So Much Angst - Tumblr Posts

Hehee my work is done

Imagine all of them apprehensive but it's so much better to make their light cry and put him in a box then watch him burn bright and snuff out

Hee hee

You know what I need to see in the show?

I need to see that if Sun will end up working for villains - for whatever reason no matter forced or whatever else - I need Moon to fight for Sun..

Cause Moon used to run away when things got too much.. when he and Sun couldn't get along..

But how he said himself he'd tie Sun if he became emotionless suddenly.. I believe that this time Moon would go to Sun.. he wouldn't leave him..

He'd be there for him just like he supposed to..

I don't know what will happen.. but I'm sure that Sun and Moon will be fine..

I also hope that Nexus could be with them..

I'm trusting the process..

Whatever tragedy will happen I'm sure that Sun and Moon will remain..

Idea I have an idea for TSAMS and the EALS by extension. So, in the most recent episode, we know Bloodmoon wants to kill Sun.

What if he successes? What if he does kill Sun and this leads Moon to try an resurrect Sun but nothing he normal does works. So, he goes to Golden Freddy and Goldie sends Moon to the world of the dead to get Sun's soul. But when he gets there and finds Sun..... Sun doesn't want to come back. Sun has been through A LOT. He's lost love (if you can call his crush on Roxanne love?) He's had to watch his brother die, had his other brother blow up, had his sister recently mauled to death. Has been possessed by a psycho anti him (Eclipse), found out his creator is evil, works for a company that doesn't care about him or his family at all only if they make them money, and is just.... constantly stressed.

What if Sun doesn't want to come back. Like he says he still loves his siblings but he's just tried and while he will miss them, he just wants to be at peace now.

Now I see three possible outcomes...

Opinion 1. (Most possible) Moon manages to convince Sun to come back to the land of the living saying something wise and family related like how Sun dying won't really fix and thing and his death might make everything worse and that they all have to stick together, that they all have trauma and need to work through it but they should work through it together and that they all miss him and love him. Sun realizes staying dead won't really get rid of his trauma and decides to come back. Yay happy.

Opinion 2.(Also very likely)Sun doesn't want to come back, and no matter what Moon does or says he can't convince Sun to come back... so he drags Sun out of the world of the dead by force, and when Sun wakes up back in his body, he is MAD. He's mad at Moon and doesn't want to talk to him or have anything to do with him, and Earth and Lunar are trying to understand why? And Sun and Lunar get to talking. Lunar finds out why, kinda relates to wanting to go back to that peaceful place but ultimately convinces Sun to give life another shot and make up with Moon. Yay happy. With a little bit of angst.

Opinion 3. (Probably won't do, but boy, would it be good) Sun doesn't want to come back, him and Moon talk, and no matter what Moon does, he can't convince Sun to come back. So Sun just asks his brother to trust him and let him finally rest and.... Moon reluctantly accepts. He comes out of the world of the dead without Sun and tells some lie to Lunar and Earth about why Sun didn't come back to spare their feelings. A couple episodes would pass some episodes would be about life without Sun and how they all are dealing with the trauma and loss and Moon confides in Solar or Monty why Sun really isn't back.

Meanwhile, Sun is enjoying his time in the world of the dead.... sort of. He's finally at peace, but it's like the trauma hasn't left. It's still a weight on his shoulders, and while he's exploring the world of the dead, he finds none other than Dun dun dun! Solar flare and Og Eclipse! Sun is scared at first, but Eclipse tells him he won't hurt him or that he can't hurt people in the world of the dead. So, Sun just sits and talks to them.( I mean, whoesle, is he gonna talk to Glitchtrap? ) Sun talks with solar flare, and Eclipse and Eclipse convince Sun to go back to the land of the living. Sun uses whatever magic he may have left or maybe Some magic Eclipse has left over or ever some loophole in the afterlife to come back from the dead.

LOT OF ANGST. but would love so so MUCH!

I legit hope this becomes canon (not Radioapple). Them being friends in canon would be so much fun!

Not to mention it would be all the more angst riddled when Alastor turns on them!

QwQ

Tbh I think Lucifer and Al will definitely at the very least have an enemies to friends type dynamic where they're forced to bond by Charlie so they're not fighting constantly and in the process they find out they have a lot in common. They start tolerating each other better and ah shit now they're making dad jokes in the fucking parlor all the time

Ride the Cyclone AU in which instead of one coming back to life, one stays, and Ocean has a whole character arc and grows to love and be loved by the rest of the choir, to the point she chooses herself to die.

However, after the rest of the choir come back, they all forget about Karnak’s game and only Constance goes to Ocean’s funeral out of duty. Ocean, while stuck in the Warehouse, watches her friends, the people she died for, leave her behind without a care.

feeling sad so i made this

idealizations concerning real life relations | jjk (m)

>>pairing:jungkook x reader / fuckboy!jk x hopeless romantic!oc

>>genre:s2l, fwb, smut, angst

>>word count: 40.9k besties i am so sorry

>>warnings: jk is so sweet, but also so evil lmao, oc lives in her little noggin, angsty fwb, drug and alcohol use, tattoos, multiple smut scenes that include: oral (m/f), fingering (f), light face slapping (with hand and cock??), praise, degradation, marking, dirty talk, so many creampies yum, multiple orgasms, kissing :(, cumming in pants :), probably more but i cant think of it, ok other stuff now, manipulation, infidelity, oc thinks jk is made of stars :(, jk thinks she is so pretty :(, misunderstandings, some fluff if you squint, brunette jk, blonde jk, n blue jk,  1 mentions of: howls moving castle, too many mentions of: stars, the color pink

>>notes: bruv i do not have anything to say for myself EXCPET that i worked v hard on her and i really hope u like it <3 beta: @birbdae​ tysm for dealing with this, she is long lmao >>> soundtrack

this is split up by seasons, so if 40k is a lot for one sitting, you can read one season at a time if that is easier :)

>>summary: jungkook loves to be loved, but he doesn’t love in return.

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I am sorry for your loss, Inquisitor.

this already went triple platinum in my room are you kidding me 😭😭😭😭

i read this and instantly had to reread it. it’s already one of my favorite fics to revisit. like gawd this one hurt SO GOOD and so bad. it was perfect.

i’m convinced if this fic ever vanished off the face of planet a part of me would die… i’m so serious!!!

how long will we fall

pairing: jungkook x reader

wordcount: 14k

glimpse: if it’s fate, it should already be set onto your skin — that’s why jungkook’s initials are already on your finger. he’s always there for you, but not only for you. if you’re his fate, he’d rather not have it.

alternatively, jungkook’s your soulmate, but he doesn’t want to be.

[ soulmate au, painful f2l, unrequited love (at first), a lot of angst, more fluff n wholesome moments, emotional constipation, yearning, jealousy, swearing, reverse cards that make u cheer, redemption arc, i swear to u that this does not hurt as much as heartburn did ]

notes: i’m back with a big fic!!! :D this was originally supposed to be named something else but i realized that the title was Too Serious and u know what,,, ten listens later as i write this, i realized that i’m obsessed with this song that i received from this ask and wow thank u so much anon <33 although the rec isn’t originally for this fic, it fits perfectly and i can’t thank u enough <33

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!! even replying to this post sends me over the moon :)

Keep reading

BTS [방탄소년단] MASTER LIST

Updated: 03/01/2020

navigation | faq

DISCLAIMER - Copyrighted © by biasrekkers. All rights reserved. Reposting/modifying our work is prohibited. Translations are not allowed. Plagiarism/stealing is not tolerated by any means. Legal action will be taken in instances of theft.

LEGEND:  

[♤] - Modern  [♧] - Sci-Fi [♡] - Supernatural/Fantasy [♢] - Period [✪] - Angst [✷] - Horror [✿] - Fluff/Romance [❂] - Trigger Warning [☾] - Violence [★] - Safe For Work [SFW] [☆] - Not Safe For Work [NSFW] [✓] - Complete Works [✘] - Incomplete Works

- S E R I E S -

► MAKE IT RIGHT (Mafia!AU) [ ♤ ✿ ✪ ❂ ☾ ☆ ✓ ] by Admin E TUMBLR | AO3 | WP ⇋ bts x original characters [ feat. MonstaX ] Prologue 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 Epilogue

► EDGE OF FOREVER (Space!AU) [ ♧ ✪ ✿ ❂ ☆ ☾ ✘ ] by Admin L TUMBLR | AO3 ⇋ bts x original characters 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21

- D R A B B L E S -

► COMING SOON 

- S E R I E S -

► COMING SOON

- D R A B B L E S -

► THE SWEETEST THINGS (Chef!Seokjin) [ ♤ ✿ ✪  ☆ ✓ ] by Admin L ⇋ kim seokjin x female reader TUMBLR | AO3

►  STAY WITH ME (Dystopian!AU) [ ♤ ✿ ✪ ❂ ★ ✓ ] by Admin L ⇋ kim seokjin x original female character  AO3 |  1 2 3

- S E R I E S -

► COMING SOON

- D R A B B L E S -

► TOUCH IN THE DARK (Dystopian!AU) [ ♤ ✿ ✪ ❂ ★ ✓ ] by Admin E ⇋ min yoongi x original female character TUMBLR | AO3

► THE GIRL IN THE WINDOW (Neighbor!AU) [ ♤ ✿ ★ ✓ ] by Admin E ⇋ min yoongi x female reader TUMBLR | AO3

- S E R I E S -

► COMING SOON

- D R A B B L E S -

► COMING SOON

- S E R I E S -

► NO WORDS - HER (Idol!AU) [ ♤ ✿ ❂ ☾ ☆ ✘ ] by Admin T ⇋ kim namjoon x original character

► COMING SOON

- D R A B B L E S -

► YOU CAN’T LIVE WITHOUT ME (BreakUp!AU) [ ♤ ✪ ★ ✓ ] by Admin E ⇋ kim namjoon x original female character TUMBLR | AO3

► SHOULDN’T BE (Dystopian!AU) [ ♤ ✿ ✪ ❂ ★ ✓ ] by Admin L ⇋ kim namjoon x original female character AO3 | 1 2 3

- S E R I E S -

► COMING SOON

- D R A B B L E S -

► COMING SOON

- S E R I E S -

► NO WORDS (Idol!AU/Poly!AU) [ ♤ ✿ ❂ ☾ ☆ ✘ ] by Admin T ⇋ kim taehyung x original character [ft. jjk.] 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20

⇋ Interlude [ ♤ ✿ ❂ ☾ ☆ ✓ ] - A flashback to events prior to No Words. Able to read independently or right after Chapter 6. I II III IV V

- D R A B B L E S -

► WAY TO YOU (Dystopian!AU) [ ♤ ✿ ✪ ❂ ★ ✓ ] by Admin T ⇋ kim taehyung x original character 1 2 3

- S E R I E S -

► COMING SOON

- D R A B B L E S -

► SINCERELY, YOURS (Dystopian!AU) [ ♤ ✿ ✪ ❂ ★ ✓ ] by Admin E ⇋ jeon jungkook x original female character TUMBLR | AO3

► TO MY BED (Idol!AU) [ ♤ ❂ ★ ✘ ] by Admin L ⇋ jeon jungkook x original female character AO3 | 1 2

Tears of Andromeda

For the @bangtanscenery​ - April Showers Bring May Flowers Project in celebration of the Spring Season!

Plot: Namjoon loves you. You are the sun to his moon. It’s been this way since you were young. But your oblivious nature is only apart of your charm. When he’s finally ready to confess to you? You’re already taken. Broken-hearted he goes to your favorite spot. For the first time he allows himself to cry. Then he hears it - like the liquid tinkling of tiny bells. The subtle glow of stars falling from his eyes starts the countdown.

Rating: PG-13 // SFW

Genre: StarTears!AU | angst | romance | drama 

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x Female OC (Mia Graves)

Warnings: Mild language, angst, lots of pining

Links: FAQ || BTS Masterlist || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]

Word Count: 4.2K

AN: So, I was tooling around on the twitter and found something in my feed. I had been reading it over and over trying to wrap my head around it. So, here is my interpretation of the StarTears!AU. Here is the thread in question - https://twitter.com/rchimedesu/status/1246209686682185730?s=20. Other than that? I don’t think I’ve ever written so much pining in all my life. I hope you enjoy and I hope to see more StarTears fics in the near future!

© thebiasrekkers (Admin T). All rights reserved. Reposting/modifying our work is prohibited. Translations are not allowed. Plagiarism/stealing is not tolerated by any means. Legal action will be taken in instances of theft.

It hurts. 

Namjoon collapsed onto the bench, a hand clutching over his heart. Panting, he willed the trembling muscle to calm. His lungs burned as he fought to catch a deep breath. His nostrils flared as he fought back the creeping panic inside of him. This was a pain different from any other. His memory rolls back to her enthusiastically kissing another man. The words that he had mustered the courage to speak swallowed back bitterly. She turns to see him, mouth agape in shock, staring. 

The confusion on her face made the moment all that more embarrassing. Because she couldn’t understand the pain etched into his face. Her brows furrowed as he wore that devastation so deeply. It almost looked as if he had witnessed the greatest betrayal. She reached out to him, suddenly wanting to pull him closer - and he ran. Namjoon turned on his heel to escape her. He took off in a dead run across the college campus. There would be no catching him, she knew that. Her boyfriend, just as conflicted, puts a hand on her shoulder and squeezes. A small amount of comfort as he wondered what he just saw. He wondered if she saw that broken-hearted gaze stealing the light from Namjoon’s eyes? He wondered if she knew? 

Did she ever know?

And now?

I’ve lost her. 

Namjoon sits in their favorite spot as the sun settles low in the sky. The vivid orange-blue, purple dusk of night time brings him little comfort. His bottom lip trembled, eyes closed, as his head fell backward. The oil-slick flickers behind his eyes deepen as his memories flood in.

It wasn’t uncommon to see strangers moving into the neighborhood. It was strange when they didn’t look the same. It became the talk of the town when Mia’s family settled in. Namjoon was 5 years old when he laid eyes on 3-year-old Mia Graves. His family knew her parents and were quite surprised when they showed up with their newly adopted daughter. It was no secret that they had a hard time conceiving - and had pondered adoption. So when they finally returned home with a beautiful dark-haired, hazel-eyed toddler? They couldn’t find a moment of peace. 

Luckily, it wasn’t Mia - a curious toddler, she was easily entertained with the simplest things. It was from the questions being fielded about how there was an obvious difference in their child’s heritage. 

She hadn’t started speaking, while stressful, gave them hope that she’d pick up another language just as quickly. There was a large Summer gathering that brought all the families together. Namjoon was smart enough to understand that there was something different about her. She played easily with the children in their age range. Mia had a habit of hyper-focusing on things that caught her interest. Namjoon saw this for the first time when a butterfly wobbled by to land on a flower. He felt his brow furrow as she knelt down to watch it. It seemed like an eternity before she blinked. He felt something strange as he watched the slow, soft smile that formed. 

“Wouldn’t that be cute?” Namjoon’s mother quipped loudly. She was on her third glass of wine as she nudged Mia’s mother. “We should let them get married!” Mia’s mother sputtered her drink giving the other woman a wide-eyed look. 

“Don’t do that to them, they’re just kids.” Her brow furrowed as if something unpleasant had been stirred in her own memory.

“Nonsense!” Namjoon’s mother waved the thought off. “Joonie! You should be Mia’s protector!” His father groaned, slipping back inside the house. Mia’s father held up his hands as her mother implored silently to assist in the conversation.

Namjoon pouted, “Mo-ooo-oom. She’s a girl!” Typical tiny human behavior. Namjoon’s mother tutted as she escorted him over to where Mia remained captivated by something so small and simple. 

“Mia, honey.” Namjoon’s mother took his hand - and hers. “My Namjoon is going to protect you ok?” Namjoon groaned as the other little boys snickered off to the side. His mother put Mia’s hand in his, smelling slightly of fermented fruits and sugar. “Look how cute!” She stood leaving the two staring at their connected hands.

Namjoon scratched at the back of his neck, trying to focus on anything else. “Don’t mind my mom. She’s really nosy.” He scoffed tilting his head down to Mia. His next words were cut as Mia’s wide-eyed look was aimed at their gathered hands. 

She looked up at him, with that slow, soft spreading smile. “Hi, Namjoon.” His name sounded strange coming from her. He couldn’t tell what it was - but he knew he liked it. His hand closed over hers. 

The fullness of her smile crinkled the corner of her eyes, the sunlight fading behind them gave her eyes an almost golden glow. 

“Hi, Mia. Don’t worry about anything, ok?” He knelt down to her level. “I’ll protect you.” 

“Why do you have to be so weird, Mia?” The taller boy stomped on her notebook with a grin. She’d been following the local butterfly swarms. The notebook held detailed drawings of wings, color variations, and the flowers they frequented. There was a pink flush underneath the warm brown of her skin. She narrowed her eyes until they seemed to resemble feline slits. The taller boy and his friends smirked as she walked toward him. “What’re you going to do, eh?” 

Before she could open her mouth, let alone swing that cocked right arm, there was the sound of impact as he hit the ground hard. The tall boy got knocked down a peg as Namjoon seemed to drive him into the ground with his shoulder. There was a hissing poof as the boy lost the air in his lungs. Namjoon stood up looking down on the bully with unbridled fury in his eyes. The boy’s friends decided it was no longer worth the trouble as they helped him up. 

The sound of a weak cough echoed in the distance as they made their escape. Namjoon turned to Mia gently trying to salvage scrap pieces of paper. Her lip tucked between her teeth as she sighed. 

“Hey.” He finally turned to help her gather the pieces of paper. The smeared drawings were handed over to her. “..I’m sorry, I-I should have been here sooner.” 

Mia shook her head, that soft, slow-spreading smile that made his heart stutter. “Thank you, Namjoon.” 

He scratched the back of his neck as he stood. Namjoon’s gaze was off in the distance as he lowered a hand to help her up. “Come on, let’s get home.” 

“Happy Birthday, Nam-Joooonniieee! Happy Birthday to yoouuu!” Sung in various degrees of unison. Namjoon groaned while blowing out the candles on his 17th birthday cake. A sound of applause echoed as the parents dropped their gifts on a table. “Alright, kids behave - but have fun!” The adults adjourned to the kitchen. 

“You’re a man now!” A thick hand clapped Namjoon’s shoulder, “Maybe you’ll grow a little taller now?” Blake grinned down at Namjoon. 

“Dude, we’ll never be as tall as you,” Namjoon smirked, clapping his hand against the other boy’s shoulder. Blake was a month older than Namjoon, but he was already 6’1”! Blake stood out mostly because of the gentle demeanor inside of that large frame. “We are turning into men, aren’t we?” The other boys gathered around to spy the party guests. 

Girls. 

The girls they went to school with. The girls that had been a part of their childhoods. These girls were blossoming into puberty right alongside them. That awkward stage of life when you realize the destructive power of hormones. How had they gone from ‘eww, girls’ to ‘ooh, girls’ so quickly? The girls, paying them no mind, turned their eyes on them. The boys quickly averted their gazes, feeling their ears heat-up at the sudden attention. The girls shrugged and continued to talk about their own changes.

“Mia is really pretty,” Blake spoke softly, as they all snuck a glance over to the group again. 

Namjoon felt the muscle in his jaw tick. “Mia is Mia. Come on. Let’s not get all sappy, ok? W-We’re men over here!” He gave a curt nod. “We should talk about boy things. This is my birthday, after all, gentlemen.” They cleared their throats and laughed loudly. They laughed at half-mustaches and acne. They laughed at the voices cracking and still too high. 

But every once and awhile, they stole glances over to the girls. 

