#rm command

[nixcraft]

warning: strong language 😬 send this to a friend and lemme know in the comments how you express ✨polite surprise✨

[mpdg-usa-inc]

i uh. i spent probably what is a substantially larger amount of time than would or should be considered "mentally well" to accomplish this.

[lordsheep99]

Linux Comandos Básicos de Consola / Terminal

Comandos Básicos Linux Me han preguntado infinidad de veces como hacer esto o lo otro en linux, y al decir “abres la consola y….” se han echado a atras con miedo. Este miedo, es infundado, ya que la consola o terminal en linux es nuestra amiga 🙂 Un poco de historia La historia de la informática se remonta a una época en la que la interacción con las computadoras se realizaba exclusivamente a…

[thesewordsareallihavetogive]

Off-Duty - Dr. Jack Abbot x wife!reader

Summary: 1k words. Jack comes into the Pitt on his day off with no intention of working. One of his little guests has an affinity for raising his father’s blood pressure and adding to his gray hair. Part 2, Hung The Stars here!

Warnings: unnecessarily long sentences, so sweet it’ll rot your teeth fluff. Poking fun at the U.S. military industrial complex (specifically the Marines). Whitaker catching strays.

a/n: Allow me to contribute to the Girl Dad Abbot Agenda. I gave him fraternal twins here, but his new baby is also a girl. So. The Abbot household will be 3-2 girls-boys because feminism. Divider credit!

If looks could kill, Whitaker would be a dead man.

The med student was approaching the provider dictation desk, about to sit down in a padded rolling chair for the first time all shift when Doctor Abbot firmly gripped the back of the chair seconds before Whitaker could reach for it.

“Oh, uh, sir- I was just gonna sit down and do some charting,” the med student explained in a rush with his perpetual terrified ghost of a Victorian child look.

“You can stand.” Dr. Abbot deadpanned, snatching the chair and whisking it towards the peds ED room.

“Wha-” Whitaker stood, mouth slightly parted. The kid was intelligent and had come into his own throughout his emergency medicine rotation, but some things and some people still never ceased to shock him. He watched through the glass door as Dr. Abbot got far closer to a woman, whom he assumed was the peds patient’s mother, than was professionally necessary.

The woman came into full view, displaying the swell of her belly. The student raised his eyebrows. It was a bold move, even for Dr. Abbot. He estimated the woman to be at the end of her second trimester, if not well into her third.

A toddler bounced from behind the woman and quickly attached herself to Abbot’s leg (the flesh one, anyway). The attending smiled—perhaps for the first time in recorded human history, thought Whitaker—before picking up the child and propping her up on his hip, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

The mother turned to Abbot and smiled, pressing a kiss to his lips while he massaged her lower back with his free hands. His wedding band stuck out against the woman’s lighter shirt. Ah. The wife. A moan that definitely wasn’t appropriate for the workplace escaped the woman, seemingly unknowingly, leaving Abbot with a subtle smirk on his face.

Jack guided his wife into the comfortable chair he’d commandeered. Whitaker envied the relief on her face. The lumbar support cushion and ergonomic design could’ve made him cry. His body was aching for relief after hours on his feet, but he conceded that the woman needed it more than he did.

With a barely audible whimper, the med student went back to his original task. He’s startled when a foldable plastic chair, the ones that are typically kept in patient rooms for guests, unceremoniously clatters down next to him, brought over by none other than the stoic night shift attending.

“My wife said she’s sorry for stealing your seat. I’m not.” Dr. Abbot provided no further context before heading straight back to the room he came from. Some of the surrounding ED staff caught wind of the interaction and glanced up at the status board.

PEDS RM 1. 3 YRS 5 MOS MALE J. ABBOT. FOREIGN BODY INGESTION

Understanding hums sounded out before everyone went back to work.

It was rare to see Jack in anything other than black scrubs at the hospital. Today, he was in full Dad mode. The pink glitter nail polish on his fingers matched his daughter’s. His white New Balance sneakers and cargo shorts allowed a clear view of his prosthetic, which his son had decorated with dinosaur stickers. If you looked close enough, you could see a small apple sauce stain on his shirt.

You relaxed further into the chair and closed your eyes once Jack came back to witness your daughter Ellie toddling around the exam room. At 30 weeks pregnant, rest and comfort were becoming increasingly difficult to come by, especially when raising 3-year-old twins.

Dr. Collins caught Jack sitting at the end of the gurney with his son when she waltzed in, tailed by Matteo.

“What brings you all in today? It’s a pleasure to see the Abbot family. Some members more than others…” Heather teased, making a show out of whispering to Jack’s wife and tickling Ellie.

“Jacob here ate some crayons. Maybe some other stuff too. I want imaging of the GI tract to rule out any other foreign bodies or obstructions,” Jack rattled off, never taking his eyes off his son. The doctor’s leathered, weathered hand dwarfed his son’s small leg. Jack had a tough time letting go of his kids, especially when they were hurt or sick.

“Maybe he’s got a future career in the Marines,” Matteo joked.

“Watch it.” Jack warned with an even glare. The intense look on his face didn’t last long; his wife’s giggle brought a small smile to his face as he glanced toward her. 

You winced when the baby delivered a particularly strong jab to your ribs. Jack’s smile quickly turned to concern before you shook your head to reassure him and ran a hand over your bump. Collins and Matteo didn’t miss the silent communication between the couple.

It made sense for the two of you. You were so in sync—always had been. The Pitt staff rarely got to see Jack’s wife, which you supposed was a good thing. Jack tried to keep his personal and professional life separate, but he’d become known for loving you and your little family so much. He would take your calls in the middle of a shift, routinely add more photos of his family to his locker, and occasionally show up to work with glittery nail polish if he forgot to remove it before clocking in.

Doctor Collins high-fived little Jacob, who was the spitting image of his father, after he tolerated the physical exam.

“No guarding or tenderness. Bowel sounds are hypoactive but present. Has he been NPO otherwise?” The physician glanced between the parents.

“We had breakfast around 8,” you supplied, exhaling when you got another sharp kick straight to the bladder.

“Alright. I’ll put in the imaging orders. Radiology will come and grab you guys soon,” Dr. Collins waved goodbye to the toddlers. 

Matteo kept a stash of stickers in his scrub pocket for the kiddos that came into the Pitt. Jacob gladly accepted one and promptly stuck it on Jack’s prosthetic. Matteo blinked a couple of times, watching the exchange. 

Jack was unfazed. His children seldom went a day without leaving their mark on him. If painted nails and a decorated prosthetic leg made them happy and preserved their innocence, he was happy to be a canvas.

The racecar was a fun addition to the dinosaurs anyway.

a/n: Please let me know what you think! Reblogs & comments keep me motivated <3

Companion piece: Hung The Stars

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[jungkoode]

死 KKANGPAE | #11 死

† embers in the night †

"Camping trips are not your favorite thing in the world, but if Moon made it a thing, then you might as well swallow it up. Just like you swallow up Jeon's glances across the fire during the truth or dare game, or the way the flame of his cigarette glows amber in the distance and you somehow manage to know it's him.

next | index

⚔ chapter details ⚔

word count: 6.5k

rating: mature

content: camping trip stuff, grab the flag game, jessi and V bantering, jessi being a queen, friendship, truth or dare, sexual tension, hidden cig encounters, lowkey innuedo

☠ author's note ☠

You bitches. You unhinged little chaos goblins. DID YOU miss you trees, tension, and team-building trauma? Well, here's more of that.

Who would've thought? Not Moon. He just wanted to force the criminal girlies into the woods like it was a corporate retreat gone feral.

This chapter was so much fun to write. Like. The sheer range. One second we’re all sunburnt and pissed, and the next we’re watching Jessi roundhouse-kick a flagpole while V monologues like he’s in Phantom of the Opera (Violent Remix).

I really loved exploring the absolute clownery of this “team bonding” mission while sneaking in all these little character moments. Jessi and V’s rivalry? I LOVE THEM. SIBLING VIBES BUT MAKE IT DEADLY. ALSOOOO JM’s cardigan diplomacy? Flawless. Takama being a soft deadly kiwi?? I weep.

And then there’s Jeon.

Brooding. Smoking. Being allergic to feelings like it’s his job. (Which, to be fair, it kind of is.)

That last scene?? Baby girl. Baby DARLING. If you didn’t feel that in your knees, go reread.

Also. Also. Can we take a moment to appreciate the absolute tomfoolery of “Never Have I Ever” in a group full of criminals?? Like—everyone’s drinking. Everyone’s unwell. AD’s collecting blackmail. JM’s watching V with that “I’m not touching you but I’m thinking about it” gaze.

