble for my bonnie and clyde(s) series but it can be read separately. hope you enjoy!
Yoongi pulls you against his chest, circling his arms around your waist, entrapping your body between his arms. You struggle against him slightly, whining when his grip tightens. Daegu was going through its second heat wave of the summer and you were feeling it’s full might. You watched lazily as Hoseok retrieved beer and alcohol bottles out of the trunk of the GTO. Today would be your first target practice lesson instructed to you by, according to Hoseok, the best motherfucking sharpshooter in all Daegu, Min Yoongi himself.
Yoongi pressed a quick peck to the back of your head before releasing you and stepping aside. Without Yoongi’s body shielding you from the sun, the back of your neck and forearms fell victim to the intensity of the burning sunlight. It was a beautiful day, the birds were chirping, the flowers were blooming, the sun was out, perfect weather to spend inside your air-conditioned apartment doing absolutely nothing. However, the two thieves hauled you out of your apartment and forced you to endure the harsh conditions of the outdoors.
Yoongi handed you his gun, the black device shining under the bright sunshine. You’d held a gun before but never with the intention to fire. Although the gun and you had both been birthed into a life of crime and deceit you stood on opposite sides of the spectrum. You were a casualty of the destruction and pain that ensued by standing on the opposite side of the trigger, collateral damage to the chaos catalyzed by the gun. It was unlike you to do things like these but it seemed that ever since the two suit-wearing men strode into your life you’d found yourself doing things you’d never thought of before. Perhaps it was a sign for change.
The raven-haired man’s heart felt heavy as he watched you study the gun. The sight pulled at his heartstrings at the thought of you ever having to use it on somebody, he prayed it would never come to that, he prayed that you’d never have to use your training. But he knew that killing was a simple means to an end in his line of work, handing you the gun meant you’d have to make peace with that at some point.
“Ready!” Hoseok called, his shirt flowing in the wind as he jogged to move out of your shooting range, finding shelter from the sun’s blazing rays under a tall dried up tree.
“Go on,” Yoongi motioned. “Give it a try.”
You spread your legs a foot apart from each other, something you’d seen actors do countless times, and grounded yourself. You didn’t have a clue as to what to do. The antics of your gormless drunk father were the only time you’d seen a gun being fired up close.
“No, no, no, you don’t want to put both of your hands on the gun,” he began, the words falling from his mouth as if he were reading off an instruction manual. “Hold the gun with one hand and lock your wrist, now place your other hand on your wrist.” You followed his instructions, looking at him for approval.
“Good, good,” he nodded. “This will prevent you from receiving too much kickback, try it now.”
You allowed yourself a few seconds to accommodate the grip of the gun in your hand. Feeling the hard handle against your soft palm, imagining the device was nothing more than an extension of your arm. You held the gun in front of you, in your mind you were Lara Croft, armed and ready to shoot your target down, an unbeatable opponent against anyone and anything. Releasing a deep breath, you pulled the trigger and watched as the bullet ricocheted against the tree trunk that held your targets. Lowering the gun you turned to Yoongi, pouting.
The sound of whooping and clapping could be heard. Turning in the direction of the mock applause you watched Hoseok give you two thumbs up, face contorted into a serious faux expression. You gave the disrespectful brat the middle finger to which he shrugged as if to say he was unimpressed with you. You sighed, using his actions as motivation. There wasn’t anything else you wanted more than to be their equal, matching every single one of their strides with your own.
These men were professionals, every step, every breath, every interaction was meticulously calculated. They were in sync with one another and you turned green with envy watching them interact, itching to be a part of them, which is why you strived to excel at everything they taught you. Before allowing you near a loaded gun, Yoongi made sure you knew all the components that made up a gun, teaching you to assemble and disassemble it until you could take it apart and put it back together in less than thirty seconds. Keeping you up late at night questioning you and even going as far as to blindfold you to teach you how to identify each part by touch.
“Now,” the thin man began, reaching for the rod of nicotine tucked behind his ear. “I want you to pretend that every single one of those bottles is a man that wants to kill you. I want you to shoot every one of them dead.”
His words sent you through a loop. You knew that what you guys were planning was dangerous but you didn’t think it would involve killing anyone. The thought of ending someone’s life made your stomach turn, you couldn’t picture yourself killing anyone, it was inconceivable. But perhaps if push came to shove you would be able to do it. You coked your head to the side, cracking your neck, thinking of anyone you would willingly hurt. You summoned all the hurt and anger of bruised arms, broken ribs, and busted lips until they transformed into the image of a tall beefy drunk man. You nodded, ready.
“Aim lower than your objective,” he instructed, the hot smoke of his cigarette fanning against your cheeks.
The light reflected against the glass bottles winked at you, tauntingly. You aimed, lowering your gun a few centimeters and fired. The bullet flew straight ahead and the sound of glass breaking and a high pitched yeah filled your ears.
“Good girl,” Yoongi praised huskily. “Again.”
Your body was vibrating with adrenaline, your inner Lara Croft smirked proudly at you. You pulled the trigger again, hitting the second bottle and then the third and then the forth until there were no more bottles left to shoot. The continuous sound of the gunshots left your ears ringing, silencing your surroundings. Your heart pounded against your ribs ecstatically, the blood pulsing in your ears making them feel hot. Strong arms wrapped themselves around your waist ripping a bubbly laugh from your throat as you were lifted off the ground. You wrapped your arms around Yoongi’s neck, the scent of sandalwood and smoke flooded your senses and you took it in, like a child smelling it’s mother’s homemade cookies.
“Good job princess,” Hoseok praised you, sauntering towards you with a cold beer in hand and the most arrogant smirk on his face. “You’ll be giving hyung a run for his money in no time.”
The skinnier man placed you gently on the hot ground, the dirt making your feet sting with its heat. Your traitorous sandals laid a few feet from you, flying off your feet while you’d been happily spinning in the air. Fuck, your feet were burning dammit.
“Come here,” Hoseok motioned at you, extending his tattooed arms for you.
You jumped into his arms, happy to give your feet some release from the harsh warmth. Wrapping your arms and legs around the younger man like a vice, he placed his hands on your sides, squeezing you affectionately.
“A few more lessons and you’ll be ready,” he commented.
His words made your heart flutter.
You knew you were digging your own grave trying to search for a deeper meaning behind his words but you couldn’t help it. You were aching to belong somewhere, pushing through the cracks like the gutter worm that you were, hoping to find a home. Yoongi and Hoseok had merciless hit you like a gunshot to the heart, they had ripped your heart open in cold blood filling it up with themselves until they were all you knew.
“The Jung-Min trio will soon be in business,” Yoongi said, pushing a strand of your hair behind your ear, gently caressing your cheek with his thumb. “Let’s go now, it seems someone earned herself a five-course meal of her choosing.”