Later that night when the bulk of their school friends left - it was just a gathering of childhood buddies. 

And a bottle.

“Come on, Blake! It’s your turn!” They did their best to keep their activities quiet. The adults were busy relaxing after a long day. 

“Spin the bottle already!” Namjoon pushed his best friend. 

“Ok, ok!” Blake spun the bottle with shaking fingers. They all watched it laughing as the bottle started to slow. 

“I bet he gets to kiss Namjoon.” A girl, Ava, chuckled leaning into Mia while giggling. That giggling stopped when Mia gasped. Blake blinked as he and Mia locked eyes. 

“Oh, w-wow. You got Mia.” Namjoon could find his voice suddenly. 

“Go on then! Stop stalling!” Another boy piped up on the other side of Namjoon. 

“Oh, this is ridiculous!” Mia popped up on her knees, her hands framing Blake’s face. “It’s just a peck.” She hoped he didn’t feel the tremble in her fingers. She leaned forward, lips pursed, dotting them against his mouth. “There!” 

The world was hot, dry, and dark for a mere few seconds when their lips connected. Namjoon found himself grabbing his chest. The others fell over laughing and making faces. Blake turned three whole shades redder than normal. He blinked slowly, letting his fingers sliding against his lip. 

“My turn!” Ava spun the bottle eagerly. Namjoon was in a state of shock, unable to comprehend the sensation rolling through him. 

“OOooOooh, Ava gets to kiss Namjoon!” That brought him out of his stupor in enough time to see Ava pursing her lips. He swallowed thickly as she smashed her lips to his in a far longer connection than he had liked. 

Bewildered, Namjoon turned to Mia who merely chuckled at his state. 

The rest of the friends filed out of the house. Leaving Mia and Namjoon to clean up the mess. Both of them were stuck in a loop of awkward - until he broke the silence. “Did you like it?” 

Mia hummed a soft response, “It was a nice party.” She swiped a row of cups into a garbage bag. She felt Namjoon’s hands on her shoulders, he spun her around the dark brown of his eyes hard. 

“I mean...I meant...with Blake?” He seemed startled at this moment of bravery. He moved his hands from her shoulders, scratching at the nape of his neck. 

“The kiss?” Mia tilted her head as if she had forgotten about the whole ordeal. “Namjoon it was just a peck. It wasn’t even a real kiss.” She gave him a dour expression. “I sure as heck don’t count it as a kiss. There’s no meaning behind it. It’s just a game.” Her body was half turned from him as she went to dump more garbage. 

“I mean it was your first kiss, wasn’t it?” Namjoon furrowed his brow as if he realized he was overthinking it. 

“No way! That’s not how my first kiss is going to go.” She sputtered into laughter. He suddenly felt lighter with the sound. “No, Kim Namjoon. My first kiss will be ...amazing.” There was a thoughtful expression that caused her eyes to sparkle. His heart wanted to break free of his chest and leap into the tender embrace of her hands. “And besides, Ava has had a crush on you forever. You should be lucky.” She gave him a soft elbow to the ribs. “Come on, we have finals next week. I need to get home.” 

That soft, slow-spreading smile undid him every time. He scoffed into a laugh. “Ava has a crush on all the boys that are taller than her. It’ll pass.” He watched her laugh while joining her to clean up the mess. 

She was right, though. Her first kiss would be amazing.

It just wouldn’t be him.

Finals were over and Summer dawned on their neighborhoods. They were being pressured to consider the rest of their life - i.e, College. Namjoon would be a Senior in the fall. He had the best grades so his school wasn’t a concern. 

Leaving Mia behind was.

The sweltering heat of Summer became a time of awareness. The boys had developed muscle going through the changes of adolescence. The girls were glowing and mesmerizing as they tested lip tints and soft makeup. 

Blake confessed to Mia - and for some reason? It didn’t bother Namjoon at all. Blake was his best friend. Mia was his best friend. He was happy for Blake, truly. But, he knew something that his best friend didn’t. He knew Mia. He knew her better than anyone else - and they were not compatible. 

A camping trip to the woods, splashing in the river and the crackle of a fire at night. The friends were gathered to make memories. Blake kissed Mia under the moon by the river with the glow of the fire behind them. It was a sloppy attempt coupled with Blake getting a little too handsy for Mia’s liking. 

“Oh, come on, Mia!” He furrowed his brow as she narrowed her eyes at him. “I just touched your hip” He seemed bewildered by her annoyance. “They do it in the movies when kisses happen.”

“Blake, this isn’t a movie. Don’t you think you need to make sure I'm ready to take that kind of step?” The annoyance turned to hurt as he seemed to brush off the suggestion. 

“Man, I’m going back to the fire. This is dumb.” He scoffed making quick work to join the others. 

Mia sighed with her head lowered, the shift of fabric over her shoulders caused her to close her eyes. She didn’t even have to ask. “Hi, Joonie.” That soft, slow-spreading smile lifted to his taller frame. 

“Hey, kiddo. Need some company?” He let his arm drape across her shoulders as they stared up at the stars.  

“Yeah.” She watched as he turned his gaze skyward. Her head tilted as she studied his profile. Namjoon had really filled out over the summer. Broad in chest and shoulders, arms defined, a perfect side profile set with a strong jawline. She found herself staring at the fullness of his lips. The heat crept into her face as she tilted her gaze someplace else. “Thanks, Namjoon.” 

He hummed a soft response tugging her closer into the shadow of his body.

School started 

Everybody had changed over the summer - grown and filled out. It was exciting, and it was competitive. Namjoon focused on his studies as per usual, making time for football as he could. He, like the rest of his friends, was determined to build more muscle. The girls were into their looks a bit more. 

Homecoming was close. 

New faces joined their circle. New friendships were built and old ones? Well.

It was a few weeks before Homecoming in the Varsity Locker room - and boys will be boys. 

“I think that Mia girl is hot,” Namjoon heard someone quip. “...maybe I can ask her to homecoming. That’s one kiss I’d savor for life.” There was male laughter as he rolled his eyes. 

“Nah, that one is a bit of a prude.” Namjoon yanked the shirt down over his shoulders at the voice that spoke up. “I tried to kiss her and she got all skittish. It was the perfect moment too! Under the moon, by the river.” Blake stood up, he had the audacity to have grown another 3 inches over the Summer. “..I was perfect.” 

“You were impatient.” Namjoon finally butted in, his arms crossed as he smirked. “There’s nothing wrong with asking a girl for permission. You better get that through your head, all of you.” A hint of disappointment in his tone. “While, yes, the girls are pretty - we still have to act like decent human beings. This is not the time to go thinking with your pants parts.” Blake scoffed as the mood was suddenly broken.

The guys filed out as Namjoon hefted his bag over his shoulder. 

“You should tell her you like her,” Blake spoke up now that they were alone. 

“What are you talking about?” Namjoon gave him an incredulous look. 

“Namjoon, we’re not stupid.” Blake’s arms were crossed against his chest. “At least I’m not. I’ve seen you looking at her since we were kids.” He shook his head as he shrugged on his jacket. “You better make your move before it’s too late. Again.” 

Namjoon smiled, the dimples setting in his cheeks, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I don’t have anything to worry about, Blake. When the time is right. I will.” There was a moment of awkward silence before they left. 

Homecoming Week

“Mia Graves will you be my Homecoming date?” A bouquet of calla lilies was presented to her in the hallway. A boy on the floor with a declaration. He could see that strawberry tinge under the warm brown of her skin. 

“Seojoon, you big softie you. Of course I’ll be your date.” She laughed as he picked her up and swung her around. 

He was too late, again. 

Homecoming Night

Everybody swayed to the tune of a slow song. Seojoon and Mia kissed - and it was amazing. They decideD to start dating. Namjoon rejected Ava for the last time.

Christmas Break

Namjoon was settling into leisurely reading when he received a text message. 

Mia: Joonie.

He knew that she only called him that when something is wrong.

Joonie: Just come over, Mia.

He fixed hot chocolate and found the fuzzy warm blankets. She showed up minutes later her eyes red from crying. He pulled her in out of the cold, then bundled her up with hot chocolate and blankets. She fell asleep against his chest and he hoped it would stop beating so hard against her ear.

“We broke up.” Her voice was small. “Maybe they’re right? I’m just weird aren’t I?” There was a bitter tone that he wasn’t used to.

“No, Mia. You’re just...different from everyone else. And you know what?” He pushed the coils from her face. “That’s perfectly alright. Plus, you know I’m here for you.” A dimpled smile set her at ease.

“Thanks, Namjoon.” That soft, slow-spreading smile that she gave no one else. Even during the course of her relationship with Seojoon? She never smiled like that for anyone but him.

He pulled her against him again.

Let us go forth and claim our heart’s desire. Let us go forth and forge new paths. Let’s go forward.” Namjoon looked out amongst his classmates, gathered family and friends. “We were pushed to succeed by those around us. Now we move further forward to make them proud and realize our dreams. My friends - we take our first steps today.” There was applause for the Valedictorian Kim Namjoon. He moved his tassel to the other side of his cap and the rest followed.

“Congratulations to us all.” 

The day passes by in a blur as they gather, as they always had, at his house. 

“We did it!” A yell in unison as they raised their glasses. Namjoon was leaving for a college quite the distance away. But, its reputation was hard to deny.  The house slowly empties as he begins to clean up. 

“You’re going to forget about me.” Mia pouted as she helped clean up. 

“I could never forget about you.” He laughed softly. She missed that fond lovelorn look that filled his gaze. Too busy picking up trash to realize the nervousness bubbling within him. “Plus we have email.”               

Mia laughed, a sound he had sorely missed. “That’s true.” She bit into the meat of her bottom lip. “I’m going to miss you, Joonie.” 

“I’m always closer than I seem, Mia. Remember that.” They shared a quiet smile. 

The Summer was upon them again. 

Namjoon spent that summer making memories with Mia. Taking pictures, going to places they said they wanted to visit together. He felt like she might understand - that she might just see what he’d been hiding - harboring all these years. 

Mia realized that Namjoon has really grown into a dependable, wonderful man. 

The Summer ended - and Namjoon leaves for college. He promises to be back for her High School graduation.

“Do you have everything?” He asks softly. Mia was a bundle of nerves trying to arrange her speech. 

“How the hell did you do this?” She whines softly. 

“Just breathe. You’ve got this.” The connection is full of static. “I’m really sorry I couldn’t be there, Mia. I didn’t think this internship would get extended.” 

“Joonie, stop. You’re living your dream right now. I appreciate you calling me. It’s...good to hear your voice.” She smiled softly to him even as the video glitched. “Plus, I’ll see you when you get back right? By the time I get settled on campus - you should be back!” 

He smiled at the screen. “Exactly. Now, go knock them dead! And tell my dad not to shake the camera or I’ll get pissed.” He playfully furrowed his brow, causing them both to laugh. 

“You got it!” She blew him a kiss, checked her reflection in the camera. “I’ll talk to you later, Joonie.” She gave him that soft, slow-spreading smile. “Thank you, Namjoon.” 

Mia had matured so much since he left. She was a beautiful woman. Those hazel eyes had lightened over time to something like warm gold. The springy coils of her hair were tipped in a dark purple. He still saw the little girl that stole his heart all that time ago. “No problem, Mia.” 

The video call disconnected but his gaze lingered on the screen. He was stuck in the UK for an internship for the next four months. He should have been back but he did such an excellent job - they extended his time. 

He made the decision then and there; that he would confess. 

The internship lasted six months instead of four. He wasn’t able to keep in touch with Mia like he wanted. There were sporadic emails and text messages - but the art house firm he worked for was world renown. He got back home to visit his family before heading back to the dorm. 

He told them to keep his return a secret. He wanted to surprise her. 

Namjoon was the one surprised. This stunning woman was leaning against a man who nuzzled into the space where her neck met her shoulder. There was this bright smile painted across her face. The man spun her around in his arms as she looped hers around his neck. He kept walking toward them because he couldn’t believe his eyes. He hoped it was some sordid illusion playing out in front of him. Mia reached up to cup this man’s face as he spoke to her. Their foreheads touched as she leaned up to kiss him. The Mia who had shown little interest in the males around her - was enthusiastically kissing another man. 

“Mia?” The couple was disturbed by the calling of her name. Mia’s eyes went wide as she saw Namjoon looking perplexed - no...betrayed? 

“Joonie?” He looked different than the last time they spoke. She was awash in a sensation, an emotion that left her robbed of words. Namjoon looked between her and the man with his hand around her waist. 

Pain exploded in his chest as he backed away from her. He turned on his heel - and he ran. She called after him to no avail. She was left confused, watching him disappear into the distance. Why did that bother her so much? Why did that expression on his face give her pause? She felt her boyfriend’s hand squeeze at her shoulder. He tilted his head down to her catching the confusion etched in her features.

Her boyfriend hadn’t felt a need for jealousy since they met. But now? He watched a man lose his very spirit at seeing her with someone else. Did she see the light leave his eyes? 

Did she really even know? 

Namjoon’s heart was quiet as the moon rose in the night sky. He was too late, again. It hurt. It hurt because he was sure this time. It hurt because he was so sure that there would be no one but him for her. 

No one for her but him. 

His vision blurred as tears filled his eyes and he could do nothing but let them fall. The streams turned to full out sobbing within minutes. 

The sound of little bells chiming in the wind caused him to stare at his hands. The ethereal glow of starlight emanated from the pooled tears. A soft wind chime echoed as a breeze blew across his face. His gaze turned to the sky once more.

His vision blurred again as the star-filled streams slid down his face. 

The sobs shook him as he wept. He cried because the one thing he wanted to be was gone. 

His head fell back against nothing as he noticed that the moon wasn’t as bright and the night seemed to creep in the corners of his vision. 

Namjoon sat listlessly as his celestial tears sparkled in the wind.

Tears of Andromeda

For the @bangtanscenery​ - April Showers Bring May Flowers Project in celebration of the Spring Season!

Plot: Namjoon loves you. You are the sun to his moon. It’s been this way since you were young. But your oblivious nature is only apart of your charm. When he’s finally ready to confess to you? You’re already taken. Broken-hearted he goes to your favorite spot. For the first time he allows himself to cry. Then he hears it - like the liquid tinkling of tiny bells. The subtle glow of stars falling from his eyes starts the countdown.

Rating: PG-13 // SFW

Genre: StarTears!AU | angst | romance | drama 

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x Female OC (Mia Graves)

Warnings: Mild language, angst, lots of pining

Links: FAQ || BTS Masterlist || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]

Word Count: 4.2K

AN: So, I was tooling around on the twitter and found something in my feed. I had been reading it over and over trying to wrap my head around it. So, here is my interpretation of the StarTears!AU. Here is the thread in question - https://twitter.com/rchimedesu/status/1246209686682185730?s=20. Other than that? I don’t think I’ve ever written so much pining in all my life. I hope you enjoy and I hope to see more StarTears fics in the near future!

© thebiasrekkers (Admin T). All rights reserved. Reposting/modifying our work is prohibited. Translations are not allowed. Plagiarism/stealing is not tolerated by any means. Legal action will be taken in instances of theft.

It hurts. 

Namjoon collapsed onto the bench, a hand clutching over his heart. Panting, he willed the trembling muscle to calm. His lungs burned as he fought to catch a deep breath. His nostrils flared as he fought back the creeping panic inside of him. This was a pain different from any other. His memory rolls back to her enthusiastically kissing another man. The words that he had mustered the courage to speak swallowed back bitterly. She turns to see him, mouth agape in shock, staring. 

The confusion on her face made the moment all that more embarrassing. Because she couldn’t understand the pain etched into his face. Her brows furrowed as he wore that devastation so deeply. It almost looked as if he had witnessed the greatest betrayal. She reached out to him, suddenly wanting to pull him closer - and he ran. Namjoon turned on his heel to escape her. He took off in a dead run across the college campus. There would be no catching him, she knew that. Her boyfriend, just as conflicted, puts a hand on her shoulder and squeezes. A small amount of comfort as he wondered what he just saw. He wondered if she saw that broken-hearted gaze stealing the light from Namjoon’s eyes? He wondered if she knew? 

Did she ever know?

And now?

I’ve lost her. 

Namjoon sits in their favorite spot as the sun settles low in the sky. The vivid orange-blue, purple dusk of night time brings him little comfort. His bottom lip trembled, eyes closed, as his head fell backward. The oil-slick flickers behind his eyes deepen as his memories flood in.

Keep reading

Phantom

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader Genre: Heavy Angst, Parent AU, Bittersweet Fluff Rating: PG15 Words: 3.9k Warnings: major character death, hospitals, mentions of a road accident, mentions of blood, trauma, emotional turmoil, lots and lots of hurt i’m sorry

Summary: “It’s your papa and mama’s song.”

Note: Inspired by SEKAI NO OWARI’s 幻の命 (Maboroshi no Inochi/Life of Phantom)

Tagging my support team @mygsii​​ and @starlightseoks​​ who gave me validation when I needed. Love you! ❤️❤️❤️ Part of @bangtanscenery​‘s April Showers Bring May Flowers Collab

You’re in a field filled with yellow and orange flowers. Bunny shaped clouds fill the sky on a beautiful blue canvas. You see a small child – your child – a few metres in front of you, picking the flowers and squealing in glee. Yoongi is crouching next to Sunmi, gummy smile present as she hands him flower after flower.

This is a dream, you think to yourself, it has to be.

Keep reading

I don’t know why I’m so dumb and read angsty fics when they make me nauseous, but congratulations you had me gagging.👏

😭😈😭😈 okay so i have never done this so if i do it wrong i am sorry. Could you do Dialogue prompt #3? With Bucky? Where he insults the reader a lot and he isn't very fond of her being on the Team. And looks for any excuse to berate her ... Pretty please :))

Warnings: degrading, insults, language, Bucky is a piece of work.

Bucky Barnes despised you and you were lucky enough to grind his nerves without even doing anything to get on the wrong side of him to begin with. He's hated you from the moment you stepped through the guarded doors downstairs and wonders if the team was crazy having someone like you on it.

"You're a fucking walking disaster!" He spat at you one day, walking past you for no reason when you were sat on the bench in the gym taking a swig of your water after running for 5 miles on the treadmill.

You did your best to avoid the asshole. He hated you so it made it easier to hate him too.

Missions with Bucky was the worst thing you could ever imagine. You and Bucky were in Russia to infiltrate a Hydra base and a guard shot at you, luckily for your quick instincts and training you had successfully shot the guard dead, no thanks to your partner. "Thanks for the backup, Buck!" You growled. "Oh shit. I'm sorry doll. Watch out there's a guard shooting at you!" He mocked pointing to the already dead soldier on the ground. "Please Y/N I'm not your fucking babysitter, watch your own goddamn back." He stormed off continuing the mission regardless if you were behind him or not. Sometimes you wished a giant wormhole would suck his annoying ass up. That would really make your day.

The insults and mockery never faltered when you arrived home from that russian mission. Bucky used everything he could against you, even stooping as low as using your abandoned family as a way to hurt you, and it did but you never told him yet because he would love that. His insults were said when it was just you two around, because you had often wanted to talk to Steve about Bucky's behaviour, but you had no proof. He was like two different people, alone with you he was really cruel but in front of the team he ignored you.

You were sitting alone on the corner couch eating some candy bars in the common room watching reruns of friends in the background when the man of your nightmares strolled in. He snatched the candy bar from your hand and threw it in the trash. "I was fucking eating that you dumb fuck!" You seethed. "well tough shit, you're already a fat ass you don't need that shit encouraging you." His words stung. But he was too far gone to care about your feelings and you knew he wanted you off the team and was doing everything he could think of to get you off it.