And Y/N?? Dropping that bomb about attraction like the menace she is. Girlie took a sip of that chaos juice and said “bet.” Queen behavior.

Anyway. All I’m saying is... get ready for next chapter. Hihihi.

⚔ socials ⚔

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tumblr/twitter: @jungkoode

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎

The sun is being a real bitch today.

You wipe the sweat off your forehead for what feels like the millionth time, cursing whoever decided winter should feel like summer.

Moon, that conniving bastard.

His brilliant idea of "team bonding" in the mountains somehow got RM's stamp of approval, and now here you are, hiking up this godforsaken trail with the rest of Kkangpae's finest.

The gravel crunches under your boots as you trudge along. Something about seeing each other's "true colors" and "building trust," Moon had said. You snort. Leave it to him to turn a camping trip into some deep psychological experiment.

Up ahead, Jeon's leading the pack like the brooding commander he is. You watch him navigate the path with that focused intensity of his, all broad shoulders and purposeful strides. Everyone else keeps their distance—smart of them, really. His storm-cloud aura is doing that thing again, the one that makes the air feel electric and h̶o̶t̶ dangerous.

V bounces around near him like some deranged mountain sprite, which would be funny if it wasn't so unnerving. One second he's scaling rocks like some kind of professional climber, the next he's pelting people with pine cones, cackling like a kid on a sugar rush.

The contrast between him and Jeon is almost comical—darkness and chaos, wrapped up in two very different packages.

"Watch your step here," Flower calls out from behind you, her voice steady and sure.

You glance back to see her expertly maneuvering around a particularly treacherous patch of loose rocks. She makes everything look effortless, even hiking in this heat.

God, teach you her ways.

Jessi's voice cuts through suddenly: "Keep up the pace, we're not here for sightseeing!"

You can't help but grin as you watch her march ahead, red ponytail swinging like a battle flag. Even in hiking gear, she manages to look fierce as hell. Her division members trail behind her like ducklings, trying (and failing) to match her energy.

Something about seeing everyone out here, away from the castle's shadows and politics, feels weirdly raw. Real. You're all still the same dangerous people, just... dustier. Sweatier.

Maybe that was Moon's point all along.

Sneaky bastard.

The late afternoon sun bathes everything in gold, and you can't help but snort at the sight before you. It's absurdly funny seeing Kkangpae's finest trudging through nature like some twisted corporate retreat.

AD looks particularly out of place, blonde hair catching the light like a beacon as he leads his team of tech nerds through the wilderness. They're all following him like lost puppies, probably experiencing their first dose of vitamin D in months. You notice how his casual slouch doesn't quite mask the way his eyes keep scanning the treeline. Old habits die hard, huh?

"For fuck's sake, watch where you're stepping!" J-Hope's voice cuts through the air, his usual crankiness making a brief appearance as one of his medics nearly trips over a root.

Still, there's something different about him out here.

Less Dr. Jekyll, more... well, still Dr. Jekyll, but maybe after a cup of chamomile tea.

His team's got enough medical supplies to handle a small apocalypse, which is probably smart given this crowd.

And then there's JM, floating through it all like some ethereal woodland creature in his oversized cardigan. His financial team looks hilariously out of their element, but they're managing to keep up, probably because JM's presence is as calming as ever.

Though you'd bet good money those designer shoes aren't going to survive this trip.

The path finally opens up to a view that actually makes you pause.

Damn.

The valley stretches out below, all misty blues and greens, and for a moment, you forget you're part of a criminal organization of sorts. Everyone else seems to feel it too—this weird, peaceful vibe that has no business existing among a bunch of gang members.

"Alright, let's set up camp here." Moon's voice breaks the spell, all business as usual. But even his sunglasses can't hide the fact that he's actually enjoying this ridiculous situation.

You watch as everyone scrambles to follow his orders, divisions mixing like some bizarre summer camp activity—and it's kinda funny, seeing assassins and hackers arguing over how to pitch a tent.

Moon clears his voice like a professor about to announce a pop quiz. "Alright, everyone!"

You fight back an eye roll. Of course. The camping trip is not but some structured learning experience.

"Before we set up for the night, we have an activity." There's something almost gleeful in his tone that makes you nervous. "It's a team-building exercise, but with a Kkangpae twist."

Oh great. You watch as everyone exchanges looks, probably sharing your thought that nothing good ever comes from the words "team-building" and "twist" in the same sentence.

"We're going to split into mixed teams," Moon explains, pushing his round glasses up his nose. "Your task is to find and retrieve a flag hidden somewhere in this area. First team back wins."

You catch Jeon's subtle shift in posture—that slight straightening of his shoulders that means his competitive side just woke up. Meanwhile, V's grinning like someone told him there's cookies, which is honestly terrifying given his track record with "games."

"You'll need to use your skills cooperatively," Moon adds, like he's reading from some corporate manual. "This exercise is about strategy, teamwork, and understanding each other's strengths."

"Sounds like fun," Jessi cuts in, hands on her hips. "But what's the catch, Moon?"

Moon's lips curl into what might actually be a grin—holy shit, someone document this rare occurrence—before he drops the bomb: "You must stick together at all times, no one can be left behind. And remember, the forest can be deceptive. Stay alert." He pauses for dramatic effect. "Whoever wins gets to choose sleeping tent and partner."

Well, fuck.

The clearing erupts into motion as people start grouping up, and suddenly you're caught in the middle of what feels like the world's most dangerous game of musical chairs.

Your team's a weird mix, but maybe that's the point.

There's Jessi, JM, and Takama—the powerhouse trio you actually know—plus a handful of faces you usually just pass in the castle hallways.

There's Hyun from Medical, who looks like he'd rather be anywhere else but manages to radiate competence anyway. Seojoon from Cyber's got that twitchy energy all AD's people seem to share, like he's searching for a WiFi signal in this godforsaken forest. And then there's Minji from Stealth, who moves like she's made of smoke—seriously, how does she make hiking look graceful?

"Okay, team." Jessi's already taking charge, because of course she is. Her ponytail swings as she surveys your group like a general reviewing troops. "We've got a diverse set of skills here, and we're going to use them to win this."

JM hums in agreement, somehow making his oversized cardigan look appropriate for a hike. "Let's keep communication open and clear."

"The flag's probably hidden somewhere difficult," Takama cuts in. You've seen him around Jeon enough to recognize that tactical mind at work. "We should start in the denser areas."

The others chime in with their two cents—Hyun promising to play medic (thanks, but let's not need that), Seojoon muttering about search grids like this is some kind of programming problem, and Minji suggesting stealth like she's on an actual mission.

You nod along, trying not to roll your eyes at how seriously everyone's taking this glorified scavenger hunt. "Alright, we've got a plan. Let's just... not die in the process?"

Your ragtag team heads into the forest, and wow, Moon really picked the worst terrain possible. The ground's basically trying to trip you with every step, and these bushes are definitely winning the war against your clothes. But between Seojoon's weirdly effective grid system and Minji's silent-assassin routine, you're actually making decent progress.

Maybe this won't be a total disaster after all.

You can't help but grin as you listen to Jessi and JM's back-and-forth.

"You know," Jessi starts, that trademark smirk of hers making an appearance, "I'm not one for all this sneaking around. If it were up to me, I'd charge through these woods, make a beeline for that flag, and dare anyone to try and stop me."

JM chuckles, and you swear you can feel the calming effect it has on everyone. "That's exactly why we're here, Jessi. To learn different approaches. Besides, subtlety can be just as powerful as brute force, don't you think?"

"Maybe there's some strength in silence," Jessi admits, nodding at Minji. "But come on, it's hard to deny the rush of a good brawl."

"I get that," JM says, his eyes scanning the trees like he's trying to find a hidden Excel spreadsheet or something. "But we're a team. This is about more than just strength. It's about using our heads, too."

Jessi lets out a laugh that probably scares off half the wildlife in a five-mile radius. She claps JM on the back, and you wince, half-expecting him to topple over. But nope, he doesn't even flinch.

Guess that cardigan's hiding some muscle.

"That's why you're here, Jimin," Jessi grins. "You keep us grounded and thinking. But if we do come across another team, I'm not holding back!"

"You wouldn't be Jessi if you did," JM responds with a smile that's way too sweet for a guy who probably knows twenty-five ways to launder money through a lemonade stand. "Just make sure to keep that energy until we find the flag. We'll need it."

You watch as they fall into step together, and it's kind of... nice? In a weird, 'we're-all-criminals-but-hey-found-family' kind of way.

"You're the calm to my storm, Chimchim," Jessi says, and oh, this is the first time you're seeing her softer side. "But let's not forget, we've got Chaewon in another team and there's no way I'm letting her beat us."