It was a new day and you had decided not to let Bucky get to you, easier said than done. You had to attend a meeting in the debriefing room and your luck wasn't on your side today as you were seated right opposite Bucky. His eyes boring into you.

The meeting was a waste of time, this mission you wasn't needed because they needed a woman who could seduce men and Natasha was first pick for that.

"no offence Y/N but you're not Nat." Steve smiled apologetically.

With your arms crossed unamused, "I have never been so insulted!" You quipped back with a scoff.

Bucky laughed shaking his head, "you don't listen much do you? Good choice though Steve I mean she's definitely nothing like Nat. Natalia is gorgeous and talented and this... This thing just belongs in the trash."

That was the last straw, his abuse was taking its toll on you and you stood up abruptly walking out of the meeting without a word, leaving your files behind and going back to your room. Maybe you should just give him what he wants, he wants you gone right? Well gone you are.

A knock on your door stilled your pacing and you muttered a come in, and you could have keeled over when Bucky walked in looking sorry.

"I'm sor-"

"I quit." You cut him off. He looks surprised and raises his eyebrows.

"that's what you want right? That's why you degrade me, insult me all the time and went a step further and degraded me in front of my friends and my colleagues. I quit."

"Y/N plea-"

"get out of my room Bucky."

"Look please just lis-"

"GET OUT!!!" your chest heaved up and down and so much adrenaline running through your body, you slumped down on the floor in front of your bed with your knees hugging your chest, for the first time wondering what the hell you were going to do with your life.

70 chapters into love for sale and im realising that i’m just not into this story like at all 😭

30 chapters left though so i have to slug it out !! maybe i’ll feel differently once i’m done

WAIT i just finished reading it and i love it !!

still super curious to know what the main couple’s age gap is… it was never clarified… …

PROMISE ME || JJK x OC xKNJ

Genre: Military AU, Romance, friends to lovers, love triangle, unrequited love, angst, fluff, smut, tragedy.

Pairing: Namjoon x female!reader, Jungkook x female!reader

Smut warnings: fingering, slight breeding kink, unprotected sex, homecoming sex, longing, emotional sex. OC x JJK. UPDATED now to include OC x KNJ

Warnings: Major character death (It’s Jungkook), Swearing. Special Ops / War. Grieving. Separation anxiety. PTSD. Pregnancy. Very very brief mention of domestic violence (in the context of a conversation). SO MUCH SWEETNESS AND HEALING. If you’re actually military field personnel, please do not read this.

Rating: Mature (Over 18s only)

WC: 18k

Notes: In this AU, JK and OC are the same age, which is one year younger than Namjoon. Just work with me here, okay? Also, I have deliberately kept the identity of their country ambiguous.

Big big thanks to @hobi-gif, @jinfizz for the huge editing work they did

Story collaborator: @httpnamjoonie94reads. Please contact her if you ever are stuck with a story idea. I swear to you, she will give you your breakthrough.

Professional Reassure-er who gives me courage: @bangtanmademedoit

Cheerleaders who give me strength: @xjoonchildx @lcksndkys @yeoldontknow @yournameyn

Two lovelies who hype me up: @shatzkrinslinzki and @vantxx95 Life is better with you.

***********************

“Olympus to Icarus 01. Where are you now? Need your ten digit map grid. Over.”

Namjoon checks the map. “Icarus 01 to Olympus. Ten digit grid 1406834822. Request for immediate air support and casualty assistance. Heavy enemy fire. Over.”

“Namjoon…” Jungkook is groaning.

“Roger that. 1406834822. Helos on the way. Casualty assistance and close air support. ETA 10 minutes. Over.”

The line crackles before it dies out as suddenly as it came alive.

“Fucking comms!” Namjoon shouts at the now useless satellite phone. Here in the mountains, the comms have been abysmal. His attention quickly moves to Jungkook, whose breathing has turned ragged. Blood seeps through the rough tourniquet on his thigh, and the young man is ashen-faced.

Namjoon grabs more dirt from the ground to pack it into the wound to staunch the bleeding.

“Hyung? I’m not going to make it.”

“Ten minutes, JK. You’ll fucking make it!” Namjoon shouts over the gunfire which has started up again. They’re lucky they fell into a rock cleft of sorts, temporarily shielding them from the volley of bullets above—but the real test will be during the heli rescue ops, when they’ll be at their most vulnerable.

“Hyung.” Every word is now slow and difficult. “You… you make it. Tell Y/N I love her. Promise me.”

“Fuck no!” Namjoon grabs him by the collar. He can see his own reflection in Jungkook’s dark irises. The fierce camo paint camouflages the features of his face but isn’t thick enough to hide the fear in his eyes. “Goddamnit JK! Tell her yourself!”

The sound of another explosion temporarily deafens them. Shit. Where’s that coming from? Seems like it’s getting nearer.

“It’s going to be okay.” His breaths are shallow now. “Take care of her.” There’s a faint smile on his face as he says this. “Bibimbaps Forever.”

“Don’t fuck around. I’m your commanding officer. Stay. The. Fuck. Alive. That’s an order.”

Jungkook is trying to keep his eyes open, but it’s so hard. “Promise m—”

“It’s an order!”

He’s tired now.

“This is an order! JK!”

The soft plop of the grenade makes it into their rock cleft like an embarrassed guest, late for the party. It rolls down the slope a little before choosing to settle near Petty Officer (First Class) Jeon Jungkook.

Both men see it at the same time.

Jungkook knows Namjoon well enough to predict exactly what his commanding officer, his friend, his hyung is going to do.

With one last ounce of strength, he rushes low to pommel Namjoon away, only to fling himself over the exploding grenade.

The blast throws Namjoon against the rock wall, and his head strikes the hard, unforgiving rock.

The last thing that should register in his brain is the whirl of the helicopters rumbling in the distance.

Instead, Commander Kim Namjoon’s (Special Ops, Indo-Pacific) last coherent thought was how he has never let you down.

Until today.

***********************

The Bibimbaps Forever was formed on a hot summer day, as all reputable childhood clubs are wont to do. Jungkook and Namjoon were playing cops and robbers, but neither wanted to be the bad guy.

“Let’s switch after five minutes,” ten-year old Namjoon, always diplomatic, suggests.

“I’ll go first,” interrupts Jungkook. He may be nine, but already he’s assertive as hell.

“Of course you’ll be first,” Namjoon assures the younger boy, before adding with a smirk, “You’ll be the robber first.”

Quick as lightning, Jeon Jungkook is just about to headbutt Namjoon in the stomach when a voice from the tree branches above stops him.

“Hey! May I play? I don’t mind being the robber.” Immediately, the two boys stare at you.

Hanging upside down now from the lowest branch, your pigtails are askew with mischief, wide smile missing two front teeth. With well-practiced grace, you flip backwards and land in front of them, sassy hands on your hips.

“We don’t—we don’t play with girls…” Jungkook stammers. “Right?” he asks Namjoon uncertainly. Gosh, that no-hands flip sure looked cool though.

Namjoon debates with himself. Aren’t girls supposed to be gross? Why does this one seem normal?

“That’s okay. It’s your juvenile male insecurity that’s driving your motivation to avert emotional and mental anguish when you deny yourself an opportunity to access this thing called fun,” you say breezily. “Y/L/N, 2007.”

Jeon Jungkook is confused. All those big words he doesn’t understand. And what’s with the year at the end? All he can think of is how he wishes he could do that flip like you.

You pity him. Not everyone has a psychologist for a father and a mother. With a dramatic sigh, you look at him solemnly before explaining, “In other words, you’re scared I’m too fast for you.”

The boys look at each other. No way a girl is going to be too fast for them. Namjoon seizes the moment and throws down the gauntlet. “Fine! You’re IT! Five seconds to run before we get you. FIVE. FOUR—”

Before they could count any further, you’ve disappeared in the direction of the bushes. The boys scramble immediately after you, not counting down the remaining three seconds. Who cares about honesty at this point? There’s finally a proper robber now, and he’s—no, she’s fast.

And so the afternoon flies by with lots of games, even more laughter, and a step-by-step tutorial on how to do a no-hands flip from a tree branch.

Exhausted and hungry, the boys look enviously when you pull out a piece of candy from your pocket. It looks imported. You must be rich. They look away, Namjoon suddenly interested in the sky, Jungkook, in the hard, brown earth beneath his feet. The candy is obviously too small to share.

“Hey, wanna make bibimbap in my house? I bet my mom’s still too busy to notice if we raid the fridge,” you ask them, bright and cheerful, the offending candy already shoved deep into your pocket.

“Only if we each bring something,” Namjoon declares. There’s a hint of pride in his voice. “It’s only fair,” he says quickly. He never wants to be indebted to anyone, not even over a free snack.

“Only fair,” you agree, smiling at him.

Jungkook arrives at your house first bearing a little container of cold spinach from last night’s dinner, his big doe eyes shining with glee that he swiped it right from under his mother’s nose.

Namjoon arrives next, huffing and puffing from running in his hopes to beat Jungkook, one fist round with a hidden raw egg, while clasped in his other hand is a bag of chopped cucumber, looking slightly mushy.

They both gaze at you expectantly, waiting for some kind of affirmation. You put on your best chef’s voice and declare:

“Perfect!” (for the limp spinach)

“Very good!” (for the crumbling cucumber)

“Just what we need!” (for the egg, which, thankfully, does not show any signs of cracking under the crush of Namjoon’s palm)

And from your fridge, there is cold rice and mushrooms.

Honestly, the boys have never cooked before nor cared to observe what their mothers did in the kitchen. Watching you heat the rice and fry a sunny side-up egg, they’re rendered silent, as if watching you perform the most elaborate magic trick, turning day-old stuff into actual, appetizing food.

When three pairs of chopsticks finally dig into the little bowl of bibimbap, nothing ever tasted quite as delicious.

On that hot July afternoon, Kim Namjoon, Jeon Jungkook, and L/N, Y/N became the Bibimbaps Forever.

“Say: Bibimbaps Forever!

We’re always super clever!

Give up? No! We’ll never!

The three Bibimbaps Forever!”

***********************

“Where am I?” Namjoon wakes from surgery. Everything hurts. His eyes. His throat. His back. If he takes a piss right now, he’s sure that would hurt too.

Oh yeah. It hurts.

Ths soft touch of his mother’s hand is cool against the heat of his forehead. “At the hospital. The doctor said it’s going to be tough to move around for a while, but you’ll be fine.”

“Where’s JK?”

His mother’s eyes already tell him all he needs to know.

“The rest of the unit made it. They’re all back. It’s Y/N that needs you now. Memorial service is soon.”

“I can’t face her, Ma. JK died because of me. I can’t just—”

His mother leans over and cradles his face, selfishly grateful that her son is alive. “Listen to yourself Kim Namjoon. I did not raise you to run away from hard things.”

“You don’t understand. If not for me, he might—”

“Namjoon.”

Kim Namjoon has never said no to his mother when she uses that tone. And he isn’t going to start now.

“Yes, Ma.”

Pressing a note and photograph into his hands, Namjoon’s mother gives her son an extra squeeze on his wrists. “Mrs. Jeon dropped this off. She found a photograph in his room she wanted you to have. And there’s a letter from JK.”

Blinking back tears from her own eyes, she stands up and kisses the head of her only son. “I’m glad you’re home. I’ll go talk to the doctors and tell them you woke up.”

It’s only when his mother leaves that Namjoon allows himself to look at what’s in his hands.

It’s a photo of him and Jungkook, when they were not yet Bibimbaps Forever, both of them sharing a huge slice of watermelon and grinning at each other, red juice running down their chins and arms.

“Hyung, we’re so lucky!”

“Lucky to have watermelon on a hot day?”

“Lucky to have each other to share this!”

Namjoon had thought it was silly—if he didn’t have to share, there would be more watermelon for him to eat. He took a bigger bite, trying to prove his point.

“Here, have my part too. It’s yours.” With wide innocent eyes, five-year-old Jungkook had held out his half and fed it to Namjoon, startling him.

Namjoon closes his eyes at the memory as he puts down the photograph.

Shit. JK! Why are you always so damn naive! Why are you always so damn giving!

He doesn’t want to read the letter, he’s honest-to-god afraid of what he’ll read in there. But it’s true, his mother did not raise him to run away from hard things. With trembling hands, he fingers the edges of the envelope, decorated with a sketch of three bowls of bibimbap dancing around the border.

Taking a deep breath, he tears open the envelope and reads the last words from the brother who shared everything with him except his last name.

Hyung,

If you’re reading this, I must have been a dumb shit.

You know, I’ve always looked up to you. It’s the way you care for people: the brothers in our unit, for me, for Y/N. It’s something I am always grateful for, something I always try to do myself—care for people like you do.

It was an honor to serve under your command, a privilege to be your friend, an absolute joy to be your brother.

I hope I made you proud.

JK

P.S. Please look after Y/N for me. I don’t trust anyone else. And I will do the same from above. Because… Bibimbaps Forever!

***********************

The Bibimbaps Forever soon fall into the habit of meeting in your home every afternoon. Even when school started in the fall, even with baseball practice and violin lessons and debate club, it is de rigueur to hang out in your kitchen in the evenings before dinner if the three of you can’t do your homework together.

Away from nosy parents or annoying siblings, Namjoon and Jungkook find the sturdy oak dining table in your home a safe harbor where they can be themselves, refuel with food and conversation before plunging back into being the eldest child in each of their families. Elementary school flies by with games galore of cops and robbers, backflips and frontflips, and of course, many, many bowls of bibimbap, always at your home.

Middle school is stressful, with a deluge of homework everyday. You and Namjoon are reading Manga comics at your dining table during a study break, laughing like hyenas when the creak of the kitchen back door announces the arrival of Jungkook.

On instinct, you holler before turning to him, “JK! You’re late! Come and take a look at this! It’s so funn—”

The yellowish blue bruise on his eye stops you. There’s a cut on his eyebrow too.

“You’re bleeding!” Running to get a first aid kit, you miss the knowing glance that passes between the two boys.

“I’ll kill him one day, JK. I swear,” whispers Namjoon. “He can’t keep doing this. Is your mom okay?”

Jungkook nods. “I made sure she’s safe. She and my lil bro are at your house with your mom.”

“What? Who’s safe? Who are you going to kill one day, Joon?” you prattle on, lugging the first aid kit onto the table.

“Nothing,” the boys chorus in unison.

Narrowing your eyes at them, you look them up and down suspiciously. With a dramatic sigh, you flip open the kit, before taking out the antiseptic cream, bandage, and your mother's arnica gel for bruises.

Punctuating your tirade as you plunk each item on the table, you launch into an Oscar-worthy performance. “Of course, I’m just a girl. So I wouldn’t know anything about domestic abuse and alcoholism. I wouldn’t be of any help at all even though my parents work with lawyers and judges and family courts. Courts—who, by the way, can get restraining orders and cops to drive by your house to make sure your family is safe. Yup. It’s nothing.”

The boys stare at you with mouths agape.

“You can do all that?” Namjoon is skeptical. His plan to protect Jungkok had always been to beat up Jungkook’s father one day. What you’re saying was something entirely new.

“No, silly. But if you tell my parents, they can.” Taking out the gauze, you prepare to dab it on his cut. “Now hold still.”

Jungkook looks at you through his remaining good eye as you take care of his wound gently. The tenderness in your fingers feels like heaven after the rough punches thrown by his father.

Finally done with dressing the cut with a clean bandage, you take his hand solemnly in yours and pull Namjoon’s in as well before murmuring quietly, “So what do you say, huh? Bibimbaps Forever?”

The answer is simple and unanimous. “Bibimbaps Forever.”

You didn’t know it then, but it was at this moment when Jeon Jungkook and Kim Namjoon, in their childhood innocence, thought at the same instant that they’d like to marry you when they grow up.

***********************

The memorial service was held in a little church. The entire town turned up to say goodbye to one of their own. But you don’t hear or see any of them.

All you see from the front pew is the black and white photo of him in full military dress, smiling that wide, proud smile of his, and behind, the casket draped in the flag of the republic.

On your finger, the single princess-cut diamond glitters modestly, as if it knows you’re not yet, officially, Mrs. Jeon. Will never be.

Sandwiched between Jungkook’s mother and Namjoon, you’re glad you aren’t here alone, instead, you’re standing with the most important people in Jungkook’s life.

You’ve told yourself you’re all cried out. That Jungkook deserves your dignity. But your body trembles as the voices in the chapel sing the familiar tune Jungkook always hums after he volunteers as a vocal coach with the inner city children’s choir.

“May the road rise to meet you.

May the wind be always at your back.

May the sun shine warm upon your face,

the rains fall soft on your fields.

Namjoon offers his arm to you, and you clasp it gratefully.

“May the sun make your days bright.

May the stars illuminate your night.

May the flowers bloom along your path,

Your house stand firm against the storm…”

As grief wracks your body, you find yourself unable to stand. Leaning against Namjoon, he shifts so he can support you with both arms.

“And until we meet again, until we meet again,

May God hold you in the palm of his hand.”

When the flag of the republic is finally folded in its ceremonial triangular pattern, the honor guard signals for Namjoon to receive the flag for presentation to the Jeon family.

Namjoon whispers into your ear, “You okay?”

You have to be strong now. For Jungkook. “I’m okay. Do what you have to do.”

Namjoon goes up to receive the flag to present it to the primary next of kin as dictated by the order of service.

“Mrs. Jeon?” Namjoon’s voice is soft and fragile.

You will yourself not to look up.

Mrs Jeon—it’s not who you are even though you’ve practiced your new signature a thousand times while he was gone; not who you are even though the honeymoon suite at the hotel was booked in this name and his, not who you will ever be even though that is exactly what he called you when you said yes to his proposal.

“Your son fought well.” Namjoon fights to choke back his tears as he presents the flag to Jungkook’s mother. “He was faithful to this flag all the way.”

You hear her take in a deep, shaky breath before she receives the flag. “You’re a good boy, Namjoon. Thank you for being with him until the very end.”

With nothing to hold in your empty hands, you hold yourself together, and hold back a wave of fresh tears.

Oh JK, I’m lost without you . Give me a map to find my way to you.

***********************

While your schedules are more complicated and more varied now in high school, it’s an unspoken rule to always make it for Jungkook’s swim meets as the Bibimbaps Forever. It’s times like these where you relish being kids again, screaming for Jungkook, celebrating his wins together, and eating bibimbap after the meet at your house with whatever is in your fridge.

As much as Namjoon loves this, he especially cherishes the conversations with you whenever you both have to wait for Jungkook to appear for his swim events.

It’s when you get to talk to him about your love for cartography, and it’s when he can drink you in, the lilt of your voice, the dance of your eyes. You talk a little faster, smile a little wider when you tell him all about old maps, ancient maps planted with fake towns to catch forgers, maps made of silk and gold thread, maps as big as a house, maps worth ten million dollars.

Kim Namjoon naturally falls in love with you, but he makes himself fall in love with maps because you love them.

He learns about the geographic north and the magnetic north (all the while thinking why he’s attracted only to you). He studies about terrain and contour lines (but dreams at night about the curves of your body). He memorizes the names of the ancient map makers: Shen Kuo, Johannes Werner, Urbano Monte, Nain Singh (although the name he sighs is yours).

In short, he’s utterly smitten.

When the high school senior prom rolls around, Namjoon has only one girl in mind to ask as his date.

To ask you to the dance, he'll give you a hand-drawn map of the town. Then he’ll write the coordinates of the prom venue and tell you he wants to meet you there on the night of the school dance. He’s sure you’ll love it.

Ever the perfectionist, Namjoon takes a month to finish the drawings for the elaborate map. A Map For Y/N emblazons the top in bold, and in small, neat letters next to the prom venue, he writes, Dance with me?

He’s just about to get out his battered set of color pencils when he thinks he should go over to Jungkook’s and ask for advice. Surely, Jungkook would know how to add depth and dimension through coloring.

The back gate of Jungkook’s home is held tight by a simple latch. No lock is needed when everything of value has long been sold to feed his father’s drinking habit years ago—at least the old man is out of the picture for good now.

With practiced ease, Namjoon flips it open and hops in quietly. Expecting to cross the backyard easily, he stops short when he sees you and Jungkook lying flat on the grass together staring up at the big night sky, heads comfortably propped next to each other.

Intuition tells him to get the fuck out of here. He’s about to turn when you spy his tall, strapping form in the corner of the yard.

“Namjoon?” You sit up, squinting in the darkness. “Is that you?”

Namjoon swallows hard. “Uh, yeah.” It’s too late to run now. Quickly he stuffs his hand-drawn map into his satchel.

“Hey hyung! Come join us! I was just showing Y/N the Ophiuchus constellation. We’re going to the observatory in the next town over on the night of the prom. Figured I keep Y/N out of the way in case she pulls a prank on your special night…” Jungkook is too excited to notice the disappointment which flits across Namjoon’s face for a split second.

“Namjoon, apparently they have these ancient maps of the constellations too. JK and I will go check it out and I’ll tell you if it’s worth it. But yeah, you better promise us to give us all the details the next day. And we mean aaaaallllll the details. Because—” you give Jungkook a look and he gets it right away.

“—Bibimbaps Forever!” you chorus with him, before bursting into a fit of laughter together.

Namjoon doesn’t miss the adoring look Jungkook gives to you. It’s something deeper, something new.

“Bibimbaps Forever,” he replies, heartbroken, because he now sees the same in your eyes when you look at Jungkook.

It’s time for him to move on.

***********************

The memorial service is taking a long time.

He knew too many people, was too good to all of them. Everyone wanted to pay their final respects.

You’re standing, nodding stoically to all these other people who still have their husbands, their sons, their fathers and brothers. It’s getting tiring.

After a while, Namjoon notices you're looking wan. “Do you want to go home?”

You don’t need to say a thing. Years as the Bibimbaps Forever has attuned him to you. It’s a frequency the three of you can tune into with your own code words and hand signals, a shorthand of sorts to convey feelings with just a glance.

After a short word to Jungkook’s family and his own mom, he guides you into his car.

The ride is completely silent. Words are exhausting when tears are all you breathe.

The road back to the house your parents have left you while they retire in warmer climes is easy and familiar. Namjoon sees you safely to your door, and is just about to turn to leave when you stop him. The looming darkness of dusk is suddenly terrifying to you. “Joon?”

He gets it. He would rather be alone in his own grief, but he knows you well enough. He reads books, tons of them, but he has read you the most. “Sure. I’ll stay.”

And so he settles in on the couch while you head to your room; him surrounded by photos of you and Jungkook, you surrounded by the big, empty bed.

***********************

The usual suspects are there: rice, spinach, carrots, a bit of beef, and the obligatory egg. But there’s a palpable sadness as the Bibimbaps Forever congregate one last time in your home. It's the night before Namjoon leaves for the military. As the three of you laugh a little too forcefully, you know that the Namjoon who returns will be a very different one.

No one was surprised by his decision to enlist.

The Namjoon you know has always been attracted to living for something bigger than himself and there’s nothing bigger than serving his country. Duty and Honor beat in his very cells.

The truth, which you did not know, is a little more complicated. Yes, there’s Duty and Honor, but there’s also the one thing he kept from the Bibimbaps Forever: he needs to get out of town so that Jungkook and you can build a relationship without feeling guilty for not including him.

It’s been difficult for Namjoon to witness the way the younger man looks at you like you’re his whole world, harder still to see the way you lean into him like he’s all of your strength. Every damned time, he has forced himself to smile, forced himself to remember he’s truly happy for you both.

Jungkook had approached him after your visit to the observatory together, asked him if it was weird if you two started dating. “Course not. You guys are made for each other.” The words rolled off his tongue easily because Namjoon would rather die than come between his two best friends who love each other.

When yet another loving glance is exchanged between you and Jungkook over the dining table, Namjoon ruminates a little selfishly how this is one thing he will not miss when he’s finally in the military.

“We have something for you,” you say, after Jungkook gives you a little nod.

Namjoon’s chopsticks still dramatically in mid-air. “You guys getting sappy on me?”

Taking out a folder, you bring out a map and unfurl it on the dining table. Namjoon instantly recognizes your handwriting and Jungkook’s sure pencil strokes.

The hand-drawn map is filled with the most detailed illustrations of your town, filled with little stick figure comics on street corners of important moments shared among the Bibimbaps Forever.

There’s the tree where you first dangled upside down from a branch.

Near the bottom left, the burial place of Nana the Mosquito which tormented every human being in your living room for 17 days. (Jungkook finally put everyone out of their misery by shooting Nana with a rubberband in one flick.)

In the north corner by the junior high school was where you fretted about your French grammar test and Namjoon told you a joke to distract you (Past, Present, and Future walked into a room. It was tense.) while Jungkook gave you a piece of his prized purple bubblegum to calm you (he never shares his purple gum otherwise).

So many memories made together.

Namjoon swallows hard. This map is so much better, so much richer than the one he secretly drew for you.

“A map to show you the way home to us,” you say shyly, pointing to your home on the map illustrated with a Bibimbaps Forever flag flying proudly on the roof.

“Yeah, in case you forget,” teases Jungkook.

How could he ever forget?

“Promise me you’ll come back to visit,” you say more solemnly now, suddenly afraid that you might never see Namjoon again.

He searches your eyes and sees how serious you are. He wishes he could squeeze your hand to reassure you. But you’re Jungkook’s girl now. It’s not proper. Instead, he adopts the easy, breezy tone which has served him well to hide his feelings from you and Jungkook. “‘Course I’ll come back to visit. Come on, let’s finish this bibimbap. Who wants the egg yolk?”

***********************

Years of sleeping on concrete and on dirt, in desert and jungle has conditioned Namjoon to sleep anywhere. Your couch is a luxury compared to the places he’s been.

He should be exhausted from the day’s events too, but the soft sounds of your slippered feet padding enroute to the kitchen stirs him immediately. Instinctively, he reaches for his M4-A1 rifle, grabbing air, until he finally remembers he’s on leave now. Safe in your home, he drops his guard.

You probably just need some water, he thinks. He tries to settle back to sleep but he finds himself listening to you move quietly in the kitchen—first the clink of the mug, then the low hiss of steam from the kettle, and the lilt of the teaspoon when you stir your two sugars in. But there’s another sound. Soft sniffles.

You’re hurting.

His words to his mother brings him to his feet, and his promise to Jungkook brings him down the dark hallway and into the kitchen. It’s love, though, which brings him to you. In the dim light, the outline of your shoulders shaking with grief are unmistakable.

Wordlessly, Namjoon takes the chair beside you, careful not to take the one across from you that’s always been Jungkook’s, an empty mug marking his spot. Next to you, he observes the quiet plops of your tears into the cup of blissfully ignorant tea.

You try to explain that you had trouble sleeping so you came to make tea; how sheer habit led you to grab two mugs, one for you and one for Jungkook. You try and try to explain how seeing the empty bed, the empty mug, the empty chair was suddenly too much.

But with Namjoon, there’s always been no need to dwell on explanations. Your face crumples as you turn to reach for him, needing someone to hold you. “He’s never going to come back, is he? He’s never going to come back… never... never...”

In the safety of his arms, you finally allow the grief to pour out after holding it in for so long.

Namjoon steels himself not to feel. Not your soft, warm body clinging to his; nor the jasmine scent of your shampoo filling his senses. Not the way his heart breaks at the loss of his best friend and the loss of your lover.

The one thing he allows himself to feel is your engagement ring from Jungkook, digging quietly into his skin.

No crying now. He has to be strong for you.

He promised.

***********************

You were right.

Namjoon is hardly recognizable when he returns for his first home leave from the military. His face is leaner, but everywhere else is more muscled. It’s his demeanour, though, which has changed the most. There’s a calm presence about him and a dignity in his bearing. His speech is quieter, more deliberate, more authoritative.

Jungkook is most affected by this. Suddenly his hyung is now a man and he wants the same for himself. Over bowls of bibimbap in your kitchen, he peppers Namjoon with tons of questions.

“So what will you specialize in after Officers School? Sniper school? Hospital Corps? Intel, I bet!”

“Probably comms and surveillance. Dealing with boring stuff like radios and satellites. Maps, even.” Namjoon shoots you a smile when he says this.

You blush, a little shy, flustered by this new, manly Namjoon. You find it easier to busy yourself with getting the food ready. The first Bibimbaps Forever meal after a nine-month hiatus should be memorable.

Around the familiar oak table, the conversation flutters from what Hell Week in the military was like, to the classes you’re taking in college, to Jungkook’s interest in volunteering as a vocal coach in an inner-city children’s choir. All too soon, Namjoon has to leave.

“Gotta go home for a second dinner. Mom’s cooking and she expects me to eat everything.”

“Is this another of her match-making dinners?” you ask.

“Unfortunately, yes,” he says, swinging his giant military-issue duffel bag over his shoulder. “Wish I didn’t have to go, though. Miss you guys.”

“If it works out, she’s a lucky girl!” you call out to him as he heads across the yard.

Namjoon turns around and tips his hat at you, shoots you a dimpled grin, before going his way into the evening dusk.

“I’m the lucky one,” Jungkook murmurs as he pulls you into him. “I got you, baby.”

“I’m the lucky one too,” you whisper as you tilt your head up for a kiss.

Leaning against each other, you both watch Namjoon’s disappearing silhouette. Even the way he walks has changed. There’s purpose and pride.

Jungkook looks wistful.

You’ve not seen him quite like this before. “Now don’t you join the military too. What’s going to happen to me if you go? What if—” you chide, jabbing him lightly in the ribs.

“Shh. No what-ifs. Nothing will happen, babe. We’re the lucky ones.” He’s tickling you now, all seriousness gone, because he’s just so happy you’ve found him and he’s found you in this great, big world.

Tomorrow, he tells himself, tomorrow he will talk to a recruiter for the military.

Not today.

***********************

The throwing up starts the day after the memorial.

Namjoon is sleeping on the couch when the sound of retching wakes him up. Concerned, he hurries to the door of your bedroom and knocks.

“Y/N, are you okay?”

You can barely pause for a breath to answer him as wave after wave of nausea hits you. Namjoon, forced to make judgement calls large and small in his military career, barges in without hesitation when you retch again.

Pale and shaking, you’re kneeling over the toilet, exhausted by the spasms ricocheting through your worn body. There’s nothing much, just some bitter, bitter bile, but it feels like your entire stomach wants to empty its contents.

Kneeling next to your trembling form, he gently gathers your hair and holds it at the nape of your neck, waiting patiently while you try to get the nausea out of your system.

The bitter saliva trails down the corner of your mouth to your chin. You wish he didn’t have to see you like this, but you remind yourself that this is your Bibimbaps Forever Joon. He’d seen you when you threw up in the school bus in sixth grade. He’s the same Joon who gave you his sweater when your period came early to tie around your waist to hide the stain on your light jeans. There’s not much you need to conceal from him.

“All puked out?” he asks after a while.

You try to stand quickly to show him that you’re absolutely fine but the sudden movement after kneeling for so long and the lack of blood sugar in the morning causes you to sway unsteadily on your feet.

“Whoa. I got you. Easy there, lean on me.” Namjoon catches you immediately and carries you to your bed. With one arm under your knees and one arm behind your back to draw you into him, he can’t speak; all effort is focused on reining his eyes from straying to the open v of your thin nightgown

He lays you down on your bed gently. Making sure the pillows are fluffed around you, he brings up the duvet to tuck you in. When he comes back with a glass of water, he waits till you’ve taken a few sips before he asks carefully, “Should I call the doctor? Or do you know if…”

He’s quiet, doesn’t want to ask more than what you’re comfortable with.

“I think I might be,” you whisper, afraid to meet his eyes. “It was before he shipped out with the team. Before—” The tears are overwhelming you now. How will this baby grow up without a father?

“Shhh…” Namjoon sits by the side of the bed. Facing you, he holds you as fear and grief overwhelm you again. “It’s going to be alright. I got you. I got you,” he murmurs. “Whatever you decide. I’ll go with you.” Over and over, like a mantra, he repeats it to you, willing his words to fortify your bones, to strengthen the little life within you. “I’m right here.”

You can’t answer him. All you can do is to hold him tighter as your tears wet his shoulder, then his sleeves.

Namjoon thinks of how his field uniform was stained with Jungkook’s blood all over him; but now, your tears are soaking through his shirt. He knows he was never worthy of the former, and will never be worthy of the latter.

But still, he holds you—because he is a man of his word.

***********************

Team 613 has always been the most elite unit in the republic’s military. Trained at the highest levels in all manner of close-quarter combat, reconnaissance, hostage rescue, intelligence and cryptology, the men of 613 are always acknowledged with reverence and awe in the hallways of government.

Namjoon knows better. He knows his men are made of flesh and blood; flesh that can tear, and blood that can spill. The only difference between the men of 613 and all other units is perhaps their willingness to stay loyal to flag and country at all cost. He’s thankful he has never lost a man in his unit and intends to keep it that way.

The selection process has come around again. The six geographical commanders are choosing men from a pool of approved candidates who will be awarded the 613 colors to join each of their unit commands. The scene, very much like a round of playground captains picking teams for a game of dodgeball, is rather comical if one is able to forget that joining the wrong unit at the wrong time could mean death on a failed mission.

For Namjoon, there’s only one name he’s most interested in and his eyes and ears are on alert. As the most junior commander (Special Ops, Indo-Pacific) in the history of 613, he knows he has to defer to the more senior ranked officers. But he’s hoping that he can poach sniper specialist Petty Officer First Class Jeon Jungkook to come under his wing.

Your desperate words to him in the latest Bibimbaps Forever dinner still ring fresh in his mind. When Jungkook had gone to the basement freezer for more ice, you told Namjoon the very words which would upset your boyfriend if he heard them.

JK has his mind set on 613. Joon, promise me you’ll try to get him into your unit. There’s no one else I trust with him. Promise me?

I promise.

After a slew of protracted negotiations, Commander Kim Namjoon gives up his top two picks for advanced demolitions, trades one specialist in advanced ammunitions and the top guy from close-quarters combat—all for just one member of the Bibimbaps Forever.

With a smile of satisfaction, his heart swells with quiet pride that he has kept his promise to you.

***********************

You’re grateful for Namjoon’s presence at the doctor’s office. Everywhere in the waiting room, couples are seated quietly, some cuddled together, four hands clasped over a belly like those photos in a baby magazine.

You and Namjoon, however, are not a couple.

And so you sit awkwardly next to each other. You’re scrolling mindlessly through your phone while Namjoon brings a stack of books from the display shelf to browse in his seat. Curiously, you spy the titles on his lap. The Art of Water-birthing. Hypnobirthing at its Best. The Orgasmic Birth: No Pain, All Pleasure. What the hell?

“Joon. Why are you reading these? Don’t you have your own magazines or books? Like on rifles or tanks or parachute jumping? You shouldn’t be reading these!”

Namjoon is glad to see you mad. You look cute and it brings a little color to your cheeks. The last two weeks have been spent at home as you retched morning, noon, and night. Even plain water became your enemy. For a few days, you could only subsist on sparkling water (with a squeeze of fresh lemon juice) and some plain crackers.

Just for the hell of it, he decides to push this further.

“Why not? It’s good to be prepared. Listen to this… ‘The orgasmic birth is a way of looking at birth as an extended part of the euphoria of lovemaking, the premise being, during active labor, increased blood flow to the clitoris can heighten feelings of intense pleasure and mimic an orgasm during sexual intercourse. Anecdotal evidence—’”

“Kim. Nam. Joon. Shut the fuck up. Don’t… don’t say those words. There are babies in this place. Innocent little ears!” you hiss angrily.

“Which words? The O-word like orgaaasm, or the L word like lovemaaaking? Or do you mean the c-word? Cli-to-ris?” He is teasing now. He can’t help it. “Don’t you think babies know how they’re fucked into the world?”

“Shh! Do. Not. Use. The. F-word. It can hear you!” you insist, pointing to your belly. You know you are surely above whispering level now, but goddamn it, you’re keeping this baby’s ears untainted as much as possible before it comes into the world. And if that means using an outside voice inside, so be it.

“What f-word? Oh you mean fuuck? You said it before I did!” Namjoon feigns indignation.

“Why you little piece of shit! You—”

“You said shit. You said shit!” The motherfucker is straight up laughing at your mental anguish, and you—oh no—you can’t help but start to giggle too. Soon enough, the quiet giggles turn into something of truly epic proportions until both of you are shaking uncontrollably with laughter, gasping for large gulps of air between bouts of more laughing.

“Mr. and Mrs. Y/L/N?” a nurse calls out. “The doctor will see you now.”

“Oh, uh, we’re not…” he begins.

“He’s not my…” you say at the same time.

But the busy nurse is already ushering you into the doctor’s office, leaving you with no choice except to keep quiet.

In this little room, only Namjoon, the doctor, and you are present. You do not know this, but you’re not the only one who stops breathing with anticipation when the cold jelly is plopped on your belly for the ultrasound probe.

This huge, ten-thousand dollar medical machine which can see your womb, but not the hole in your heart, hear the flutter of an infant heartbeat but not your crying at midnight—this modern miracle of ultrasound broadcasts the sure and steady heartbeat of Jeon Jungkook’s child, heard in the world for the very first time.

It sounds strangely to your ears like… like an echo of: Bibimbaps Forever. Bibimbaps Forever. Bibimbaps Forever.

Instinctively, you reach out for Namjoon’s hand to hold, eager to share your quiet wonder of this little miracle of life.

His grip is strong and sure, and immensely comforting.

***********************

Home leave with Jungkook is a luxury. He takes time to savour your body, to worship each curve, each dip, each slant and slope of your skin.

“You’re so beautiful for me,” he breathes each word into your skin as he tracks his tongue down your sternum, stopping to lave at one nipple and then the other. As your nipple peaks and tightens in his mouth, you moan desperately for more, clutching at his hair to anchor your hands on something, anything really, as he eases a finger inside you. “Goddamn, you’re so wet.”

“Jungkook,” you gasp, “Jungkook, that feels so good baby.” He’s doing the usual thing now, where he curls his finger inside and rubs gently. He loves how only he can make you sound like that. Loves how your walls flutter tight against his one finger, then two, coating them with the slick of your arousal.

“Come on. Come for me, Mrs. Jeon.”

You blush. It seems like a dream, but the ring on your finger he put on just a few hours ago doesn’t lie. He had proposed at the college observatory which you’ve visited together many times after that first night during Namjoon’s prom night. Stars that look so small, so faint, so far away are brought close, brought near, brought real to you through the lens of the telescope.

And at the very same spot, Jungkook brought a far-away girlish childhood dream of yours to be his and only his—brought it to you tonight, made it big, made it real with his ring and his promise. Amidst all the beautiful stars in the night sky, he called you his lucky star, the only one in his sky.

“Oh god. So close.” You’re gasping for breath now as he keeps up his rhythm, tongue and fingers working expertly together, with unerring accuracy. “Come inside me, Kook. Don’t wanna come on your fingers.”

“What Mrs. Jeon wants, Mrs. Jeon gets. Lemme grab a condom real quick.” Jungkook loves to see you come with him, your tight walls squeezing around his cock, your moans filling his ears begging more, pleading please, panting that’s it baby over and over while your hands press urgently on his ass to go deeper, fuck you harder. He’ll never tire of that.