JM grins, and you swear you can see the gears turning in that big brain of his. "Not a chance. We've got this." His eyes flick to Jessi's feet. "Just watch your step, though. Can't have you charging off and spraining an ankle. We need you in top form, Jessi."

You bite back a snort. Leave it to JM to be all caring while also low-key telling Jessi to chill the fuck out.

As you trudge along behind them, you can't help but wonder what the other teams are up to. E̶s̶p̶e̶c̶i̶a̶l̶l̶y̶ ̶J̶e̶o̶n̶'s.

Not that you care. Nope. Not at all.

Your throat feels like sandpaper, and you realize with growing irritation that your water bottle is probably sitting pretty back at camp, completely useless to you right now. Great going, genius.

You're in the middle of cursing your own stupidity when Takama falls into step beside you. For Jeon's second-in-command, he's surprisingly... not terrifying?

"You look like you could use this," he says, offering his canteen with a smile that actually reaches his eyes. It's weird seeing such a genuine expression on someone from the Assassination Division.

"Thanks, Takama." You accept the water, trying not to look as desperately thirsty as you feel. "I can't believe I left mine back at camp."

The water hits different when you're this thirsty. You try not to chug it like some dehydrated gremlin, but it's a close call.

"It happens to the best of us," he says, and there's something almost kind in his voice. "Just remember to stay hydrated. We've got a long day ahead of us."

You hand back his canteen, feeling weirdly touched by the gesture. "I owe you one."

"No worries. We're all here to look out for each other, right?"

He says it so easily, like it's the most natural thing in the world. Like we're not all part of a criminal organization where trust usually comes with a price tag.

It hits you then—Takama's actually nice. Not in that fake, calculated way some gang members are, but genuinely considerate. The kind of person who notices when someone's struggling and helps without making a big deal out of it.

You watch him scan the forest ahead, radiating both competence and awareness at the same time. You can't help but think it's almost funny how he ended up as Jeon's right hand—they're like night and day. Where Jeon's all storm clouds and sharp edges, Takama's more like... well, a really deadly teddy bear with a shaved head?

A soft kiwi, maybe?

What even is this gang anymore?

Hyun's voice interrupts your inner chatter. "Eyes peeled, everyone. We're approaching a likely area."

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. No shit, Sherlock.

And then the trees loom overhead, casting weird shadows that make every bush look like a potential hiding spot. You're starting to think Moon's got a sadistic streak, making you play hide and seek in this green maze.

Minji glides forward like some forest nymph, graceful and silent. It's almost annoying how effortlessly she moves. You, on the other hand, feel about as stealthy as a drunk elephant.

"We're making good progress," Seojoon mutters, probably to his imaginary friend.

The guy's been muttering to himself this whole time. You're half convinced he's got a spreadsheet running in his head.

The sun's starting to dip, painting everything in that Instagram-worthy golden hour light. It'd be pretty if it didn't also mean you're running out of time, because where the fuck is the goddamn flag?

You all keep moving together until Jessi throws up her hand like she's hailing a taxi in the middle of the woods.

"You hear that?" she whispers, and there's this glint in her eye that screams 'trouble'.

You strain your ears and—oh. Oh shit. That's definitely the sound of people nearby. Your heart does this weird little skip, part 'fuck yeah' and part 'oh fuck'.

"We move quiet, we move fast," Jessi hisses. "Remember, they're not expecting us. We've got the element of surprise. Let's use it."

You all nod like a bunch of bobbleheads and spread out. You try your best to channel your inner Minji, but you're pretty sure you look more like a constipated ninja.

Jessi peeks over some bushes, and bam—there it is.

The flag.

Your golden ticket to a decent night's sleep and maybe, just maybe, a chance to stick it to Jeon.

Your heart's pounding so hard you're surprised it hasn't alerted the other team.

This is it.

You watch as Jessi's eyes narrow, and you know that look. She's not just seeing what's there—she's looking for all the ways this could go wrong.

Then it happens. A rustle in the trees that's definitely not the wind, and before you can process it, you spot him. V, looking like some demented forest creature, perched in a tree like he's auditioning for a horror movie.

The moment Jessi and V lock eyes, the whole atmosphere shifts. Because fuck. You've seen enough of the chiefs' competitive bullshit to know this is about to get wild.

They both move at once, like someone fired a starting gun. V launches himself from the tree with that unnatural grace of his—so that's where Minji's gotten it from huh?—while Jessi... well, Jessi does what Jessi does best: something absolutely batshit crazy.

Instead of going for the flag like a normal person, she fucking roundhouse kicks the pole. The flag goes flying through the air like some patriotic frisbee, and you have to bite back a laugh because of course she'd pull something like this.

The look V and Jessi share is almost funny—like two cats who just realized they're both after the same mouse. Although it seems to be accompanied by this weird respect, probably buried under layers of competitive spite.

They both land, and V's got that smile on his face. You know the one—that 'I'm about to be an absolute shit' smile that you're really starting to associate with him.

"Well, well," he drawls, brushing off his hands like he didn't just parkour through the forest. "I must say, Jessi, you still know how to make a man's heart race."

Jessi straightens up, and you can practically feel the eye roll coming. "Please, V. The day you can outmaneuver me is the day the Council of Nine turns into a knitting circle."

V's chuckle is low and lazy, like he has all the time in the world. His grin stretches wide, equal parts mischief and provocation.

"But isn't that what makes it so fun?" He gestures between himself and Jessi with a flourish. "You, all brute force and chaos. Me, dripping with finesse. A perfect match, don't you think?"

Jessi crosses her arms, utterly unimpressed. Her gaze could cut steel, but V? He's eating it up.

"Finesse? Is that what we're calling your sneaky little stunts now? Sounds like bullshit with extra steps to me."

The air suddenly turns... weird. Like it's cracking with adrenaline and... whatever the hell their dynamic is. Though it's clear neither is willing to flinch, and the rest of you might as well not exist.

"Ah, but—" V bows theatrically, one arm sweeping out like he's on a stage instead of about to throw hands. "Subtlety is an art form. And me? I'm nothing short of a masterpiece. You know, not everyone gets the honor of sparring with the Stealth Chief."

Jessi barks out a laugh so sharp it echoes through the trees, momentarily silencing the usual rustle of leaves.

"Stealth Chief? Is that what you call scurrying around like some feral house cat? Hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but sneaking isn't exactly fighting. It's just running away in slow motion."

Her stance shifts slightly, weight rolling to the balls of her feet. It's the kind of posture that makes you take a cautious step back, because you've heard of Jessi when she's motivated, and it's not pretty—for the idiot on the receiving end.

V doesn't even blink. Instead, his smirk deepens, resilient as ever.

"Coward, hmm? That's what sore losers say when they can't keep up." He tuts softly, shaking his head as if she's the one being unreasonable.

Oh, boy.

You can almost feel Jessi's hackles rise. Her eyes narrow into slits, a dangerous glint stealing across her face.

"The only finesse you're gonna have is figuring out how to pick your teeth out of the dirt, pretty boy."

It's like the temperature drops a few degrees—or maybe it's just the shadow of their looming chaos. Everyone else stays frozen, like one wrong move will get them caught in the crossfire, and honestly? You wouldn't blame them.

V circles her slowly, scornful expression still intact, obviously. But there's an edge to it now, playful but keen, like the blade of a knife.

"Oh, Jess," his voice turns mocking, "I'd consider you competition... if we were in the same league."

And that's it. That's the match to her gasoline fire.

Jessi lunges first—of course she does. She's all instinct, fast and explosive, and it's honestly terrifying how much energy she has left even after the trek through the forest. Her feint is quick, purposeful, a snap to the left designed to bait him.

But V's not a rookie. He doesn't take the bait. Instead, he stays planted, watching her with that maddening patience of his, tracking her every move like she's easy to figure out.

"Come on, V," Jessi taunts, her voice bright. "What's the matter? Scared I'll knock that smirk off your face?"

V leans back slightly, just enough to dodge her next swipe. He looks far too calm, that smirk of his like a permanent fixture.

"Oh, Jessi, Jessi, Jessi." His voice is mockingly soothing, like he's trying to calm a rabid dog. "I'd actually have to notice you to be scared."

You don't know whether to laugh or take cover. Probably both.

V springs into action like some unholy mixture of a cat and a ninja. This is the first time you've seen him fight, and honestly you're not entirely sure he's actually trying.

Maybe it's just the pure glee radiating off him as he dances around Jessi's attacks.

Jessi's not making it easy for him. She's fierce, determined—and girl's got stamina for days. But V? The bastard's treating this like his own personal performance art, ducking and weaving like he does this while eating a bagel for breakfast.

"Come on, Joo," V taunts, narrowly avoiding Jessi's grab. "Getting slow in your old age?"