“Kook, no. Come inside me. Please baby. Please.” There’s something different in your voice tonight, a desperation in your voice that’s not been there before.

He forces himself to still.

“What’s going on? Why’s my girl crying?” He’s concerned as he sees the glint of a watery reflection in your eyes. You look away from him at first, embarrassed that you’re getting so emotional.

“N-nothing.” It’s everything. “Just wanna be yours.” You have a fiancé now. He’s calling you his and you want to be, utterly, completely his.

“I wanna be yours too,” he says, pressing his lips on the little teardrops streaking your cheeks. “You sure?” Jungkook’s cock aches to fuck into you. Every time he’s deployed for a mission, he could be gone for weeks, and when he comes home, he just wants you, in every way, in every place. Stopping halfway now for conversation when he’s positively leaking with arousal is not part of the plan, but this is new from you. “What if—”

“Shh. No what-ifs. Just come. Inside me,” you implore him as you reach for his throbbing flesh, and then guide him into you.

The moment your fingers wrap around his cock is the moment Jungkook can no longer say no to you. The tight way you squeeze him, the way he feels so vulnerable, yet so strong with you, in your hands like that, god, he almost comes too soon.

With your soft limbs around his muscled thighs; skin on skin; flesh into flesh, breath for breath, you move with him as he thrusts deep into you, the curve of his cock so familiar to you by now, yet strangely new and exciting without any barrier between you both. A soft sigh escapes from you. “Want you so bad, Kook.”

“Me too, baby. Want you too.” He’s groaning from the sheer hardness of his cock surrounded by your hot, wet depths. It feels too good to know that he can cum right inside you like this. Might even fuck a baby into you. “Hold my hand. Hold tight.”

Blindly, you grope for his fingers, curling yours into his. Jungkook sees the diamond he picked out for you with Namjoon’s help, shining brightly and proudly on your ring finger. He grasps that hand a little more tightly, so happy that he’s got you. “Gonna cum,” he pants, “gonna cum so fucking hard.”

You twine your feet a little tighter behind his back to urge him deeper. “Kook.”

It’s all he needs for his hips to stutter wildly into you and you know he’s cumming right this moment. Clinging desperately to him, you press your body up into his, wishing you could melt into each other.

He comes with a guttural cry, releasing hot, thick cum into you, chest heaving from the intensity of his orgasm. He groans with pleasure, but never forgets you. Still buried inside you, his fingers rub your clit, just the way you like it. He can’t help staring at you as your mouth gapes at the building tension coiling in your body.

“Don’t stop,” you moan. “C-close.” With patience and perseverance, Jungkook works his fingers until you cum around him, shaking and trembling, your own arousal slicking his cock, dripping out from where you’re joined together and down his balls.

Shit. He’s getting hard again.

“Can you take me again, baby?”

“Yeah,” you nod, hands clasping the side of his face now, mapping out his eyebrows, those cheekbones, the soft curve of his ears, tracing his lips that kiss you everywhere so well. You hope your fingers remember everything because he’s going to ship out again tomorrow. “Want you again, too.”

Jeon Jungkook’s heart sings at your words.

I’m the luckiest man in the world, he thinks.

***********************

The nondescript package arrives without warning or fanfare. Puzzled, you open it to find a note from Mrs. Jeon. She tells you she’s not well and is moving to where she can receive round-the-clock care for her ailing health. Attached is a letter with your name among Jungkook’s personal effects sent to her by the military.

Scrawled in a weak, spidery script, the note causes fresh tears to spring to your eyes. This should have been given to you. I’m sorry for holding on to it so selfishly. I would have loved you as my daughter-in-law. Take care.

Unwrapping the package, you suck in a deep breath when you see she has sent you the flag of the republic still in its triangular fold.

You clutch it to your chest, breathing in the fabric, wondering if it smells like Jungkook. It doesn’t. It smells like new clothes from the store that haven’t been washed. It smells like sacrifice.

You hug it once more, bringing it close to your belly. Can the baby feel this? The beat of daddy’s heart for his country?

With trembling hands, you take out the letter from Jungkook.

Baby,

If you get this, then it means I didn’t make it back. I’m so sorry.

I’ve always wanted you ever since we were kids. Wanted to marry you, share life with you, build a family, make babies with you. I guess some lucky bastard will do that now instead of me.

Move on, my love. You were the lucky star in my sky. Let me be yours now.

Watching over you with love,

Jungkook

P.S. Take care of hyung for me. He’s probably taking this worse than you are. You’ve always been the strongest among the three of us.

Bibimbaps Forever.

Little teardrops fall from your face, smudging the ink on the letter. You let yourself cry, and then you wipe the tears away. Jungkook’s right, Namjoon is taking this worse than you. Every time you mention Jungkook’s name to him, there’s only anguish and guilt in his eyes.

It’s time to make sure he’s okay.

***********************

The briefing Commander Kim Namjoon received from his higher-ups was like none he had ever attended. The more he listened, the more he was uncomfortable with the whole thing. Too many factors were out of his control and he has never liked to relinquish control to weather or to warlords—both, in this case. The night parachute jump is bad enough, but the terrain will be mountainous and his background in special ops comms tells him that those Iridium satellite phones might not work.

Team 613 (Special Ops, Indo-Pacific) is supposed to get in, get the bad guy, get out. The problem is that the satellite photos are grainy, the maps might be a little unreliable, and there isn’t confirmed intel on exactly how many militiamen are in the area, no info about whether they’re armed with the dangerous shit like rocket-propelled grenades.

Sounds fucked up as hell.

“With all due respect sirs, this mission seems to have highly unpredictable variables. We need more time to see through the details before I put my men’s lives on the line.” Namjoon keeps his tone low and respectful even though all he wants to do is yell at his superiors for coming up with this shit.

“Commander Kim. This is the best we can get. We have intel that if we don’t strike now, this man will strike our country in a way that we have not seen before.” The two older men then launch into the invincibility of 613, how this unit has always been the most dependable, the most decorated, the most desired in the republic’s hour of need throughout history. In short, there is no one else who can try this.

“I see,” says Namjoon. “So this is an order?” His eyes implore his superiors to consider his men. Their wives, their kids. Their mothers and fathers.

Rear Admiral Choi and General Lee look him in the eye. “It always is. And always will be, soldier.”

Namjoon nods like he’s expected to do, salutes like he’s been trained to do, says the Yes sir like he’s been told to do.

The military is a demanding spouse. It commands all of him, consumes him. But year after year, he signs on the dotted line because he can serve no other mistress, nor any other master.

Kim Namjoon is hard pressed to serve even himself.

He has promises to keep though, and he hopes to god to keep Jungkook out of it. That boy just bought an engagement ring worth four months of salary for fuck’s sake.

He calls his next-in-line and gives him his picks for the mission. “Get me Lee and Eun on Combat, Park on Entry. Demolitions, I want Kang and Yoon on it. Prepare the intel file for me. I’ll lead this personally.”

“And sniper, sir?”

“Get me the Cho boy.”

“Not Jeon, sir?”

“No. Keep Jeon as back-up only.”

His second-in-command looks confused. But he takes the order just like he's expected to.

Truth be told, Kim Namjoon doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing.

All he knows he has too many fucking promises to keep.

***********************

He’s downstairs, putting groceries away in your pantry, insisting a pregnant lady should not be carrying anything heavy. You watch him as he fills your cupboards with prenatal vitamins, sparkling water, and three different kinds of crackers: one fortified with calcium, another made with wholegrain (which you’re sure you’re gonna hate), and the last made of some organic voodoo shit.

He takes such good care of you.

“Why are you here, Joon?” you ask, popping a blueberry (organic, which he washed) into your mouth.

“Well someone has to put away the groceries, and I’m not going to let it be you,” he smiles at you while he says this.

“I mean, why are you here, hanging out with a pregnant woman, a soon-to-be single-mom?” you ask quietly.

“I have no one else to hang out with.”

“That’s bull. You’re telling me out of all the women your mom has tried to match you with, there’s not even a single one?”

“Nope.”

“I’m surprised your mother still has to arrange these dinners for you. You’re smart, the youngest commander in the republic’s history. You’re always kind, always taking care of people—” you pause, “—always taking care of me.”

Your eyes meet when you say this, and suddenly your heart is thudding with an ache at how truly good and kind and honorable he is.

Quickly, you change your tone. “And you’re good-looking! They should be lining up by the dozens! Why, one day, I might even—”

“Y/N.” He’s solemn and serious when he calls you like that. “Not everyone can understand the life of a military man.”

It’s true. The long deployments. The worrying. The wondering. You’ve tasted the bitter pill, yet you know this military life is who Jungkook is. Was—who Jungkook was—you remind yourself. It’s the same with Namjoon. You can’t imagine any other career for him.

“One day, Joon,” you say softly, “you’ll find someone, someone who can understand this is just part of who you are. She’s out there—”

She’s right here.

“—and she’ll know you’re the one for her—”

You’re the one for me.

“—and—”

Nothing is going to change that.

“—nothing is going to change that,” you finish with a wistful smile. “Joon--”

He turns to you, his gaze flitting too quickly from yours, unable to meet your eyes fully, like he’s embarrassed.

“--I don’t know what JK told you out there, but I’m okay. I have savings. I have this house my parents left me. I have my freelance job. I can take care of myself and the baby. And I will. You don’t have to do all this,” you say, pointing to the neat rows of groceries.

“I know. But maybe it’s just something I want to do for you—” Namjoon cannot believe he said this. So he quickly adds, “—as Bibimbaps Forever,” he says, turning away to start checking that all the windows and doors downstairs are locked.

“Joon. It wasn’t your fault. You know that right?” you say, following him around.

He stills for a moment. And you see him flinch in the slightest.

Before you could stop yourself, you reach up to cup his cheeks so he can meet your gaze. You want him to hear it again. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Namjoon squeezes his eyes shut at your words and holds back at the choking sensation which threatens to overwhelm him. There’s so much he wants to tell you. So much that he just can’t. Not yet.

“I’m late for another dinner mom set up. I better go.”

You want to hug him, tell him it’s okay to cry, but you know Namjoon. When he’s not ready, he’s not ready. As you watch his tall, sinewy frame disappear from the doorway, you hope the girl he meets tonight at dinner will know how lucky she is.

***********************

“One hour late. One hour late! How have I raised you to be One. Hour. Late.” Namjoon’s mother is so embarrassed. She wishes she could twist Namjoon’s ears mid-reprimand like she did when he was younger. But he’s too tall now, and she’s too… Well, she’s too tired of all his antics at these dinners. The lateness. The perfunctory politeness. The boy doesn’t even give those girls a smile. What on god’s earth are those dimples for when he doesn’t put them to good use at these dinners?

“Just tell me where you were, that you’re one hour late for dinner with our special guest? Studying your handbooks? Cycling? Going to museums?” She draws out that last word like a dirty word. It’s not that she hates these beloved hobbies of his. It’s just that if he pulls another one like this, no other parent would allow their daughters to her home for these dinners anymore. And then how? Just how is she going to hold a grandchild in her arms? The boy is practically married to the military.

Namjoon sighs. “It’s Y/N. I was making sure she’s okay.”

Mrs. Kim quiets immediately. She had told Namjoon to take care of you.

“How is she?” she murmurs.

“She’s pregnant, Ma.”

It shocks her into silence. Poor girl, she thinks. “I’m glad you’re taking care of her,” she says softly. Truly, her son has always had a soft spot for you. He’s doing the right thing by the Jeon boy. Tomorrow, she’ll make sure to send a soup to you for the morning sickness.

Shaking herself back to reality, she urges him into the dining area. “Go on, then. This Younha has been politely waiting at the table for an hour. Beautiful manners, I tell you. And her patience… like a saint’s!” And with a slap on his back, she sends him stumbling into the formal dining room, all the while praying to the gods of her ancestors that she will hold a grandchild next year, this time.

“Um, hi. I’m so sorry. I was held up.” Namjoon barely glances at her, but when he meets her eyes, he realizes she’s breathtakingly beautiful.

“That’s okay. I was prepared. You kind of have a reputation,” she says, as a knowing smirk flirts across her face.

“What reputation?” he asks, a little worried. Namjoon has always tried to maintain a spotless name for himself. After all, he has a military career.

“Oh nothing,” she says airily. “It’s just that there were rumors.”

“Rumors?” He’s truly worried now. What the hell?

“Rumors that you’re spoken for. I can see it too, you know. The moment you walked in,” she continues mischievously. “Your eyes. Complete disinterest. There’s someone else, isn’t there?”

Guilty as charged. Called out, Namjoon looks sheepish. “Yes. There is,” he admits quietly.

Younha gets her bag and starts to leave. “Knew it. No hard feelings. But at least tell your mom, okay? Or you’re just wasting our time.” Wait till the girls hear this.

“I’m so sorr—”

She waves off his apology. Truth to be told, she came to see if the Kim Namjoon was really as tall, as dark, as handsome, and as untouchable as all the previous girls have said. They’re right, after all.

“No worries. For what it’s worth, she’s a lucky one.”

Before Kim Namjoon could see her out the door properly, Younha-with-the-patience-of-a-saint has slipped out the door and into her car.

Namjoon is left standing alone in the empty dining room wondering who the hell is the lucky one.

It’s certainly not him, and not you.

And it’s definitely not Jungkook.

***********************

The Cho boy, who’s not a bad shot himself (50 confirmed kills over two tours of duty), slipped on the wet bathroom tile at home and fractured his tailbone.

Jeon Jungkook was called up immediately by Namjoon’s second-in command, and makes it for the briefing just in time. Namjoon, surprised to see him enter the briefing room, stops for a split second before starting his briefing as planned.

After he presents the plan for the mission, the men look uneasy. “Chief... it looks like everything could turn to shit real quick,” says Park.

“That’s why we gotta keep tabs on each other. Remember, communicate! I’ll be the spotter for the sniper. If I go down, Lee, you take my place. Let’s make sure we bring Jeon where he needs to be so he can take the shot. Quick Reaction Force will lift us out of the village once he makes the kill. But this is the hour guys. Write your letters.”

Of course, as 613, they always have their letters ready. But the boys know it’s rare that their chief says this.

“Sir?”

“Yes, Jeon?”

“What if I go down? Cho’s out. Who’s taking my place?”

The room is suddenly silent. This is jinx talk. Legendary snipers don’t speak of that.

Namjoon looks at childhood friend. His brother. The lover of the love of his life. He then scans the rest of the room. He knows each of their marksmanship scores by heart. None of theirs comes even close to Jungkook’s.

“You can’t go down Jeon. I’ll make sure of it. None of us are cleared to take that shot. Rules of Engagement say we cannot take unnecessary risks with civilian life.”

Jungkook nods. “But what if—”

“If you go down, we’re back to close combat. We know where he's hiding. So secure each floor, room by room, till we get the bad guy.” Namjoon hopes he’s saying this with neutral professionalism. God knows, this scenario will happen only over his dead body. The intel on the exact building where the target is hiding isn’t the most reliable.

“Sir?”

“Yes, Park?”

“You didn’t give us the name of this Operation. What are they calling this shitshow?”

Namjoon scans every face in the room. These are his brothers. They will die for him and he for them. “This,” he takes a deep breath, “is Operation Icarus.”

“Goddamn!” Master Chief Petty Officer Park slams his fist in his thigh in frustration.

“Park!” Namjoon barks. “Is there some fresh insight you want to share about the Operation?”

“No, sir.”

“Good. If we stay low, we should be fine. Get your gear.” With a weary sigh, he ends the meeting. “We leave at 2200 hours.”

Jungkook is the last to leave the meeting room. He goes up to Namjoon and slaps him on the back.

“She loved it! She fucking loved Ring Number Two. Just like you said she would!”

Namjoon smiles weakly. “How did the whole proposal go?”

“She loved everything. I’m just happy we found each other, you know?” Jungkook looks starry-eyed now and Namjoon cannot help but be truly happy for his brother and his friend.

“Well. Make sure you get back, JK.”

“You’ve got my back. Nothing’s gonna happen. Bibimbaps Forever.”

“Shit, how many times have I told you not to mention that here. The guys will lose all respect for me if they hear about the name.”

“Bi-bim-baaaaaaaps foreeeeeeveeeer!” Jungkook sings in his falsetto as he sails out the room, confident that nothing bad is going to happen because he has you now as his soon-to-be-wife. And he has Joon on this mission. Maybe even a baby waiting for him when he gets back!

How lucky can a guy get?

***********************

You’re feeling better week by week under Namjoon’s watchful eye. He makes sure you’re eating and sleeping well, careful to bring over bland, but nutritious food from his mom to you. Jungkook’s mom has also heard about your pregnancy, but she’s too weak in her current health to come to see you.

As the nausea subsides slowly, you begin taking on commissions again, sourcing hard-to-find antique maps for wealthy clients. You even feel well enough one weekend to ask Namjoon to go to an estate sale with you to hunt for old maps in the lot of vintage junk.

The trip to the Yang estate is a full eight-hour drive. But it promises to yield a treasure trove of goodies. The elderly Mr. Yang was an eclectic antiques collector and you can feel it in your bones that he has a rare copy of the Kangnido, a world map created in Korea, possibly as old as six hundred years.

Namjoon decides on renting an overnight cottage near the sprawling Yang estate in the rural countryside. He doesn’t want to tire you out in your pregnancy, and such a long drive back-to-back would be decidedly uncomfortable for you.

Halfway along the drive, Namjoon stops the car for a stretch break at a little countryside park.

You walk around the park, marveling at the glowing colors of early spring. He points out names of trees to you, little bugs and critters, and you laugh. It feels good to be outside and see this part of Namjoon you miss so much from your childhood days. He’ll make such a good father. You’re just about to head back to the car when suddenly your hands fly to your belly.

“Hang on. Oh my god—” Furrowing your eyebrows in concentration, you try to concentrate on that feeling again, not sure if you imagined it the first time. It was like a little flutter of butterfly wings in your belly.

“Are you okay?” Namjoon is tense, ready to take you to the hospital right now.

Shushing him, you grab his hand and place it on your belly. “Feel that?”

Namjoon shakes his head. You move his hand around your little bump, wanting him to share your delight in the baby moving. “Wait, here. Did you feel it?”

He cannot lie to you. “No?”

“It’s there! Right there!” You press his hand harder into your belly.

Namjoon closes his eyes, partly to focus, but also, partly because he wants to remember this: his hand low on your belly, your hand clasped on top of his, the sun warm on his back.

And he feels it. It feels like the lightest of touches from inside you, a brush of fingertip to fingertip between the veil of your skin connecting the two worlds of the living. “Wow.”

“Pretty cool, huh?”

He can't answer, can’t even look you in the eye. JK should be here. Not me.

You know what he’s thinking. “I miss him too. But you’re here, Joon. You’re alive. It wasn’t your fault. You know what a bullet in the femoral artery means.” You give his hand a long squeeze before letting it go.

Namjoon can only look down as your hand leaves his.

Walking in silence, you let him grapple with his thoughts. Grief counselling has helped you to realize that Namjoon has yet to mourn properly.

Instead, Kim Namjoon pushes down the words that long to come out. Instead, he forces himself to say words that don't need too much feelings. “Come on, let’s go to the rental place. We don’t have much time left.”

Turning into the driveway of the cottage, Namjoon is surprised to see how small it really is. The key he found in the lockbox by the flowerbeds opens the door into a clean but tiny living space. Cottage would be an exaggeration. The kitchenette has a singular heating pod and a small sink. The living room which was supposed to have a couch holds instead an armchair. Off to the side is the queen bed which was advertised. And the bathroom, the bathroom is just laughable. You’d have to practically sit over the toilet to shower.