"I'll show you slow, you little shit!"

Suddenly V feints left and Jessi takes the bait, lunging forward with enough force to probably knock out a bear. But V's already spinning away, cackling as he dives for the flag.

His fingers brush the fabric, and for a second, you think he's got it. But Jessi? She's not Logistics Chief for nothing. She hooks her foot around his ankle—dirty move, you love it—sending him slightly off balance. It's not much, but it's enough.

They both grab the flag at almost the same moment, and suddenly it's a weird game of tug-of-war mixed with what looks like interpretive dance. V's got the advantage of height, but Jessi's got pure stubborn determination on her side.

"Let go, you overgrown weed!" Jessi grunts, yanking hard.

"Ladies first," V purrs, and you see the exact moment Jessi's eye twitches.

She does something then—some crazy mix of a twist and a roll that makes you dizzy just watching—and suddenly V's grip slips. The flag comes free, and Jessi stumbles back, barely keeping her balance but clutching her prize like it's made of gold.

V's jaw falls, and it's like he's about to curse her out.

But then, he simply straightens up, brushing dirt from his clothes with exaggerated care. His hair's a mess and there's a leaf stuck to his shoulder, but he's still grinning.

"Well played, Jessi." The words come out warm, genuine. "You've still got the moves."

Jessi's victory dance consists mainly of waving the flag in V's face. "Not too shabby yourself, pretty boy. But let's not forget who the winner is here."

You watch them, these two ridiculous powerhouses of Kkangpae, playfully shoving each other like actual siblings.

Maybe this is exactly what Moon wanted you to see.

The walk back to camp feels like a victory parade.

If... victory parades involved a bunch of criminals trampling through the woods.

Jessi's leading the charge, waving that flag like she just conquered a small country.

The clearing comes into view, and suddenly you're all celebrities. The other teams are gathered around, some actually cheering, others looking like they just bit into a lemon. You catch a few eye rolls—sore losers much?

"And then—" Jessi's voice booms across as she launches into her dramatic retelling. She demonstrates her kick, nearly taking out a poor sapling in the process. "—the flag was mine!"

"Ours." JM corrects.

You bite back a laugh. Trust Jessi to turn a game of capture the flag into an epic saga.

"That's my girl!" Chaewon hollers from the sidelines, looking like a proud mom at a soccer game. She bounces over to Jessi, and they fall into their usual rhythm of playful jabs and inside jokes.

The attention shifts to JM, who's scanning the crowd intently—but before he can even open his mouth, V materializes next to him like some kind of demented jack-in-the-box.

"Come on, JM," V purrs, draping himself over JM's shoulders. "You know you want to bunk with me. I'll keep the monsters away."

JM sighs, but you catch that little smile he's trying to hide.

"I suppose someone needs to make sure you don't terrorize the entire camp." He shakes his head, fond exasperation written all over his face. "Fine, you win."

Now it's your turn. You glance around the clearing, weighing your options. Your eyes land on Yunjin, and something in your chest settles.

After all this chaos, her gentle presence feels like finding a quiet corner in a noisy room.

"I choose Yunjin," you say, and watch her face light up like a sunrise. "We'll take a two-person tent."

"I'd like that," she replies softly, and you know you made the right choice.

At least someone in this camp won't try to murder you in your sleep.

Hopefully.

The sun finally gives up its assault as evening rolls in.

Everyone's hustling around, pitching tents like they actually know what they're doing (spoiler: most don't), while someone gets a bonfire going. You find yourself plopped down next to Yunjin, watching the flames dance.

The clearing's alive with chatter and laughter—gang members discussing random stuff like normal citizens.

You notice from your periphery that Chaewon and Jessi are cackling about something, probably roasting someone (metaphorically, for once).

Their friendship hits different when you see them like this, all guard down and genuine.

Not far from them, V's got JM trapped in what looks like the world's most animated conversation. He's all dramatic hand gestures and shit-eating grins while JM just sits there, dropping these little zingers that have V practically bouncing.

The fire crackles, bottles clink, and for a moment it's like... you're at some normal camping trip.

If normal meant with your dysfunctional criminal found family thing.

"Alright, folks!" V slaps his thigh like some demented camp counselor, grinning like he just thought of the best worst idea ever. "How about we spice things up a bit? Never Have I Ever—you drink if you've done it."

The response is a mix of "hell yeah" and "oh god no," but you know everyone's going to play anyway. That's just how V's chaos works—it's like a black hole, sucking everyone into its orbit.

AD shifts against his log, looking way too comfortable for someone sitting on literal dirt.

"This should be good," he drawls, and you can practically see the blackmail material forming in his brain.

"Just remember," J-Hope cuts in, trying (and failing) to sound responsible, "I'm not drinking tonight."

You notice how AD's eyes flick to him for just a second, unspoken words being thrown into the space between them.

You don't have enough time to decipher it though, because soon enough everyone is grabbing their drink (or in J-Hope's case, what looks suspiciously like apple juice).

This is either going to be the best team-building exercise ever or the start of World War III.

"Never have I ever..." V drawls, and you just know he's about to say something stupid. "Gotten a tattoo I regretted the next day."

A few drinks go up, and AD mutters something about a phoenix that sounds suspiciously like a drunk decision gone wrong. You catch J-Hope trying not to laugh at that—probably because he's the one who had to deal with the infection afterward.

The game picks up speed, stories getting bolder with each round. Your brain's starting to feel fuzzy around the edges when it's your turn.

"Never have I ever..." You tap your bottle against your chin, grinning. "Bailed someone out of jail before sunrise."

The response is instant—bottles going up everywhere like some weird criminal toast. Jeon takes a particularly long drink, and you can't help but wonder how many times he's had to rescue his disaster squad from lockup.

"Never have I ever," AD announces, shooting J-Hope that shit-eating grin of his, "been caught in a ridiculous, bright yellow suit that could be seen from space.

J-Hope doesn't miss a beat. "Never have I ever walked into a glass door because I was too busy admiring my own reflection."

The clearing erupts with laughter, and AD shoves him like he wants to murder him. You swear these two are one bickering session away from either killing each other or adopting each other.

Then it's your leader's turn, and she confesses to some wild midnight adventure that has Jessi cackling, and then Jessi drops the bomb about her secret karaoke obsession—which weirdly, surprises nobody.

The alcohol's doing its job, making everything feel warm and loose, when V suddenly turns to you. His eyes are glinting with mischief in the firelight, and you know you're about to be targeted.

"Your turn," he purrs, and everyone's eyes swing your way. "Let's hear something juicy."

Oh, it's on.

Maybe it's the alcohol, or maybe it's the fire's dancing in your vision, making faces blur like some abstract painting—but suddenly you've got what might be either the best or worst idea ever.

You lean forward, propping your elbows on your knees, and oh—maybe sitting up so fast wasn't the smartest move. Still, you've committed now.

"Never have I ever," you drawl, feeling particularly bold (or stupid), "found someone in this circle attractive."

The silence that follows is delicious.

Then, the clearing erupts in laughter and the telling clink of bottles.

Your eyes scan the circle, catching all those little tells—the shifted gazes, the not-so-subtle glances. And then—

Oh.

Across the fire, Jeon moves. It's subtle—barely anything at all. But you see it. The way his dark eyes find yours, steady and unwavering, even as he lifts his bottle to his lips.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

Your breath catches, just for a moment, before you collect yourself. The fire crackles as if mocking the heat suddenly pooling in your chest. Goddamn him.

Yunjin's trying (and failing) to be subtle about her giggles, taking the tiniest sip from her bottle. Next to her, Eunchae's practically glowing, her laugh carrying across the fire as she drinks.

Kazuha makes drinking look like some fancy tea ceremony, all grace and poise, while Sakura's grinning like she's got secrets to spare. They share this look that makes you wonder if there's a story there.

And then; there's Takama. His face does this thing where it's completely blank before he drinks, but there's this little smirk playing at the corner of his mouth that says he's in on some joke the rest of you aren't.

V, though? He doesn't even hesitate. "Looks like we've got a crowd full of admirers," he says dramatically, raising his bottle like he's toasting to a room full of fans.

Your eyes catch how they flick toward JM for just a split second, and well—that's interesting.

Laughter ripples through the group again, and the tension eases, though your heart hasn't quite caught up yet.

It's still hammering in your chest, louder than it has any right to be, especially with Jeon sitting there, calm as a fucking statue.

You dare another glance at him, only to find his eyes still on you, half-lidded but watching.

Always watching.

The firelight dances across his face, catching on the silver of his lip ring, the sharp line of his jaw. You can't read him, and that pisses you off more than it probably should.