“Maybe we should go to the nearest town and look for a hotel. This does not look comfortable.”

“And waste another hour driving there? I’m tired, Joon. Let’s just make do. Tomorrow, I want to be the first buyer at the Yang’s.” You send him your most pitiful look hoping to win him over. “Plus, your girl’s starving.”

Your girl? You meant it as an innocent remark. But when the words flew out of you, you pause. How can you be Namjoon’s girl when you’ve always been Jungkook’s? You shake the thought away. It’s just because Namjoon has been around an awful lot, you tell yourself. He’s always making sure you’re okay, going with you to doctors’ appointments, hauling ass to flea markets to help you carry stuff, traipsing from estate sale to estate sale with you. Surely, it’s nothing more.

“I’ll get the food then. Mom made some soup for you.” He makes no indication that he thought your words were out of the ordinary. Meticulously, Namjoon unpacks the food and lays it on the table, careful not to spill a single drop of the seaweed soup from the thermos that’s supposed to be extra nutritious.

Since you’re hungry, he urges you to eat and not wait for him while he takes his turn to shower first in the teeny, tiny bathroom. He hopes to god he doesn’t break anything in there. A quick shower later, he sits with you to eat. Here, in the cozy kitchen, there’s a peaceful glow about you that he’s wordlessly attracted to. “Still starving?” he teases.

“Nope,” you sigh contentedly. “Your mom. Her food. Amazing.”

Namjoon sees you’re getting sleepy. “I’ll clean up. Just go to bed.”

In the shower, the woodsy soothing smell of Namjoon’s shampoo lingers in the steamy air. It smells familiar and safe. But today, smelling it makes your skin tingle involuntarily. Must be the damn pregnancy hormones acting up.

Dressing quickly in a large sweatshirt and shorts, you have just slipped under the covers when you remember there’s only an armchair in the living room.

“Uh, Joon? You’re not thinking of sleeping on the armchair tonight, are you?”

“Well, yeah, it’s either that, or sleep in the car. Don’t you worry. I’ve slept in worse places before. Go to sleep.”

“Joon,” you say as matter-of-factly as possible, “just share the bed with me. You’re driving tomorrow, you need the rest.”

“You need your own space. I—I don’t want to hurt the baby accidentally if I bump into your belly.”

“You won’t. My stomach feels like a basketball, it’s really hardy and tough. Don’t you worry.”

He can’t help but smile at your little chide. “I’ll think about it, okay?”

“Okay. Promise you’ll really think about it?”

“I promise.”

And knowing Namjoon will keep his promise to think about it, you snuggle deeper into the covers and drift off to sleep, wondering when you’ll feel the baby fluttering inside you again.

Meanwhile, Namjoon is washing the food containers as softly as he can in order not to disturb you. And true to his promise, he thinks about it. He thinks. And thinks. And thinks.

It’s a bad idea. He doesn’t know what the hell his subconscious will do if he falls asleep next to you. The past few weeks find him always so hard when he gets home and crawls into his own bed after a day spent with you. It takes all his willpower not to touch himself to relieve the ache you put him in each night.

Plus, he’s a light sleeper. Any little sound you make is going to make him hyper alert. And then he won’t be able to sleep. And when he can’t sleep, he’d be tempted to reach out to hold you. He would touch you, and urge you to touch him, would kiss you, and want you to kiss him back. He would caress you everywhere in every way and beg you to do the same to him.

It’s a bad idea.

And so, Kim Namjoon folds his six-foot frame into the armchair and falls asleep.

***********************

Thirty to fifty percent of pregnant women suffer from leg cramps in their pregnancy. Tonight, you happen to be one of them. It has never happened before, and the pain that shoots through your toes, up your shin and around your calf has you gasping in pain. Moaning, you clutch at the leg, the cramping so intense that you’re crying.

“Namjoon,” you moan weakly. “Help.”

He’s awake in an instant, body bolting off the armchair to your side. “What’s wrong? Tell me where it hurts.” He’s scared. You have never sounded so wrecked with pain before. Miles away from the nearest hospital, he’s frightened that something serious is happening to you or the baby.

“Calf muscle,” you gasp. “Cramp. Hurts.”

Immediately, he pulls back the covers to see your left leg, rigid with pain. Lifting your leg, he rubs gentle circles on the tightness.

The pain is atrocious, clawing into your nerves, and your back arches off the bed. Biting your lip from crying out, you try to bear it while painful tears roll down your cheeks.

“Easy there. Breathe, love. It’s better if you breathe. It’ll help the blood flow.”

Love?

He has never called you love before. It’s always been Y/N.

Despite the sharp pain that has your calf in a vise-like grip, you shiver at the sudden slip of his tongue. It must be because he’s so tired.

Slowly, as he rubs and massages your calves, then your shin, and then your toes, the tightening ebbs and the pain subsides. You’re breathing easier.

“Better?” he asks.

You don’t want him to stop. His fingers feel so good against your skin, the touch strong and tender at the same time. “J-Joon?”

“Yeah?” His voice is all hoarse. Now that he knows there’s no imminent danger to you or the baby, he notices how your thin sleep shorts have pooled by your hip as he lifted your bare leg, exposing the length of your thigh to him.

You don’t know what you want to say, maybe you do. But it’s too soon, too forward. So you reach for a safety word. “Thanks.”

“‘Night, Y/N.”

You must have heard wrongly just now. He didn’t just call you love, did he?

***********************

The mission is going well, surprisingly. Entry into enemy territory went smoothly, and now they’re where they’re supposed to be.

The team operates with quiet clockwork efficiency. Namjoon is scanning the area, making sure there’s no chance of a surprise attack.

“Icarus 01 to Olympus. We’re in position, over.”

The silence from the comms phone is deafening. Namjoon tries it again. Still nothing. Well, there’s still time for the satellite phone to work. It might still be a couple of hours before they see the target.

Through the scope of his sniper rifle, Jungkook spots him. “Contact. Eyes on target. Two o’clock. 1200 yards.”

Namjoon immediately trains binoculars to the spot at two o’clock. The kid always gets it. It’s the target alright. Immediately he reaches for the satellite phone. “This is Icarus 01. We have visual confirm of target. Initiate Quick Reaction Force to escort us out once we make the shot.”

No answer.

Namjoon tries again. “Icarus 01 to Olympus. We have visual on target. 1200 yards. Nice, clear shot. Requesting for clearance. Initiate QRF, we need cover to get out. Over.”

The transmission back is garbled.

“Hyung, I need to take it. He’s going back inside.”

“Stand down JK. We need clearance.”

“Hyung, I’m going to take it. I can make it. I know I can.”

Namjoon hesitates.

“Remember Nana? I can make this.” Jungkook’s voice is sure and quiet. Nana—that damn mosquito which eluded them for 17 days in your living room was killed by Jungkook’s singular rubberband shot.

Namjoon gives Jungkook the go sign. He switches to radio the team. “Team Icarus. Standby. Jungkook has a clear shot. Comms to base are down. No QRF. We’ll have to fight our way out. Head to rendezvous point A for extraction. Fly low, guys. Over.”

“Roger, chief. Point A. Icarus 02 on standby Over.”

“Copy that. Heading to A. Icarus 03 standing by.”

Thank god the team radio is working.

Namjoon takes a deep breath. All hell will break loose once Jungkook makes the shot. But this is a high-value target and this is their mission. This is for their country.

“Take it, JK.”

Petty Officer (first class) Jeon Jungkook breathes slow, adjusts the rifle just right.

One shot, one kill.

He fires.

Namjoon spots the shot. The sonofabitch drops dead. “You got it, JK.” Namjoon allows himself a split second to exhale. There’s no time to crow. He raises the alarm for the team, “We got him. Icarus FLY NOW and FLY LOW. GO GO GO!”

It takes two seconds before the quiet morning in the mountain valley erupts like a hornet’s nest. Namjoon and Jungkook are heading out from their sniper’s hideout as gunfire begins to explode all around. The entire fucking village is suddenly alive.

They need to make it to the treeline on the side of the mountain. The cover of the trees would buy them some time to get the satellite phone working again to call for an exfiltration of the team. QRF needs to get the fuck here.

“JK! Run for the tree line! I got you covered!” Namjoon shouts as he crouches behind the shelter of a village well to fire his machine gun, holding off the enemy so Jungkook can make it to safety first. It is not in Kim Namjoon to leave before his men. “Go! Go!”

Jungkook’s split second hesitation costs him his leg. The bullet flies swift and sure, piercing the eight layers of skin, penetrating the sartorius muscle, pumps through his femoral vein before diving greedily into the femoral artery.

“Hyung.”

Namjoon knows that Jungkook’s hurt in a bad way before he even turns to see him.

Jungkook’s pants are drenched in red. But he’s still standing, still shooting.

Shit.

Spraying a rain of bullets to hold back the enemy, he dashes towards Jungkook who is furiously firing to give Namjoon some cover.

“Just like we practiced, okay?” Namjoon stoops down, puts an arm between Jungkook’s legs and hoists him over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry, keeping his one arm free to shoot. Together, they can make it out alive. They just have to. “JK! Fire at will!”

Namjoon stumbles towards the tree line while Jungkook dangles over his shoulder, firing at the bastards coming from behind. There’s no time to think about the weight around his shoulders. The burden of his promise to you weighs heavier on his heart. Determined to bring Jungkook back to you, he propels his legs agonizing step by agonizing step towards safety.

“Almost there!”

“Shit, Hyung, I’m out of ammo. Hurry.”

Namjoon spies a gap between two rocks and hurtles towards it, tumbling down into a rock cleft with Jungkook on his back.

And then… silence.

The gunfire stops.

They must be looking for us now.

“Icarus 01 to Icarus 02. We are not making it to rendezvous point A. Jeon got hit in the leg. Looks like the Femoral Artery. Proceed as planned. I’m calling MEDEVAC if I can get the fucking SAT phone to work. See you back at the base. Over and out.”

***********************

Namjoon hears the gunfire. The cling clang of emptied bullet casings as machine guns fire a torrent of ammunition. He sees Jungkook. The wound. The grenade. Explosions ringing in his ears. The coppery smell of blood everywhere. The windy beat of the rotors from the helicopters.

“JK! JK!”

The low moans wake you, and you hurry to the armchair. He’s broken in a cold sweat, trembling feverishly in the clutches of a nightmare. You know the signs. It happened to Jungkook too when he returned from a tour of duty that was just terrible.

Quickly, you hurry to wet a face towel in warm water. Tucking the towel at the back of his neck, you hope the light pressure from the heated towel will help to calm him like it did for Jungkook. It’s no use to try to wake him when this happens. You must let it run its course.

“Stay the fuck alive! JK! Y/N needs you! Come back. Come back you sonofabitch!” With his face, twisting in anguish, Namjoon continues to sob in his delirium. “I love her, love her so much, it fucking hurts. But she’s yours. I can’t take care of her like you do. You gotta make it JK. She’s waiting for you. Take my place. Take my fucking place!”

The revelation shakes you.

Namjoon loves me.

The little signs. The little signs were true after all.

You don’t know what to think except how vulnerable he looks now, curled in the armchair, crying quietly, still locked in the trauma of his mind.

You wish you could kiss him and make all the bad dreams go away. To rock in his arms and comfort the hurt away.

All you know is you want to protect this man who has spent his whole life protecting others, including you and Jungkook.

But he’s returning to the base after the drive home tomorrow.

Duty calls.

***********************

Namjoon is back at the base. On duty, he’s always professional, training with his men, planning ops, talking strategy for high-risk hostage situations. At night, he calls you, asks you about your day, asks about the baby, asks if you remembered your vitamins for the day.

You realize you look forward to these calls. Even after a day of business meetings, even after your daily evening walks, you find that you can’t sleep until you speak to Namjoon.

He doesn’t say much about his work, he can’t. But he does tell you he’s seeing the psychologist at the base. That slowly but surely, he’s learning to let go of his survivor’s guilt.

One night, his call comes late. It’s muffled, like he’s somewhere far away where the connection is terrible. “Have to make it short tonight. Just want to hear your voice one more time Y/N.”

“Joon. What’s going on? Where are you?”

“You know I can’t say. But it’s good to hear you. Don’t forget your vitamins!”

“You’re scaring me Joon. Promise me you’ll make it back. Promise m—”

There’s a long pause.

Kim Namjoon doesn’t make a promise lightly.

“I’m sorry. I can’t. But I promise I’m gonna try. So damn hard. I—I love you.”

The line clicks off before you can reply.

Please make it back. Please. Because I think I love you too.

***********************

The elder Mrs. Kim just got off the phone with another failed prospective match. This is the fourth one in as many days who has refused to come for dinner.

Is something wrong with her kimchi jigae? Was the tofu not fresh enough?

Or maybe it’s her kalguksu? She has always been praised for her thin, hand-sliced noodles. Perhaps it’s a trend to have thick noodles these days? Damn these foodie trends. How on earth is she going to keep up at this rate!

Whatever it is, she needs to get to the bottom of the matter. Something is very wrong. Her son is returning from the base tomorrow, and there are no confirmed dinner dates lined up yet. Usually she would have arranged at least six or seven dinner dates by now.

Sighing, she wonders how she’s going to hold a grandchild if this keeps up.

As she bends low to dust the area under Namjoon’s bed, a sliver of paper dangles between the wooden slats of the bed, catching her attention. What in tarnation could that be? Besides her thin kalguksu, she prides herself in keeping a neat house. No stray piece of paper under a bed is going to survive on her watch.

Giving it a hard tug, she manages to wrestle the paper free. It’s larger than she expected. Studying the fully unfolded paper before her, it suddenly becomes clear why her son has never liked any one of her prospective matches.

It’s the map he’d drawn to ask you to the high school prom.

After all these years, he still kept it.

Mrs. Kim ponders the situation.

And then she makes a call to a new prospective match—one she’s never considered before, whose circumstances are a little unconventional, but it’s one who has the best chance among all the women so far in winning her son’s heart.

She calls you to come over for dinner tomorrow night.

Because one thing Mrs Kim is known for, besides her thin, thin kalguksu noodles, is for her complete lack of patience.

***********************

Namjoon is exhausted. The post-ops debriefing took longer than expected. The higher-ups wanted a complete breakdown of all the factors that led to the success of one of the most covert, and most dangerous multi-stage missions in the history of Team 613.

He'd received an immediate promotion with the success of this mission and would be given longer home leave before taking up his new position as Captain, he can even make it for the baby’s birth! You got a quick call about it but he had to dash off for the next debrief. The sooner he got through these meetings, the earlier he could come home. He wants to see you. Badly.

Captain Kim Namjoon was supposed to be back by seven-thirty for the first matchmaking dinner of his home leave, but it’s almost eight. He’d rather pop over to your place to say hi than sit through another silent dinner with a stranger. “Ma, I had a really rough day. Must we really do this tonight?”

“You must, not we must. Go shower, you stink like Mrs. Choi’s rotten oyster kimchi.”

“Ma, I’ve been meaning to tell y—”

“Shush, whatever you want to say can wait. This one’s different.”

“But Ma—”

“Namjoon.”

With a defeated sigh, Namjoon says the two words that have kept him out of trouble all his life: “Yes, Ma.”

Shower done, he has barely time to dry off his wet hair when his mother raps on the bathroom door. “Joon, hurry up!”

“Coming, Ma.”

He hurries out of the bathroom to appease his mother, only to be hustled into the dining room. For such a small, wiry woman, Mrs. Kim is surprisingly strong when it comes to pushing her son to find a wife.

“Hey—” you say, when he appears in the dining room.

“Wait. What are you doing here? You didn’t tell me you were coming over for dinner?”

“Well, your mom said she’s making kalguksu. I can’t say no to that.”

Namjoon turns around to his mother. “Ma, what’s Y/N doing here? I thought you said it was another of those matchmaking dinners?”

Mrs. Kim knows when to make an exit. “Enjoy your dinner!” she beams. “Remember to eat for two, Y/N!” are her last words before disappearing in a huff of grandmother-to-be excitement.

“Wow. Wait. Did you know about this?” Namjoon is confused as fuck. What the hell is going on?

Slowly, you walk over to him. “I didn’t know about this.” Reaching into your bag, you take out the map from all those years ago he made.

He’s slack-jawed. “Where did you—how did you?”

“Your mom. She found it and gave it to me. It’s sweet, Namjoon. I didn’t know that you wanted to ask me out then. All this time, you loved Jungkook and loved… me.” You now realize the depth of Namjoon’s selflessness. His loyalty to Jungkook, his dedication to you. “We don’t deserve you—”

“Shh… none of that now.” He places a finger on your lips before he can stop himself. Oh god. Why are your lips so soft against the pad of his fingers? He wants to trace their bend and curve, wants to part them with his own. “I’ve always loved you. If you’re willing to give me a chance, well, you probably need time to think it over, but if you’re willing, I promise I’d—”

“I want to. So, so much,” you look at him solemnly. With a deep breath, you add, “But I also think I need time. Will you be willing to wait for me?”

Namjoon gulps. This is it. This is it.

“I am. I’m willing to wait.”

Behind the door of the dining room, the stealthy Mrs. Kim allows herself a big grin, barely able to contain the huge celebratory whoop which threatens to bust out of her lungs. She can feel the grandbaby in her arms already. It might take time, but for this, she’ll wait too.

***********************

Nobody tells you how grief can be a friend as well as an enemy.

Some days, as you waddle, round with child, looking for maps in flea markets and estate sales, a painting you think Jungkook would love catches your eye.

You’ll take a closer look, admire the blend of colors, the brush strokes, and enjoy the painting even more just because Jungkook would have loved that.

Or you might be passing by a church and a piece of choral music would float onto the street and you can almost hear the way he would hum the melody. You’ll stop. Listen. Imagine.

Those days, you would smile, giggle even, in childish delight because knowing and loving Jungkook has helped you to enjoy more of life.

Other days, grief comes stealthily like a thief. You might be doing the laundry, and the smell of the detergent which you’ve used everyday, which he loves so much, would overwhelm you with such longing that you’re brought to your knees, weeping on the floor in a pile of dirty clothes, wishing he would just come back.

But in the good days and bad days of grieving, there’s Namjoon quietly offering comfort. He comes around to sit with you in your grief. Holds you when you want to be held. He’ll murmur words to strengthen the bones of your soul so you can stand and not be crippled by sadness, walk and not be crushed by the weight of loss.

And little by little, Namjoon’s words, Namjoon’s presence, Namjoon’s acts of service build you a map of sorts to navigate your journey through grief. He’s the compass, always pointing you to living a life that Jungkook would want you to live.

And so, like a map you always have with you, Namjoon’s next to you when you want to go for a walk under the stars because the baby’s somersaulting so hard in your belly you can’t sleep. You teach him the constellations Jungkook has shown you, and he holds you close as you lean into him.

He’s next to you when your waters break, when the contractions are so painful, you can’t breathe, let alone stand. He’s here—quietly giving you the strength in his arms, praying courage into your heart.

He’s next to you when you’re pushing long and hard, when you’re exhausted from twenty hours of labor and nine months of carrying precious cargo in your belly. He’s here, holding your hand, urging you not to give up.

And when you hold the precious one, your little star, your Byeol, in your arms, he’s next to you, crying with you because of the miracle of Byeol’s life and the pain of Jungkook’s death.

He’s next to you, when Byeol has her first fever from cutting a tooth. He’s here rocking her and jiggling her in that special way that always calms her after she has wailed all night.

He’s next to you when you clap your hands at Byeol’s first crawl, her first step, her first word.