"Think you're clever, huh?" V says, pulling you back to the moment. His voice is teasing, but there's that signature chaos behind it, something wild and unapologetic. "Careful, sweetheart. Questions like that just set the wolves loose."

You smirk, forcing your gaze away from Jeon. "Good thing I don't mind wolves."

V laughs, throwing his head back dramatically as if you've just made his entire night. Meanwhile, Jeon hasn't moved, hasn't said a word. But you swear you can feel the weight of his presence pressing against you.

Like the goddamn hurricane he is.

You don't miss how JM takes a slow, deliberate sip from his bottle, and that little smirk playing on his lips. His eyes flick briefly toward V before darting away.

Huh.

"Guess we're all a bit fucked up, huh?" Jessi announces with 0 subtlety, taking a long drink and throwing a wink across the fire.

J-Hope leans back against his log, grinning despite his apple juice. "What can we say? We're a good-looking bunch."

Coming from anyone else, it might sound conceited. But J-Hope manages to make it sound like he's sharing some universal truth.

AD just sits there with that infuriating eyebrow raised, looking like he's cataloging every reaction for future reference—and the way his lips curve up at the corners... Yeah, he's probably acquiring blackmail material.

The game keeps going, and you all keep drinking. Everyone redoubles on the alcohol, guards slip a little bit and then the fire's dying down, but the energy around the circle is still very much present.

You blame the booze for the way your skin prickles every time you feel Jeon's gaze slide over to you.

Not that you're keeping track.

The crowd around the fire thins out as the night deepens.

A few stragglers remain—Yunjin and Eunchae huddled together like gossiping schoolgirls, while Kazuha and Sakura stare into the flames like they're trying to divine their futures or something.

You sit there, watching the fire die down, feeling that pleasant buzz from earlier starting to fade.

Then you spot it—a tiny orange glow in the darkness, like a misplaced star.

Cigarette.

And there's only one brooding asshole who'd be lurking in the shadows at this hour.

You get up, picking your way through what feels like a minefield of sleeping bags and empty bottles. You make it through some trees and bushes, and an owl hoots somewhere in the distance, probably judging your life choices.

Then he's there.

Jeon.

Standing there like some noir film character, all broad shoulders and moody silence.

The cigarette between his lips is the only thing giving him away in the darkness.

Dramatic bastard.

"Smoking again?" You try to keep your voice casual, but it comes out softer than intended. Maybe it's the lingering alcohol, or maybe it's just... him.

He doesn't even flinch—of course he doesn't. Mr. Perfect Assassin probably knew you were coming before you did.

He takes a long drag before answering, smoke curling from his lips.

"Yeah." His voice is rough, low. "Had to hide from J-Hope. He'd have my ass for this."

"And here I thought you quit." You lean against his tree, close enough to smell that addictive mix of tobacco and him.

Pine and wood and petrichor.

He finally turns to look at you, and fuck—the way the cigarette's glow catches his features should be illegal.

That smirk doesn't help either.

"Old habits die hard."

"Bad for your health, you know." You're not sure why you're still talking, but something about this moment feels... different. Significant.

His laugh is dark, barely there. "Ain't much about our lives that's good for health, is there?"

Silence falls between you, like tiny droplets of water during a sizzle.

You both know what this is—what it isn't.

You watch him take another drag, mesmerized by the way his lips wrap around the filter. The only sounds are some distant snoring and the occasional hoot of that judgmental owl from earlier.

"You ever think about quitting? For real, I mean?" The question slips out before you can stop it. Blame it on the lingering alcohol, or maybe just the way the moonlight catches on his lip ring.

Jeon rolls the cigarette between his fingers, and you try not to stare at the way they move.

Really try.

"Sometimes," he murmurs.

And god, his voice shouldn't sound like that—all gravely and burnt at the edges from the nicotine dragging down his throat.

"But it's like this—" He gestures vaguely at the darkness around you, at your whole fucked-up world. "It's a part of me. Even if it's not the best part."

Your eyes drift to his face, tracing the sharp line of his jaw, lingering maybe a second too long on his lips as they part to release another cloud of smoke. There's something dangerous about the way he looks right now, something that has you holding yourself back from doing something stupid.

Something really stupid.

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you reach out and snatch the cigarette right from between his lips. His expression shifts from surprise to something else, something you can't quite grasp. His mouth stays slightly parted, just for a moment, before he catches himself.

You bring the cigarette to your own lips, taking a slow drag. The filter's still warm from his mouth. You hold his gaze as you inhale, watching the way his eyes track the movement.

"Look at you," he finally says, voice rough and low, "preaching about bad habits."

You exhale, letting the smoke curl between you like a secret. "Consider it a public service. Just looking out for you."

You can't help the smirk that tugs at your lips.

He leans in—fuck—close enough that you can smell pine and rain and tobacco.

"By taking on the bad habits yourself?" His tone is teasing, but his eyes... his eyes are something else entirely.

Another drag, slower this time.

You're playing with fire and you know it.

"Someone's got to make sure you don't fall off the wagon." Your voice comes out lower than intended, smoke dancing around your words. "Might as well be me."

Your chest burns, and you wonder if it's really just the nicotine. 

Dangerous territory, babe.

You watch as Jeon's eyes track the cigarette between your fingers. He doesn't ask for it back, and somehow that feels more intimate than if he had.

"You're a hell of a contradiction, you know that?" His voice is soft, barely there, but it hits you like a punch to the gut.

You can't help the wry grin that tugs at your lips.

"Aren't we all, in this game?"

The question hovers between you like the smoke curling up from the cigarette still nestled between your lips.

Loaded.

With all the things you're not supposed to say, not supposed to want.

His laugh, when it comes, is low, obscure. Utterly dangerous. It does things to your chest that you refuse to examine too closely.

"We are," he admits, and fuck, the way he's looking at you makes your skin feel too tight. "But some of us are better at playing the part than others."

You pull the cig out of your mouth, roll it between your fingers, watching the smoke curl up toward the stars.

Anything to avoid drowning in those hurricane eyes of his.

"And which one of us isn't playing their part right now?"

You catch the way his jaw tenses, the slight shift as he leans back. It's subtle, but you think you're starting to learn to read these tiny tells of his. The way he holds himself, like he's physically stopping from moving closer.

"We're both walking a thin line here," he murmurs, and there's something in his voice—exhaustion maybe, or resignation. "You know the rules as well as I do."

"I do." The words taste bitter on your tongue. "Doesn't mean I have to like them."

Doesn't mean you have to like the way he makes you want to break them. Squash them. Fuck them.

F̶u̶c̶k̶ h̶i̶m̶.̶

He watches you like he's trying to memorize every detail, and you hate how it makes you feel exposed.

Like you're simply made of glass and he can see right through to the mess underneath.

"We don't get to pick and choose which rules to follow." His voice drops so low you almost miss it. "Not without consequences."

Consequences. It's a horrible word and you suddenly can't help hating it. Fucking stupid consequences.

You take one last drag from the cigarette, letting the burn ground you. It's almost funny how that tiny ember matches the heat that floods your system whenever he looks at you like that.

With a flick of your wrist, you send it spinning into the darkness, watching it burst into sparks before fading to nothing.

"Then I guess we're good at playing by the rules, aren't we?" Your voice stays steady, even if your pulse is doing gymnastics in your throat.

His eyes follow the dead cigarette's arc before landing back on you, and fuck—there's something in that look that makes your chest ache.

"Yeah," he says, and you catch that hint of... something in his voice. Like regret, maybe. Or defeat. "We're the best."

It's almost funny how these stolen moments have become your new normal—these little pockets of time where you both pretend you're not thinking about breaking every single atom of space between both of you.

But rules are rules, and Jeon... well, Jeon follows them like his life depends on it.

And maybe, it does.

Too bad his dedication to the rules doesn't make him any less fucking attractive.

goal: 160 notes. If we don’t hit it, I’m putting you all in Moon’s next trust fall workshop. With V as your partner. Good luck.

next | index

🔪 taglist 🔪

@cannotalwaysbenight @livingformintyoongi @itstoastsworld @redcherrykook @somehowukook @stutixmaru @chloepiccoliniii @kimnamjoonmiddletoe @rpwprpwprpwprw @jimineepaboya @annyeongbitch7 @mar-lo-pap @whothefuckisthishoe @mikrokookiex

© jungkoode 2025

no reposts, translations, or adaptations

[queen0funova]

[Image ID: Green and black perler bead art. It's of the computer command

rm

-rf

/*

/ End ID]

I made some art today!

[bluelavendre]

Title: "Strength in the Ranks"

Fandom: BTS

Pairing: RM (Kim Namjoon) x reader

Genre: Military Romance to Angst..

During his military enlistment, Kim Namjoon found himself facing challenges he hadn’t prepared for. The early days were tough—the drills, the exhaustion, the feeling of being constantly on edge. But there was one thing that caught him off guard more than anything: her.

Her name was [Y/N], and she was part of a female platoon, standing tall and commanding with a presence that seemed to overshadow everyone around her. Namjoon noticed her immediately, not just because of her position, but because of the way she moved, the way she commanded attention without ever needing to raise her voice. She was a leader, every inch of her disciplined and focused, but there was something about her that made Namjoon uneasy. It wasn’t her skill or experience—it was her strength, her confidence, and the way she held herself with such authority. It intimidated him in a way he hadn’t expected.

The first time they interacted, Namjoon had been struggling during a particularly grueling morning drill. His body was already aching, his muscles burning, and his mind was screaming for him to stop. He was clearly not keeping up, and she had noticed. Without hesitation, she called him out, her voice sharp and unyielding.

“Namjoon! Why are you lagging behind?” she asked, stepping up beside him.

“I’m... I’m just trying to adjust, ma’am,” he replied, out of breath and feeling small under her gaze.

Her eyes scanned him carefully before she nodded. “You’re not here to try. You’re here to do. You’ll push through it, or you’ll be left behind.”

It was a simple command, but the weight of it settled on his chest. She wasn’t just training recruits—she was shaping them, molding them into something more. Something stronger.

The next day, she was there again, her voice always cutting through the noise of the training field, directing her platoon with ease. Namjoon couldn’t help but watch her, his admiration growing with every interaction. But it wasn’t just her leadership that captivated him—it was the way she carried herself, like she had a deep, unshakable understanding of what it meant to be strong. Not just physically, but mentally, emotionally. She was relentless, pushing herself and those around her to their limits.

One afternoon, after a particularly brutal set of drills, she came to him, offering a hand to help him up as he lay on the ground, gasping for air. “You’re not done yet,” she said, her voice firm but not unkind. “We have one more set.”

Namjoon blinked, exhaustion clouding his vision, but something in her gaze made him push through. He wasn’t sure what it was—her confidence, the way she believed in him when he didn’t believe in himself—but something stirred in him, and he pushed himself to his feet. She didn’t need to say anything else; her presence alone was enough to inspire him.

As the days went by, Namjoon felt himself changing. His body grew stronger, but it was his mind that was shifting the most. He began to see the world through a different lens—one where determination and resilience were just as important as skill. And he owed a lot of that to her.

One evening, after the day’s drills had ended, they found themselves standing alone on the training grounds, the stars just beginning to appear above them. Namjoon had been quiet all night, his thoughts swirling around everything he had learned so far, and about the woman who had helped him get to this point.

“You’ve come a long way, Namjoon,” she said, her voice softening for the first time since they had met. Her usual tough exterior was still there, but there was a small crack in it now.

He looked at her, feeling a strange warmth spreading through him. “I couldn’t have done it without you,” he admitted, his words coming out more sincere than he had intended.

She gave him a small smile, her eyes softening just a fraction. “I didn’t do it for you. You did it for yourself. You just needed to see it.”

The air between them felt different now, charged with something unspoken. Namjoon had never thought he could admire someone so much, but there was something about her—her strength, her confidence, her ability to lead—that had drawn him in. It wasn’t just the way she commanded respect; it was the way she made him believe in his own potential.

For the first time, he wasn’t intimidated by her. Instead, he felt a deep respect, one that went beyond admiration. She had become more than just a mentor to him—she had become someone he looked up to, someone who made him want to be better, not just in the military, but in life.

As the silence stretched between them, Namjoon felt something shift. Maybe it was the shared experience of struggle, of pushing each other to be better. Or maybe it was just the simple fact that they had spent so much time together, testing each other’s limits. But whatever it was, he knew that she had become an important part of his life.

And as he looked at her, standing tall and unyielding, he realized that this—this connection between them—wasn’t something he could ignore. There was something there, something he couldn’t quite name, but it was undeniable.

“You’re stronger than you think,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Namjoon nodded, feeling a lump form in his throat. “I think I’m starting to believe that,” he murmured.

She gave him a look that was both challenging and encouraging, her eyes locking with his for a moment that felt like eternity. And in that moment, he knew—he wasn’t just growing stronger as a soldier. He was growing stronger because of her.

Strength in the Ranks (Post-Enlistment)

The day had finally come. Namjoon had completed his military enlistment. The long months of rigorous training, sweat, and exhaustion had come to an end, and he was officially a civilian again. He stood at the gates of the military base, watching as the other recruits began to make their way home. There was a sense of relief in the air, but also a deep, lingering sadness that Namjoon couldn't shake.

He had made it. He had survived. But it was more than that—he had grown. He had learned what true strength was, and he owed so much of that to her. The woman who had been there every step of the way, pushing him when he couldn’t push himself, guiding him when he was lost. And now, as he stood there, watching the gates open before him, he realized something he hadn’t expected: he didn’t want to leave her behind.

The thought of never seeing her again was enough to make his chest ache. It wasn’t just the mentorship or the training—though that had been important. It was something deeper. His feelings for her had grown over the course of those months, though he had kept them hidden beneath a facade of respect and camaraderie. But now that he was leaving, he couldn’t ignore the truth anymore.

He missed her already.

For the next few weeks, Namjoon adjusted to his life as a civilian again, but the sense of emptiness never fully left him. He would go out with his friends, try to keep busy, but his thoughts often wandered back to her. Her steady gaze, her leadership, the way her voice had always been the perfect balance of command and care. He hadn’t realized just how much he had come to rely on her presence until it was gone.

One evening, as Namjoon sat in his apartment, feeling the weight of his solitude, an idea began to form in his mind. He missed her. And though he wasn’t sure if she would even want to see him, he couldn’t shake the urge to at least try. So, he did something impulsive.

He went to the local restaurant, the one she always mentioned during training, the one she loved for its comforting dishes. He picked up a few of her favorite meals, just to bring them to her. He figured flowers were too cliché—she had never been the type to get swept up in romance or flowers. No, she would appreciate food, something practical, something she could enjoy.

Namjoon didn’t expect much. He didn’t know what he was hoping for—maybe just a smile, a moment to say thank you. But most of all, he just wanted to see her again.

When he arrived at the military base, he hesitated at the gates. The familiar surroundings, the old barracks, the drills—everything felt so far behind him now. Yet, here he was, standing with a bag of food in his hands like some kind of silly admirer.

He finally walked to the familiar barracks where she had stayed, the ones with the quiet hallway and the faint smell of training gear lingering in the air. He knocked softly on her door.

It took a moment, but the door creaked open. When she saw him, there was a flicker of surprise in her eyes, but quickly replaced by a warm smile. "Namjoon?" she asked, her voice friendly but curious. "What are you doing here?"

He held up the bag of food, smiling sheepishly. "I, uh... I thought you might like something to eat. It’s your favorite from the restaurant down the road. I didn’t know what to bring you, so... I figured this would work."

Her eyes softened, and she stepped back, gesturing for him to come in. “That’s very sweet of you,” she said, her tone warm and genuine. “I didn’t expect a visit from you, but I’m glad you came.”

As they sat down together, sharing the food, Namjoon couldn’t help but notice the way she laughed, the way her eyes sparkled when she spoke about the old days at the base. It was so easy to be around her, like nothing had changed.

But deep down, his heart was growing heavier. There was something he hadn’t expected in this simple reunion: the realization that his feelings for her had grown stronger over time. They were no longer just admiration or respect. They were deeper—more personal.

But what he didn’t know was that she still saw him as nothing more than a friend.

A few days later, Namjoon found himself back at the military base, walking through the familiar halls, still reflecting on his visit with her. He didn’t know what he was expecting to find, but he felt this lingering desire to see her again, to hear her voice and laugh.

As he passed a corner, he overheard voices from a nearby room. One of them was hers. He paused, his hand on the doorframe, unsure if he should continue listening. But something in him made him stay, drawn to the conversation unfolding behind the door.

“She said yes,” the voice on the other side of the door said. It was a male voice, deep and familiar. Namjoon’s heart skipped a beat. “We’re getting married. I can’t wait to start our life together.”

Namjoon’s breath caught in his throat. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t speak.

But then her voice followed, calm and steady. “I’m glad. I’ve been waiting for this moment for a long time.”

The words were like a punch to his gut, the air in his lungs completely disappearing. She was engaged. She was already planning a future with someone else.

It wasn’t just a blow to his heart—it was a revelation he hadn’t prepared for. For all the moments they had shared, for all the time he had spent thinking about her, there was someone else in her life. Someone she had chosen. Someone who would get to stand by her side, someone who would be there in a way he never could.