Always, in the moments that count for you and Byeol, he’s here, next to you.

And after a while, you realize you don’t want to spend life with anyone else but Namjoon next to you.

You needed time to realize this, and he didn’t mind it one bit.

Because you’ve found your own map to him. You’re here. You’re next to him. And he’s next to you.

And that’s all that matters in this great, big world.

~The End~

Epilogue

And then it happens.

During the nights when Byeol is particularly fussy, you’re grateful that Namjoon offers to take the couch. He has a way of rocking her and soothing her with his own made-up lullaby that calms her right down.

He had intended to put her peaceful, sleeping form back in her crib and then make the short drive home. He was going to ease you from the sofa and into your own bed and then leave. Maybe give you a short kiss goodnight on the forehead before walking out the door.

But tonight, his intentions fly out the window when you fluttered your eyelids open like that, and pleaded with him in that breathy, sleepy voice to please stay.

But tonight, his resolveto hold back melts when you pulled him into your bed and whisper hold me.

Tonight, he can’t help himself.

And so he stays, breath ragged and uneven when you bring his arms around your waist as he spoons you from behind. He stays because when he closes his eyes and smells your hair he remembers the carefree days of Bibimbaps Forever. He stays because he can’t say no to himself and to his demons anymore.

With your ass flushed against his stomach, and your breasts teasing his arms wrapped around you, the tension in his muscles melt away.

The last thought he has is why something which should feel so wrong feels so right.

———————

You must have turned to face Namjoon sometime at night because the first thing you see when your eyes open is the sharp bump of his Adam’s apple. Finding yourself still tucked under his chin, pressed against the deep rise and fall of his chest, you take your time to admire the thick sinewy arms curved around you. Lightly, you caress him with the very tips of your fingers from the curve of his neck, to the slope of his shoulder, then over his biceps.

The tremble of his skin is slight, but it’s there nonetheless. Tiny goosebumps trail your fingers, as if his very cells are drawn to your touch.

You shift back slightly, this time tracing the strong outline of his jaw, feeling the slight stubble by his chin, loving that roughness against the soft pad of your fingers.

Before you could stop yourself, you press the slightest of kisses to the underside of his jaw, not wanting to wake him, but not wanting to deny yourself either. And once you’ve tasted his skin, you can’t resist another small kiss. And another.

“Hey. You’re awake.” His morning raspy voice is sexy; and it thrills you to hear it so close to your ear.

“Mmhmm. Thanks for getting Byeol.”

Namjoon smiles. He gives himself a moment to linger under the warmth of the covers with you. You’re gorgeous, especially like this, make-up free, your features alight with a soft glow as the natural early morning light filters in through the curtains.

But he knows he needs to get the fuck out of here. Any moment now, and he’ll be itching to kiss you back. And one thing will lead to another.

“I should go. Gonna check on Byeol before I head out.”

You glance back at the baby monitor. She’s deep in slumber, her little tummy rising and falling peacefully.

“Joon?”

“Yeah?”

“Byeol’s fine. Don’t go. Stay please?” Fingers clutching on tight to his skin, you hope his body understands what you want, no, what you need.

He gulps hard at your words. “Stay because…?”

“Because I-I need you so much.”

Namjoon hesitates. He thought he would be ready for these words. God knows how long he has dreamt of them. But he isn’t ready. Not really, when you sound like this, desperate and wanting.

“Don’t you want me too?” The words could barely tumble out, you’re more than just a little unsure of yourself now. JK always made the first move, always made you feel wanted. Perhaps it’s your post pregnancy body that just doesn’t turn Namjoon on?

Your eyes search his and you catch a glimpse the conflict within: He wants you, but he’s afraid.

“Shhh… don’t talk like that. You know I do. God, I want this too. So fucking much. But…but I’m not JK.” His eyes implore you to reassure him that you can accept him as who he is, a man with his own frailties and foibles. “I can never be him.”

“You’re Namjoon. I know that,” you murmur, caressing the side of his face. “You’ll always be my Joon.”

He closes his eyes at the sound of that. Your Joon. It’s what he has always wanted to be.

“And Joon, I need to know–I need to know that I’m not a duty or an obligation to you,” you say softly, not daring to look at him.

Namjoon’s eyes fly open at your words. He sucks in a breath. Gently he brings his hips flushed against yours. “Feel that?”

You gasp at how hard he is, how hot and thick he feels beneath the layer of sweatpants and underwear, the simple action already lighting your body afire.

“Y-yeah,” you answer shakily. You can feel your own core getting slick at the contact with the ridge of his cock.

“Think I’d be this hard if you were a duty?”

“N-no,” you moan, as you find your own hips canting against his, your hands already entwined around his neck to anchor yourself to him.

“You’re a gift,” he murmurs, almost dying now from the sensation of the heat of your body pressed against him. His whole heart has ached for you, for so much, for so long. A duty? Never. “The best one.”

“Wanna be your gift then, just yours,” you whisper into his neck, breath fanning each word into flames. “Wanna be so good for you.”

His heart is beating wildly now. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined to be loved by you, wanted, like this.

You’re not sure who kissed who first, but your lips part invitingly, urging him to take everything you have to give. And he’s so hungry for you, so damn hungry, he doesn’t wait, a possessive thrill taking over his kisses, kisses with tongue and teeth, kisses with a thoroughness that you’ve not experienced before. “Mine now,” he murmurs between kisses, “mine now.”

He nips at you now, moving lower, down your neck, across your shoulder, pulling the strap of your tank-top to the side, not wanting to miss a single inch of your skin.

“Help me take it off, Joon,” a little garbled plea escapes from you as you sink into the sheets, caged between his arms, his body hot and hard on you.

He eases the flimsy top off your head, marvelling at your lush, full breasts, heavy in his palms, nipples teasing him to touch, to taste.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he breathes every word into your skin. “So beautiful.” He kisses down your other shoulder, thumbs circling the peak of your nipples, drawing little gasps from you, And when he puts his mouth over the taut, tender flesh, you can’t help but moan with pleasure.

“Oh. Oh. Keep going,” you whine softly as you press more of your breast into his mouth.

Namjoon groans at your sweetness, but sweeter still are all the sounds you make for him, because of him. The way your fingers grasp at his hair, fingernails scratching him lightly on the back of his neck just makes him want to attend to your pleasure even more.

Dipping lower, Namjoon licks and teases the twin curves below your breasts, relishing the way your body arches and strains into his. He encounters the little marks across your stomach, marks that held the stretch of a baby. Your hands fly to cover them, but he brushes you off, lets his tongue trail along each one, murmuring into your skin that you’re his gift. A beautiful gift. Every inch of you.

“Go lower,” you urge him, “need you lower.”

He hooks a finger under the waistband of your shorts and shimmies them out of your legs. From the wet fabric at the crotch of your shorts in his hand, he can tell you’re already dripping for him. “How are you so wet, love? I’ve only just kissed you.”

“Wet for you. God, I need to feel you inside me. ”

“You will. I promise. Let me just–”

“Joon, your clothes. Take them off.”

Namjoon has never shed his clothes so quickly in his life. He’s hard, incredibly so, and he’s holding back as much as he can not to just fuck right into you when he sees your naked body flushed hot, thighs trembling with need, nipples tight.

“I kiss you here? Is that okay?” he asks as settles between your legs.

“You don’t need permission to love me, Joon.“

Namjoon nods against the inside of your thighs as he inhales the scent of your arousal coated there. He tongues you, gently first, and then with surer strokes, thinking he’s in heaven, here, between your legs, your fingers curled in his hair, pulling him closer into you in a rhythmic kind of desperation.

“Think I’m going to come,” your voice is needy from Namjoon’s attentiveness to your clit. “Joon—”

Your moans electrify him, and his cock throbs when you come messily all over his mouth, over his fingers that have begun to curve inside you, over and over and over.

Namjoon almost keels at your breathless cries, so turned on is he that he nearly comes on himself, hips rutting against the sheets in anguish to find his own release too. “Fuck, fuck. Fuck.”

“Please, Joon? I need you inside me. I-I just can’t wait anymore,” you beg.

“Is your back still sore? I can come in from spooning you.”

“Yeah, wanna. Hurry.” You turn to your side, core aching for him to fill you.

Namjoon doesn’t heed your pleas to hurry. He takes his time, planting tender kiss after tender kiss down the back of your neck, down your spine. You shiver every time his lips fasten on your skin, moan when you feel the hot wetness of his tongue, when his teeth nips at you. It’s insane, but you think you can come again just by how he’s kissing your neck while thumbing your nipples and playing with your clit.

Urgently, you reach behind you to touch his cock, eager to put your hands on him. He groans when you do this, hips instinctively thrusting into your palms because he’s so goddamn close himself.

He lifts your leg, shifting his lower body as he gently parts your slick folds and places his cock right by your cunt.

The searing heat of his flesh on your flesh threatens to consume you. You whimper pathetically at how good it feels. “Need more,” you beg.

With his hard cock nestled in the soft juncture of your thighs, he slides slowly back and forth, back and forth, “Just get used to me first, love.”

You nod, feeling utterly tortured by desire. You know he’s not deliberately teasing you, he’s just looking out for you. But you’re ready. So ready.

“You okay?” He’s panting so hard against your neck. God, how he just wants to angle his cock and thrust up into you to chase his own release.

“Please.”

He shudders at your plea. God. Why does everything from those sweet lips of yours affect him so?

Carefully, he places the tip of his cock inside you, gasping at how warm and wet you feel around him. He’s never fucked bare before, always careful to use protection, and oh god, your pussy seems to draw him in deeper. “Tight. Can you take more?”

“Yeah, I can take it. Want all of you,” you let out a desperate, airy cry.

Using one hand on your waist to anchor you to him, he pushes in a little more, a little harder now. He’s twisting a bit to get the angle just right, determined to feel every inch of your cunt creaming around his cock on his first stroke in. “Does it hurt?”

“N-no. So good. Keep going. Please.”

He surges in now, not able to hold back and finally stills himself when he’s fully, completely inside you. Your walls pulsate around him, causing him to throb harder within. He tries to read your face when you throw your head back against him, and he sees your eyes, half-lidded with lust, mouth open with effort as you adjust to his entirety.

You feel so full, just his first stroke in and you’re trembling with desire. “Go slow,” you gasp.

“Okay, love. Going slow.” He withdraws slowly and then pumps back in tentatively. It’s dizzying, the way he fills you. The way he loves you. Slowly you find a rhythm to his thrusts, your core now readily accommodating him.

Namjoon’s jaw is clenched so tight to keep him from bucking hard into you, keeping his strokes gentle and shallow.

“Don’t hold back. Want you, want you to come inside me” you urge, grinding yourself back into him.

Something snaps in him, to hear you want him as much as he wants you. After so long of wanting you, needing you, he finally has your permission to let go. He pistons his hips into you, thrusting with all his might, breath coming out in hard pants as he hasn’t never felt so good in his life. Both hands are at your hips now, ensuring that you feel his every stroke, deep and hard.

“There. Right there, Joon.”

Namjoon feels the way you vibrate around him when he pushes in at that angle. He does it again. Again, into your wet warmth. “Come once more for me, love,” he commands quietly.

Your orgasm comes like a wave, curling your toes, tightening every ligament and tendon within. You stop breathing, stop anything and everything as your senses explode.

Namjoon comes shortly after, moaning louder and louder till you feel his release spurt hot and deep inside you, his hands desperately clinging onto you lest he drown from the sensation of being buried inside you.

With desperate gasps of air, you twist your head back a little to reach for his face, cupping his jaw. He looks completely fucked out, a sheen of sweat lining his forehead.

He finally opens his eyes, and meets your gaze. Mustering his remaining strength, he whispers the words he has longed so much to say aloud. “I love you.”

“I know. And I love you.”

“I know,” he answers quietly. “I know it now.”

And in the way of babies with impeccable timing, little Byeol lets out her first cry of the morning.

READ Epilouge Here (sfw)

Read Ask My Muse here regarding the wedding

Read Ask My Muse regarding what if Joon moved on

Song during memorial service: An Irish Blessing by James E. Moore Jr.

Posted on July 11, 2021 by sahmfanficbts. All Rights Reserved © 2021 @sahmfanficbts. Please do not translate, post or upload this content onto any platform including YouTube without permission. This is a work of fiction.

Dear Reader,

Grief is like a lover and like an enemy, it pursues us through our lives. I have grieved for grandparents whom I’ve lost, the collapse of a relationship, grieved for friends near and far, for seasons of life gone wrong and innocence that I’ve lost. Wherever we may be in our grieving, let us not give up hope in the better days to come.

Give yourself time. Give grief time. And give hope a chance.

Love, Sam

Like a Wave, She Broke; But Like the Sea, She Persevered

A Robb Stark x Yi Ti fem!OC/Reader & GOT AU Fic

Chapter One: Farewell/Goodbye

Next Chapter

Author's Note: Hello, so I am very new to writing fanfiction, and also I have never read any of the books, but I have done a lot of research. This fic will be mostly based on the show Game of Thrones, but it will take elements from the books (especially for the characters Euron Greyjoy and Stannis Baratheon). Also there is practically no information of the language/culture of Yi Ti according to GRRM. So taking in mind that it is supposed to be inspired by "Imperial China," I used simplified Mandarin because while I do think Cantonese would be better considering how the geography is inspired by southeastern China, I need pinyin and can only speak Mandarin. I will offer translations at the bottom. Also for the names, I am not perfectly clear how they work so I basically tried to make a name using characters that I felt would have a lot of impact together.

Warning(s): This fanfiction will include dark themes of the following: sexual content, sexual abuse, violence and violent themes, child trafficking, depression, angst (so much angst), and dark/yandere attitudes. (Please comment if I had missed anything)

“I made it… I actually made it.” I thought to myself as I slumped onto the deck, relief flooding my body as my legs start to give out in exhaustion. I managed to get onto the ship just before it left the dock. I close my eyes and try to breath as waves rock me back and forth like a never-ending pendulum. The last time I had been on a ship felt like several lifetimes ago, although I supposed that it was true in more ways than one. For as I had so fervently sworn to never step foot onto another ship, I could not deny that a part of my heart was soothed by the familiar cries of gulls, the thundering orders of those and command, and the waves crashing against the wood of a vessel completely at its mercy. Still, I felt myself turning green, and soon 黛玉 (Dài yù) is curling up next to me, offering much needed comfort. I curl myself around her, and breathe in her fur. Her fur, whether dry from a nearby fire or soaked in red life, smells of cypress, smoked sandalwood, and spices. It reminds me of Winterfell, of the North, of my second home. Once again, I thank Lord Stark in allowing me to keep my sweet shadowcat when I found her as an orphaned kitten from a band of poachers that had already killed her family and intended to skin them for profit. As I continued to stroke her luscious black and white striped fur, I felt 黛玉's (Dài yù) deep purrs turn to breathing becoming deeper and more consistent to signal she was about to sleep. And just when I was about to do the same, hoping for sleep to be dreamless, I heard my name being shouted out in pure agony.

“龙力 (Lóng lì)!” My head shot up while 黛玉 (Dài yù) immediately became alert and ready to strike any figures that posed a danger to us. I turned my head to look at the dock we just left, and to my horror I found a figure so far that he might have been a trick of light. But I remember those eyes, those clear blue eyes. Eyes despite their clarity, were filled with more fury than any storm I had witnessed out in the seas. Eyes belonging to a figure that once stood tall looked broken and defeated, as if their shoulders had been burdened by the gods themselves, although I supposed in a way they had. Next to him was direwolf the size of a small horse holding his head high, and howled so forlornly as if the ship was a floating pyre.

“Robb.” I croak out, my voice sounded so unfamiliar to me. I tried to look away, but I knew if I did, I would never forgive myself. So, I gazed into his eyes trying to shout out every apology I could think of, begging for his forgiveness. When his figure disappeared, I turned around and let out a sob I didn’t realize was there. I curled into myself, reach to my necklace and grasp on the black pendant and pray to any god that would listen. 黛玉 (Dài yù) mewled softly before laying her head on top of mine, even wrapping her arms around me, as if she were a mother soothing a weeping child. I could not bear to see her blue eyes, so frozen yet alive with winter fire. I knew that sleep would never come for me tonight. So instead, I prayed that Robb would not let his impulsiveness cloud his judgement, that he will only focus on the war and freeing the North. I prayed that he will forget me and move on to find happiness of his own and to grow old and happy with a good woman by his side and his siblings all together. But above all, I prayed that he would let me go and let me be free. I do this until my mind blacks out, and a memory had played out as if I was a spectator to moment that did not belong to me.

~Flashback of 7 ago~

“龙力 (Lóng lì),” I decided, gazing at the stone turned dragon pendant handed to me, knowing the confusion that must be filling Robb Stark’s eyes, “my family name is 王 (Wáng), but my first name will be 龙力.” My parents’ sweet “小玉 (Xiao Yu)” no longer existed, she her lullabies were gone forever, but she will never forgotten, not her nor her parents, never again. But “龙 (Lóng)” had taken her place, it was born from the anguish of the small jade in order to a dragon that clawed out of anguish.  “龙 (Lóng)” was a dragon, and dragons carried a magic within them that could never die, not even when the world demanded it. My grandmother was partly right, I was not born a dragon, I was but I was made into one. As for “力 (Lì)”, that would be something of my own. “力 (Lì)” was a testament to my strength. Even before being a dragon, I was strong. I had a strength of my own that belonged to no one but me. And although it had been cracked and broken down repeatedly, it remained. The events forced upon me to realize that strength, however unfortunate, will not go unrewarded.  This pendent was evidence of that, that if a piece of jade can transform and be molded into a strong dragon, then so can I.

I turn and face Robb Stark, the boy I thought was a spoiled and obnoxious brat that had everything handed to him while so many others claw for just a scrap of his fortune, and give him the first hug that I have given anyone since my parents died. I hold for so long and tight that he has to push me away for air. I smiled with tears almost spilling from my eyes, happiness overtaking me for the first time in what felt like a lifetime ago. I kissed both his cheeks, and he turned so red that he tried to sputter out a response, but I beat him to do it.

“王龙力 (Wang Long Li),” I beamed so brightly, “that will be my name. I finally have decided on my name, it is the only thing that was not given to me but what I gave to myself. It is important, too important, but you deserve to be the first to know. I will wear this forever, thank you so much. Thank you so much.” I hugged him once more, and felt his arms wrap around me before tightening and even saw the tips of his ears turning bright red before Maester Luwin came upon us and I showed him my pendent and told him my name. I didn’t have to tell him the meaning of a name, his smile told me enough.

~Flashback Ends~

Waking up I realized that I was still grasping on the black pendant as if it was the only thing that kept me from falling completely apart. I should have left it behind, but I knew it wasn’t a possibility. If I had to take only one thing that could possibly link me to my past, from the youthful joy and spilled blood in Yi Ti, to the beautiful hope and horrendous tragedies in Winterfell, I couldn’t leave it. This pendent meant far too much, for it alone was the sole witness to my life (past, present, and soon-to-be future). It had seen every moment in the life of that once naïve and sweet 小玉 (Xiǎoyù) that played along the warm breezes of the Jade Seas, the 小玉 (Xiǎoyù) that laughed to her parent’s singing songs of the Jade Emperor, the same one that witnessed her family’s slaughter and was stolen away until she no longer laughed, no longer smiled, and eventually forgotten her own voice. The precious and rare black jade that was eventually picked from the pockets of tattered rags to be used as a paperweight by Euron Greyjoy, forgotten by the shadow of a girl who was robbed of every joy and security that should have been her right from birth. A girl who became so broken, who’s soul became so lost, she carved through men with her knifes with such masterful and impassioned fervor and searched through the gashes with such sober and languid eyes to see if she could find hers in their bodies.