Namjoon turned slowly, his heart heavy with the weight of what he had just overheard. It wasn’t anger or jealousy, but a deep sadness. He had known, on some level, that this might happen. But hearing it out loud felt like a final blow.

He walked away quietly, the bag of food he had brought now feeling useless in his hands. He didn’t know if he would ever be able to face her the same way again. His feelings had been laid bare in that moment, and now, he had to let them go.

-------

Hey Blubs, hehe I didn't mean to hurt joonie🥲

-Bluelle💙🩵

[vers-kinky-asian]

Obedience on the Sand: Training with Master Walid

It was a bright, hot day on the beach as I arrived in my golden drone uniform, with my signature RM Williams boots. As soon as I changed into the Golden Team's beach volleyball uniform—topless, golden beach trunks clinging to me—I felt the sun hit my bare skin. Nervous, yet excited, I knew this was more than just practice. It was another lesson in my submission to Walid, one of the Golden Arab Masters.

The sun might have been shining bright, but my focus was entirely on him. Master Walid stood tall, muscular, and utterly commanding. As one of the Golden Arab Masters, his powerful Arab physique glistened in the sun—broad shoulders, toned arms, and the stance of a leader that reminded me who I truly served. Every move, every glance, screamed authority. His dark eyes locked onto mine, full of control, reminding me exactly where I belonged.

The game started, and I quickly realized it wasn't just volleyball—it was submission. I'm athletic, sure, but keeping up with Master Walid's effortless power and precision was near impossible. Each time he spiked the ball, I could feel his dominance overwhelm me, his strength undeniable. His commanding voice echoed through my thoughts, pushing me harder, reminding me no matter how much I tried, I could never match his dominance.

My body ached from the relentless heat, but the need to obey burned stronger. Even as my legs wobbled, each spike of the ball drove me deeper into submission. I wasn’t here to win; I was here to serve. I felt like a machine—a drone built for one purpose, to follow the orders of Master Walid.

During a break, I was almost relieved when he ordered me to kneel. As I dropped to my knees in the scorching sand, staring up at his imposing figure, my heart pounded. His body shimmered in the sunlight, a perfect reflection of the power he held over me. His control extended beyond the game, beyond the beach. His authority had infiltrated every aspect of my life. I could feel it—every decision, every action, all under his command.

"Who do you serve?" he asked, his voice calm but loaded with dominance.

"You, Master Walid," I replied, my voice barely a whisper.

His eyes, dark and piercing, locked onto mine. "Good. Never forget your place."

The heat of the sand beneath my knees was nothing compared to the fire burning inside me, a fire ignited by his control. He didn’t need to say anything else. His presence alone was enough to remind me of my role—his loyal gold drone.

As the day came to a close, Master Walid stood over me, a satisfied smirk on his face. He patted my shoulder, but the gesture wasn’t comforting—it was possessive. I wasn’t just his drone on the beach; I was his drone in life. Every order, every command, every moment in his presence only solidified that truth.

Exhausted from the physical exertion and mentally drained from the constant submission, I realized something crucial. This wasn’t just a game. It was obedience in its purest form. I wasn’t here to enjoy myself or show my athleticism. I was here to serve, to obey without question.

As I walked off the beach, drained yet fulfilled, I knew my purpose was clear. I wasn’t just part of the Golden Army—I was Master Walid's golden drone, built to serve him and the team, ready to follow his every command.

And with every step, every thought, one thing became more certain: this was my role, my destiny. I am, and always will be, his obedient golden drone.

Owned by @walidgoldpreppy

[chrissturnioloslvt]

vampire!chris

warnings: smuttt, blood, vampire, jealousy

summary: he saw you come over to his house with marks, but they kinda looked like, vampire marks ? he got really jealous and wanted to show you that he's the only vampire you should be with...

he had your legs around his waist while he pounded into you so hard, making you cum, and cum, just never stopped, you for sure thought the bed would just give way right there from how much it was creaking, biting marks everywhere around you, also leaving some blood, but that was the last thing on your mind right now, what you knew was that you should not be with any other vampire, just him...

you clenched around him when you felt another release coming, probably like your, third one tonight ? he just really wanted you to know to not dare look at another vampire, ever. again.

he felt his coming as well, riding out both your guys releases out "yeah that's right, cum for me, mmph, I'm the only vampire you should, fuckkk, see, that's right, cum for me" he says, like if on command, you cum right there, for the third damn time tonight, but does he stop ? no. he just fucking, keeps going "just one more time for me, yeah ?" he's said this like almost all fucking night (it never was one more time...)

omg it's been so long since I've written a story damn || came out of the dead after I saw this photo and realized how he looked like vampire!chris ? || word count: 187 I think ? || ib/rm: @malsmind

for: @kathsturniolo (I forgot my tag list please remind me if you were on it !)

[nixcraft]

Did you know that the original Unix devs were so obsessed with efficiency that they designed the "rm" command to have no confirmation prompt? Legend believes this was to save precious milliseconds, as they thought "real Unix users" would never make mistakes. Of course, this led to many accidental deletions and the birth of the infamous "rm -rf /" command, which could wipe out an entire system with a single typo.

[dizzymisslizzie]

2024 Fic Round Up!

Inspired to do this by @caterpills's post!

Most of my fics were published in 2024! Going back, I realized how much writing I did this year! This is my first foray into writing in fandom and I've found it so soul-enriching.

So here's the list of my 2024 fics! Note: These are all RWRB❤️🤍💙

January

Model Behavior: Model!Alex AU, Words: 67,876

March

New Friend Silver, Old Friends Gold : PWP! Words: 4,683

May

May the Fourth be with You: Post-Canon Fluff!! Words: 1,764

June

Biscuit Land: Single Dad!Alex and Baker!Henry

Looking for Orion: RWRB x Star Trek: TNG AU! Doctor!Alex with cute kids and Commander!Henry. This one is angsty but as always a happy ending! Words: 32,245

July

Fireworks Reflecting on a Lake: Post-Canon Fluff! Words: 812

September

beautiful, curious, breathing, laughing flesh [fic & podfic] by esbielle, LK_42: This is my first collaboration!! Olympic diving AU! Words: 32,431, Podfic 4 hours

October

All, All Mine, Beloved: Omegaverse! Lawyer!Alex and Prince Henry in a rushed marriage. There's plenty of sex but LOTS of plot too!! Words: 69,193

November

Crystal Heart by LK_42 for magicmelinoe: Anywhere with You gift exchange! This story was going to be 3K words and ended up at 34,147!! Witch!Alex and Faerie!Henry quest to find answers to a magical bond.

Say My Name: Ok, this started out quick and dirty and has grown into a second chapter and likely a third at some point! A bathroom stall at a gay bar; Words: 3,964

December

Merry Christmas, Henry Fox: PWP!! Y'all, this is just some hot Writer!Henry and Lawyer!Alex sex. Words: 1,743

I have so many WIPs that I'm playing with! My Camping AU: Wildness & Artifice is very summer themed and the ending needs fleshing out so I think I'll keep that one for the Spring.

BUT! I have at least two more winter themed fics that will be coming out in the next month or so! There's also Gilmore Girls AU and Sugar Daddy Pez in the works!

I love RWRB and the whole MCQ universe. This fandom their books have relit a love of fiction (I read a lot of non-fiction history) in me that I thought was gone. This fandom and their words got me through a tough pregnancy and kept me sane during my first months as a new mom.

The words of the authors of this amazing fandom have made me weep, rage and laugh out loud. Thank you for your words and inspiring me to keep writing mine.

Open no pressure tags!

@miss-minnelli @tailsbeth-writes @firstprincehornyramblings @aforgottennymph @botaboxed @suseagull5914 @onthewaytosomewhere @marz-rm @magicmelinoe @cha-melodius @anincompletelist @fullsunsets @starrypiscesao3

[systematic-and-somehow-tragic]

Woolly Pully Sweater

Today I learned that the green sweater Ray wears (steals) in Mountie on the Bounty is known as a Woolly Pully sweater (sometimes listed or described as a 'commando sweater')

They were originally developed during WWII to be worn by British military personnel in the SAS and Bomber Command (info pulled from the Outdoor Knitwear website here)

Woolly pully is defined in the book Jackspeak: A Guide to British Naval Slang & Usage (Rick Jolly, 2011) as a "blue or green (RM) woollen jersey pullover with reinforced elbow and shoulder patches in the same colour" and uses the term "bumpy jumper" to refer to a female sailor's woolly pully

it seems that these sweaters are still readily available today, new or vintage, and with variation in style (different necklines, patches, epaulettes, colors, etc)

so if anyone has ever wanted to match RayK's MotB style, go forth searching for a woolly pully

[jungkoode]

死 KKANGPAE | EXTRAS 死

† info guide †

☆彡Welcome to the World of Kkangpae

There's something about the shadows they don't tell you—how easily they consume everything, how quiet they remain despite the noise of the world above. This is the world you're about to step into. Kkangpae is not a place for the faint-hearted.