But it also witnessed the gaining of her strength, starting at the glimmer of remembrance in hearing an old lullaby sung by a mother with features similar to her own. Every time she snuck away to hear the woman sing, her eyes daring to show wistfulness as opposed to chilling apathy, the black jade could feel the little girl that was constantly struck down finally begin to stand and walk again. Every step that the girl took, the black jade that lost its luster from being forgotten had slowly regained its shine. Even when the kind woman that sung so sweetly was broken in, taken by the wicked pirate’s men and himself, her face with warm eyes and tender smiles, was mutilated beyond recognition, the girl did not fall again. Instead, her eyes held righteous fury and body was fueled by liquid lightning. Quick were her hands in drugging those men, meticulous and masterful were her fingers in slicing through their facial nerves, cruel glee dancing in her eyes as they could make no sound but knowing they felt everything, the sheer intensity and determination of her strength in hoisting their bodies underneath the sail’s pole. So easily could the black jade remain forgotten, once more losing its luster and shine, but the girl had decided that she would no longer forget the little girl in Yi Ti. Because although that girl was gone, dying the day she was sold in Qarth, she knew that the girl still deserved to be remembered, as did the people she loved that died with that girl.

With that decision, this new girl took only a blanket and the jade before changing into a pair of breeches and tunic that sagged over her body to prevent any suspicion of her sex, left Euron Greyjoy to venture to a new place. A place where she would meet a kind and good man, one who she would gladly devote her life in serving and protecting. She would meet his family, his wife and children. A wife that would take one look at the girl, and think her too savage and wild. But knowing in her heart that the girl was someone who would torture herself before letting any harm befalling her family. Children, all so different yet each one had a foundation of wildness, and were raised with so much unconditional love and loyalty that witnessing it had quickly thawed the suspicious girl’s icy walls. A place where she would meet another Greyjoy, but a different Greyjoy, a better one. A Greyjoy whose blood was Ironborn, but his heart would be northern. A northern boy whose blood carried the salt of the sea, but whose heart and soul were strengthened and bathed by the snow, the trees, and the winds of northern land. A boy who she distrusted before slowly and surely becoming her found brother, and she becoming his found sister. A place where she who had sea water in her veins, was not born in the biting inland North but the tropical breezes from the Jade Seas, slowly rebuilt herself from the ground up and fortified her soul with new memories, new happiness, and most of all, a new name. A name she gave herself, with the help of a boy with auburn curls and blue crystalline eyes that shimmered with wide smiles as he gave her the greatest gift that she vowed to carry with her so long as she breathed.

I let out a shaky breath as I once more closed my eyes and began to pray. I never prayed so much in my life before now. I was never one to pray, never one to truly believe in higher beings despite the stories of ancient and powerful magic I heard as a girl that I once believed in, the same stories I told to Bran and Rickon when they entered my rooms to protect them from nightmares. But my grandmother told me that there is usually no point in praying to the gods, because the gods never listen, and if they do, they will often do the opposite just to spite you. She said they had already laid out plans, and we were at their mercy without hope to change it. But maybe just this once, she was wrong. But maybe there are gods that listen, that will hear this unworthy girl’s prayer, that might grant her this one thing. I always thought I was a good granddaughter, always following and listening to my grandmother’s words.

I should have listened better.

*Switching POV’s to Robb*

As the Young Wolf stood there on the port, watching as the ship that carried his love farther and farther away from his arms, looking more and more like the broken boy that cried his heart out when his father died and less and less like the shapeshifting King that tore apart his enemies in the battlefield sung amongst smallfolk across Westeros.

“Your grace, do you want us to commandeer that ship in order to search for the fugitive? It isn’t too late; we can still hope to catch up to it if we use a galley with our strongest men.” Smalljon Umber tried listing off other ways to get to the ship, and was more than ready to do it himself. But Robb knew that doing so would be of no help to him. He knew what game his lady was playing, and he will let her think she had the upper hand for now.

“No.” Robb steeled himself into his full height and once more became the Young Wolf feared in the South. His eyes no longer full of sorrow as they just moments before, now they were filled with ice and a cold fire that looked it would burn you as horribly as it would freeze you in an instant should you be so unfortunate as to touch it. “Now we continue with our goal, marching to King’s Landing and littering the South with Lannister dead until they acknowledge the North’s independence and free my sister Sansa.” Gone was the naïve lovestruck boy, and in his place had risen a hardened leader that had a blade hungry for blood and screams. “But first we gather up the Frey’s and Bolton’s and call for their execution immediately. When Walder Frey’s and Roose Bolton’s heads are separated from their necks, I intend to make them gifts to Tywin Lannister.”

“Fly, fly, fly little dragon,” Robb’s mind hiding the dark whispers swirling in his head. “Fly as far as you can, but know that you will never escape the wolf you cheated.” Anger and fury had further cemented in his bones with each step he took to his steed. He realized long ago his feeling for his cruel lady love. He was enchanted by Talisa’s warmth and kindness, believing that she could be enough to thaw away your bitter chill. But it was all for naught, for nothing could replace you. He should have known this the moment he set his eyes on you when his father first brought you to Winterfell all sullen and feral but strong and determined. When bitterness and jealousy filled him as he heard you laughing at Theon’s stories and saw you two sitting together at dinner. When he caught you gazing at your black rock that you protected so fiercely and he longed to have you feel that way towards him.

“Ah yes, her precious stone,” Robb almost smiled as he remembered one of his most treasured memories, as it was the first time you truly smiled and it was the day you decided your name, “how could possibly forget that day?”

~Flashback to 7 years ago~

“My grandmother gave it to me,” your accent still a little thick when talking in Common Tongue, but you were making extremely good progress according to Maester Luwin, “she said that I would need it one day in order to protect me.”

“Why? Father won’t let anything happen to you while in Winterfell.” Robb thought this obvious, for his father was the strongest and most powerful man in all of the North, and it filled him immense pride and joy in being his son. His father was good and honorable man, one who always kept his promises to each and every one of his people as the Lord of Winterfell. “He promised you when you got here that no one would ever harm you so long you lived under the protection of the Starks.”

“I know all that,” you stated as you rolled your eyes. Of course, you knew that Lord Stark would keep his promise in keeping you safe, as Ned Stark was likely the best man in the world. “But I think it’s for something different, something bigger.”

“What do you mean by ‘bigger’?”

“I am not sure, but all I know is that my grandmother said that this stone would protect me when I would need it most. She said that this particular form of jade was only precious for those who needed it for its magic.”

“Magic?” Robb now rolled his eyes; you were trying to trick him. “That’s what old people tell kids in order for them to behave and not run in passageways and not track mud into the keep.”

“She said that it would lead me to my fate, to a place full of snow and ice and water with little green in the North.” Your eyes had a far-off look; your eyes only looked like that when you were remembering something. Robb hoped it was something good. “She told me that there was a role I had to play in this place, and that the jade would lead me to it.”

“But how will it protect you?” Robb was quickly growing irate. How could a measly stone protect you better than his father, the Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North? A role that he will take over as his heir, making you also under his protection.

“She said that jade protects your spirit and mind from harmful forces, but I must carry it with me and never forget it. Otherwise, it will lose its power.”

“But why does it need to be black? Can’t it do its job if it were white or grey?”

You shook your head. “She told me that it had to be black. In Yi Ti, black is the color of the North, and the North’s element is water, so that means black is the color for water in the North. I think…I’m not sure what she meant, 妈妈爸爸说她喜欢...” you paused as you realized you were speaking in your native tongue; your cheeks grew flushed in embarrassment. Robb pretended that the rosy hue didn’t look the least bit adorable, “I mean, my mama and papa said she liked to…babble I think you call it? But what I do know that it is too important and I need to carry it with me.” Your voice quieted down as faint footsteps crunch the snow behind you only to find Maester Luwin. Deciding that you were done speaking, you stood up and ran to him to see if he could spend some extra time with you how to read and write out Common Tongue.

In that moment, Robb had the most brilliant idea in the world. Truth be told, the preparations alone were remarkably tedious and was probably more trouble than it was worth for a girl Robb had known for a fairly short period of time. It took weeks of searching the castle town to see if any of the jewelers had even heard of “black jade,” let alone worked with it. It was by some miracle only performed by the gods that he half stumbled upon an elderly near blind carver that once apprenticed under a master jeweler who dedicated his life in studying the different practices across the world in the slums. However, Robb was not so young and green to life to expect such luck to spring in his path without something else in demand. But the old man simply asked the chance to meet the wearer of the finished product so that he may see the face of the person who captured the young heir’s heart.

“Though my eyes have almost lost their sight, make no mistake that this old man had lived long enough to know that those in your position would not go so far for someone that did not mean a great deal to you.” He spoke so softly as if witnessing a memory unraveling before him. “And if I had the fortune of my sight, I am sure that your eyes would betray what you deny.”

It took great efforts separating the stone from you, and Robb truly feared for his life if you found out it was him that took it before the product was completed. Thankfully, the old man was a master craftsman, with tools made of bone and fingers so nimble and quick you would never think the man blind at all. When Robb had presented the dragon pendent to you, you first lashed at him something fierce, but in seeing the work had your words failed you. When your eyes lit up and you hugged him so tightly that he thought all the wind had left him, Robb found himself unable to speak. When you had been pushed so that he could breathe, but kissed his cheeks with tears in your eyes, did Robb hear his heart beat at an ungodly pace. Finally, when you had gifted him your name with happiness in your voice, when you chose him to be the first to know your name, did Robb realize that from that day forward, he loved you. He knew you to be the keeper of his heart and soul since he was a lad to when he would become a man.

~End of Flashback~

When he had first awoken from his injuries, barely able to breathe, and you were sitting next to him. Your eyes were filled with glee as you reached for his waterskin and tipped it so gently and carefully to not spill on his wounds. As laid on his cot, cursing himself for falling for such a trap and endangering his men and causing the death of his wife and unborn child. You said no words, only when you so lovingly placed your arms around his neck, allowing his head to rest on your shoulder, did he fall silent. He sat up and held you against him with both arms as you laid tender kisses in his hair. When he looked into your eyes, and begged you to kiss him as he wanted you to for as so long, and though your eyes were uncertain you laid him down on his back, and placed your lips upon his. In that moment Robb’s world felt so whole and happiness had filled so completely that tears escaped and a sob of pure joy was choked out. He knew that he was yours, he always had been, but finally you were his. How happy he was when you pulled away and smiled down at him so sweetly, and you told him to rest so that he can gain strength to fight for his kingdom, his people, his family. How deliriously in love was he in doing exactly as you asked.

And imagine the confusion he felt when he had awoken expecting you by side, only to be met with his lost little sister Arya and his mother. Imagine the fear in hearing how you had left the camp as part of a deal to save him and his men. Imagine the betrayal coursing through him learning that you drugged the water you placed on his lips with a powerful drug that would put him in a heavy sleep that was meant to last a week rather than only 3 days. Imagine the unadulterated fury filling his body as he quickly dressed and called for his steed and Grey Wind to track your scent. And imagine how his heart broke watching the ship being released from its dock, and in a final act of desperation to see your face, he called out your name as Grey Wind let out an ear-shattering howl. Imagine the joy he felt seeing your body turn and your eyes gazed into one another, knowing you hadn’t expected to find you so quickly.

“You will run, you will hide, you can do whatever it takes to be away from me. It will not matter, for in the end I will find you.” Robb’s vow was further his cemented as he rode closer to his camp, ready were the words to carry out the traitors’ executions. “You thought you could escape your wolf, when really all you did was prolong your inevitable fate as his future queen.” Robb’s teeth clenched as he thought this, how stupid you were indeed. To think he would ever let you go now that he tasted your lips, felt your body pressed against his chest, saw your sweet smile as you laid him down to rest. Oh, what he planned to do to you the moment you were in his arms, his cock grew strained and he could feel it leaking at just the thought of him claiming you. He relished at the thought of gazing upon your naked body, laying kisses and bites upon your collarbone and neck for the world to see. He was desperate to suck and nip your breasts as he plays with your soaked cunt with his thick fingers. He could see it so perfectly, you begging for him to mate with you like the bitch in heat you are, begging for his thick cock to ruin you for anyone who even thinks to look at you. How you mewl so obscenely as he slowly slides his throbbing member into your tight heat. Once he is fully sheathed into your wet cunt, and his tip kisses the entrance of your womb, as he intends to go at an ungodly pace with you at his mercy begging to be filled by his pups. How happy you are when he releases load into your womb and praying to the gods old and new that you can be blessed with a child immediately. And how he intends to do so over and over and over until his name is the only thing you can remember.

Translations:

黛玉 (Dài yù): Black Jade

龙力 (Lóng lì): Dragon Force

王 (Wáng): king, but in this context of the story, it just serves as a very common surname

小玉 (Xiǎoyù): Little Jade

妈妈爸爸说她喜欢... (Māmā bàba shuō tā xǐhuān...): Mom and Dad say she likes to...

Please be kind as this is the first fanfic and smut I have even written, but still please like, comment, and reblog!!!

Hope you all have a wonderful day!

Hello! Can I get a romantic scenario of First Contact AU with Yandere TFP Optimus and female human? Maybe she's a bystander who caught his optics, and he decided she'd have a better life with him.

Like, look at this human nest he set up for you, right beside his own berth. There's even functioning water system, electricity, and all. Much better than your apartment, right?

Thank you!

Hi!! Thank you for being my first TFP Optimus request! And yandere on top of that?? AND FIRST CONTACT??? You have excellent taste >:)

It was fun exploring this kind of character for Optimus, I hope you enjoy!!

Warnings: SFW, Fem!Human!Reader, Yandere, First Contact AU, kidnapping

The moment Optimus laid his optics on you, he knew a helpless little creature such as yourself needed to be kept safe.

By sheer coincidence, you were caught in the crossfire of a battle between Optimus and a handful of Decepticons. You dodged and weaved between the heavy footfalls of the gigantic metal titans above you, trying to at least find a decent place to hide. Pieces of metallic armor clashed to the floor beside you as Vehicons fell left and right— the booming sound of the Prime’s blaster fire nearly rupturing your ears.

Black and purple obscures your vision as another ‘Con grunt crumbles to the floor in front of you, and you just barely manage to dodge out of the way. The moment you think you’re home free, however, a shadow casts itself over you, and you swallow as you dare to look up.

A grey pede, readying itself to land upon you.

The towering blue and red mech had cleared the area and was merely shifting his stance. He hadn’t the slightest awareness that you were there.

By reflex, you let out a shrill scream, cowering into yourself on the ground and hoping your demise is quick and painless—

But a deep tremor within the earth and the sound of clanging metal mere inches away from you allows you to let go of the breath you were holding.

Apprehensively, you lower your arms from your face and pry your eyes open, and you lock eyes with a steely blue stare. You’re practically directly under the metal titan, as he takes a step or so backwards to properly examine you.

Optimus was not aware that earth was populated with these… tiny, Cybertronian-like beings.

He suddenly drops to a crouch before you, and the breeze from his movement rushes past you, leaving you flinching and raising your arms to protect yourself once more. He removes his faceplate with a tinny click, and you can see his lips purse in curiosity as he tilts his helm. A massive black servo reaches down to your curled up body, and a finger longer than your entire form pushes its way up against you.

Slowly, your arms are forced away from your face, and you have no choice but to stare up at the alien mech with your stinging red eyes. Your chest trembles with your sobbing breaths as the giant above you studies you like you were a bug struggling to free itself from a web.

That massive digit pulls away from you with ease, but no relief comes to you as you watch it instead wrap around behind you. More of his fingers follow suit, and slowly, you’re lifted up higher and higher into the air until you can’t deal with it anymore and shut your eyes, hoping this was all some terrible nightmare that you needed to wake up from already.

Raising himself to his full height, with his free hand, Optimus presses his index finger into your stomach— prompting a little squeak to come from, what he assumed to be, your intake. You were so small in his hold. You rested nearly flat against his palm, yet that was still not enough to cover the expanse of it. And the way his finger only pushed further and further into you the longer he held it there, you were so… soft. Fleshy. Squishy. A texture unlike anything he had seen upon Cybertron.

A new sensation just barely registers itself into the nervecircuits on his finger, and he shifts his attention just a little to see your face. Your eyes were red and your cheeks were stained with an odd liquid trailing down them— that being the thing Optimus must have felt land on him just moments before. You open your mouth and out emerges a series of noises the Prime couldn’t understand. He wasn’t sure how to describe it— squeaks? Chirps? Trills, maybe? Whatever they were, they enraptured him, and the mech paid the utmost attention to how your mouth so perfectly formed around your noises.

You appeared to be so distraught, poor little thing. It made sense, you had nearly been crushed underpede, after all. The terrified look on your face tugged at Optimus spark in the worst way. “I am sorry, little one,” the Prime offers gently, dragging his finger up from your stomach onto your chest. Then, the mech’s optics widen as he sees your tiny hands reach up to grab the tip of his digit.

You struggle with all of your might to push his massive weight off from on top of you. You could barely breathe with such a pressure atop your lungs, and you shouted up at him to let go, or loosen up, anything.

Meanwhile, Optimus only finds himself further enamored.

Poor creature in his palm, finding no other comfort but in the unconventional hold you kept on his finger. He was right, you must have been utterly terrified at this moment. Optimus couldn’t live with himself if he just left you there.

A little organic, scared and alone, suddenly thrusted into a new world and surrounded by things you couldn’t begin to understand…

You would be much better off if you stayed with him. You would be kept perfectly safe under Optimus’ constant watch, never having to fear finding yourself caught between fights you had no place in. He didn’t know much about organics just yet, especially not of earth’s, but he would do the utmost to assure your comfort. You would never have to feel scared again.

And so, Optimus came to his decision.

He pulls his digit away from you once more, and for a moment, you think your pleads have come through to him. Though, you don’t even have a moment to attempt to communicate once more as you can hear the hydraulics of the mech’s fingers behind you suddenly start to shift. Slowly, you’re tilted within his hold as the digits wrap themselves around your body into a fist. Then, before you can even attempt to struggle against it, you’re brought down from his face and near his chassis. The only sight you’re met with is Optimus’ scratched windshield, and past that, the reflection of your own disheveled appearance. A surge of adrenaline rushes through you as you shout in his grip, doing anything you can to pull yourself free.

But as Optimus hears this, his spark only stings more. You were scared to death, and he knew that, the mech only wished he knew how to assure you that you were safe. He was taking you back to the base, the place where you would be safest of all. Actions spoke louder than words, he supposed— once he saw how well he would treat you, he knew you would eventually see a smile on your face.

With his free servo, Optimus raises it to his audial. “Ratchet, I am requesting a groundbridge at my coordinates. Additionally, I ask that you pull up any information we may have regarding organics and their natural habitats. I have one with me that you may wish to see.”

Mood Boards

An insight into 2 of my upcoming series. I love creating new worlds and concepts. Don't be completely fooled by the colour pallets though, or the songs I've listed.

Lucid

Your eyes tell - BTS

💜♾💜♾💜

Crown

Panic Room - Au/Ru & You should see me in a crown - Billie Eilish

Things fanfic is reputed for inserting into the source material:

Sex

Things fanfic actually inserts into the source material:

Sex

Holding hands

Bizarre misunderstandings

Meticulous descriptions of food and clothing

The author’s unaddressed traumas

Found family

Plausible explanations for existing plot holes

Additional plot holes

Exciting new frontiers in speculative physics, economics, chemistry, biology, zoology, psychology, theology, and/or ontology

Tax evasion

Gender

Very bad puns