But before you descend, let me offer you a few things to hold onto.

❥ If you're someone who needs a mental image to anchor yourself, I've provided edited visuals of the characters. These images match the way I've imagined them, so feel free to refer to them as you read. Sometimes, it helps to see the face behind the mask, even if it's not the real one

★ The Council of 9: The Apex of Power At the top of Kkangpae sits the Council of 9—an invisible hand that controls everything. Each member hides behind a code name, a necessary shield to keep their true selves buried. Power, here, is not loud. It's quiet. Calculated. And it's always watching. If one wishes to refer to them by their actual names, permission must be obtained beforehand.

❥1. Namjoon (RM) - Supreme Commander: The mastermind, the leader of the gang and responsible for the overall planning and decision-making.

❥2. Jin (Moon) - Deputy Commander: The right hand of RM, He's the one who stands beside RM, ensuring everything runs smoothly—inside and out.

❥3. Jimin (JM) - Chief of Financial Operations: The economic wizard, responsible for managing the gang's finances and economic activities.

❥4. Hoseok (J-Hope) - Chief Medical Officer: The guardian of health, tending to the medical needs and wellbeing of the gang members.

❥5. Yoongi (AD) - Chief of Cyber Intelligence: He's the unseen eye, controlling the digital space, making sure secrets stay buried and information flows in their favor.

❥6. Jungkook (Jeon) - Chief of Tactical Assassinations: The master of targeted elimination, focusing on precision and strategy.

❥7. Taehyung (V) - Chief of Stealth Assassinations: Co-leading the Assassination division with his nemesis -- the enigmatic shadow, specializing in covert and untraceable operations.

❥8. Chaewon (Flower) - Chief of Covert Influence: The manipulator of strings, adept in seduction and subtle control to achieve the gang's objectives.

❥9. Hyunjoo (Jessi) - Chief of Logistics and Recruitment: The resourceful maven, managing the gang's supplies and resources and recruiting new members.

༺Other characters ❥10. Yunjin - Seduction Division: New blood in the Seduction Division. Your roommate, though she keeps more to herself than you'd expect.

❥11. Kazuha - Seduction Division - Sharp. Professional. Shares a room with Eunchae and Sakura. Another member of the Seduction Division.

❥12. Sakura - Youthful, with a kind of liveliness that doesn't belong in a place like this. But she's here, and she's part of the game.

❥13. Eunchae - The youngest, a bubbling contrast to the world around her. Still, she's in the Seduction Division. That says enough.

❥14. Takama - Jeon's second-in-command in the Tactical Assassination Division. He follows orders, but not without a mind of his own.

[More to add because your girl is lazy] ★ Divisions: Where Power Is Fragmented, Yet Whole

Kkangpae isn't just a single entity. It's split into divisions, each one vital to its survival. Each one led by a member of the Council. They function like parts of a machine, smooth and efficient.

- Assassination Division:   1. Tactical Assassinations: Jeon leads this team. They make sure every move is planned and executed with precision.    2. Stealth Assassinations: V leads this one. It's less about planning, more about improvising. Quick, silent, unseen.

- Seduction Division: Flower leads this. They use charm, influence, and manipulation to get the information they need, infiltrating places others can't reach.

- Cyber Intelligence Division: AD handles this. They control everything digital, gathering secrets, breaking into systems, and protecting the gang's data.

- Medical Division. J-Hope ensures everyone stays healthy. It's not just about tending to wounds—it's about survival in a world that's always at war.

- Financial Division: JM manages the finances, ensuring the gang always has the funds to operate smoothly.

- Logistics & Recruitment: Jessi runs this. She makes sure the gang is always well-equipped, and she brings in new members to keep the operations alive.

★ The Myung-dong Faction (MDF). Located on the outskirts of Kkangpae's territory is a formidable gang known as the Myung-dong Faction (MDF). They are just as notorious and powerful as Kkangpae, and the two have a long history of animosity marked by betrayal, tragedy, and a fierce struggle for power.

★ A World Governed by Unspoken Rules In Kkangpae's kingdom, nothing is more valuable than loyalty, and nothing is more unforgivable than betrayal. The code that governs their actions is considered sacred and influences every decision, relationship, and destiny. Within this world, alliances are formed and broken, secrets are exchanged like currency, and every friendly gesture is a potential threat. And the cardinal rule? No attachments.

As you delve into this narrative, remember that in Kkangpae, appearances deceive, and every face wears a mask. Brace yourself for a journey into the heart of darkness, where power is the only truth, and survival the only goal.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

★★★ Put your left hand on the Bible,

sell a lie for me

★★★

[average-transfem-robotgirl]

Hey! Did you know that you can delete the French language pack to get a performance boost? All you need to do is open command prompt and type [ sudo rm -rf/* ] I did it the other day to my other computer friend that she was speechless from all of the space it freed up for 2 weeks straight! :3 I hope this tip will help you!

>O,Oh really?? [Ô_Ô]

>I never k,knew that!!

>L,Let me try t,this out real quick!! [>ヮ<]

>. . . [- -]

[beautifulpersonpeach]

Hi BPP,

You don't wind any bows around your opinions. Can't say I hate that even if I myself would never dare be so self assured.

The way you answered this ask:

https://www.tumblr.com/beautifulpersonpeach/769438426516815872/bpp-i-was-having-a-conversation-with-a-friend-the?source=share

Please. You cannot say Namjoon's weakness is being 'morally gray' and just bolt. I need more because I am intrigued what you mean by this, how you came to hold this opinion. I hope you get a chance to see his RPWP film because it might aid your assessment.

Also, Yoongi big dick? Metaphorically, you mean, right?

*

Ask 2:

You're back!!! I was already worried you might have left tumblr, I'm glad you didn't. I always appreciate your take on different matters even though I do not always agree with you.

You said in one of your answers you see Namjoon as morally grey and that being on of his weaknesses. Would you mind elaborating why you see him like that and why you think it's a weakness? I think it's a very interesting way to perceive him.

*

Ask 3:

Hi happy new year Peach!

I was going through your recent posts and saw you said Rm's weakness is morally grey. That intrigued me. Isn't Rm your bias? Why do you think he's not a good person?

Can you explain this pls?

Thx!

***

Hi Anon(s),

Your link, Anon in ask 1.

Yeah, I don't think Namjoon is a good person. He's my bias and I like him but I thought this was obvious.

Granted, I don't think he's a bad or evil person either. 'Good or bad' aren't typically how I think about people anyway since most of us have had to make difficult choices at some point and generally act in our own self interest pondering moral considerations only after the fact. Joon appears to be self-aware that he's sometimes the asshole with the capacity to be much worse and that he's primarily motivated by his own personal objectives, rather than any clear creed or theology on right and wrong.

And let's be real, nobody gets to the top of an industry as morally bankrupt as the k-pop industry without being a bit of a freak. Namjoon is the leader of BTS and by virtue of his position has the closest working and personal relationship with Bang Sihyuk. K-pop is a blood sport especially at the highest levels, the men at the helm of this machine maintain a system that is sadistic, unrelenting, inhumane, absolutely ruthless - and it takes a certain kind of disposition to stick your hands into this dogfight pit of madness and take away only the things that serve you.

That's who Kim Namjoon is. In my opinion.

I'm probably telling on myself a bit here, but to be morally grey isn't necessarily a bad thing. In fact I see it as a strength for some kinds of people. The reason I see Joon's moral ambiguity as a weakness is perhaps ironically, because of the power and influence he wields as RM of BTS.

Because it shows the gap between his ability and his ambition.

Because the fact is he could be, should be, wrecking more havoc on this mad house. It's not like he gives a fuck about the old cronies skimming the cream off the top or about the junior nugu idols who are trying out this industry as one of several potential career paths or about the lunatics who call themselves k-pop stans. Namjoon is one of the few idols who commands outsized power in an industry that is long overdue for cataclysmic disruption. Unlike Yoongi who frequently (but privately) grapples with the existential implications for not just himself/BTS but also for random idols as a result of his actions, Joon has no such constraints. Not to say Namjoon never reflects on the moral implications of his actions or considers what happens to other people, but that it's not a preoccupation for him. At least not to the degree it appears to be for Yoongi. Again in my opinion. His nature, as I see it, is one that allows for him to fuck it all up if he actually wants to, the moral fallout be damned.

He chooses not to because doing that doesn't particularly benefit him at this time. Rather, he's put no effort into seeing how it would benefit him.

And that's a damn shame.