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07 | Legends of Darlaria

⨰ summary: You wake up amidst a war with no recollection of your past. Faced with suspicion and distrust, you struggle to assimilate into a foreign nation—otherwise known as your home. But on your enlightening journey to search for your identity, you come face to face with the General of the Army.

⨰ pairing/rating: yoongi x reader & jungkook x reader | PG-15

⨰ genre: 70% angst, 30% fluff | war!au & magic!au

⨰ warnings: profanity, death of minor characters, very brief mention of suicide

⨰ wordcount: 6.7k

⨰ join the taglist! (pm/send in an ask/reply/reblog)

⨰ a/n: your support and help means so much to me @the-berry-named-ari! thank you for beta-reading once again <3

⨰ previous | series m.list | next

⧖⧗Circa Garnet⧗⧖

It’s a new year.

A fresh start, a novel beginning, the end of the truce and the commencement of battles.

For the most part, things haven’t changed. The tasks are the same—tending to the wounded, participating in officer meetings, creating battle plans… But if something did change, you can confidently say that it was you.

Maybe it was your first extended conversation with the General. You’ve spent so much time with him, yet it has never felt like you really got to know him. That night, you learned that you and the General have more in common than you thought. But knowing more about the General also opened up more doors of mystery. Why does he have nothing to lose as you do? What past has shaped him to want to fight for Solaria’s freedom? Why does he not believe in love and war? And why won’t he tell you why he thinks you’re peculiar?

Or maybe it was meeting the fire tiger. You’ve never felt so safe, so secure, so warm at the same time. You’re not sure what brought the sol to find you, but you thank the spirits that it had happened.

And besides, it doesn’t really matter whether the reason was the General or the tiger; something that night had prompted you to feel like you were reborn. And now, for the first time, you feel like you.

“Y/N!!!” Hana shrieks, running toward you at breakneck speed. She takes you in a bear hug, jumping up and down while attempting to spin you in circles. “I got back two weeks ago! How come I haven’t seen you until now?? I missed you so much! I had the time of my life back home, but for Sori’s sake, I couldn’t stop thinking about my duties back here! I was so glad to be back! And now to meet my friend!”

You laugh, bringing your arms around to brace her. “Did you eat all the bread you wanted to back home?”

“You know I did! Father made his homemade special holiday acorn bread, which I ate for nine days straight!” Hana sings. “I set aside some to save for you, but my siblings decided to surprise me with an empty platter the night before I left,” she sighs, shaking her head. “They send you their formal apologies. Oh! And did I tell you? I have a boyfriend now,” she says, dreamily. “He says he’s going to wait for me until I get to go home again. Isn’t it amazing?” she sighs happily. “I think I’m in love.”

“In love?” you ask, eyes wide. “Flaming hell, Hana! I’m so happy for you! Tell me everything! Who confessed first?”

“Of course I did!” Hana snorts. “He was too shy. Maybe it’s ‘cause I’ve known him since we were both three. I might have gotten a little drunk, though, before the confession, that is. Either way, it was perfect, Y/N. I didn’t know it was possible to feel this happy. He’s an earth medium, you know, and he made me the prettiest garden of flowers right outside my windowsill! Roses and tulips and carnations!”

You smile. “I’m really happy for you. It sounds so romantic, Hana.”

“Oh, it was,” she grins. “We’re gonna send each other love letters every circa. I was actually going to send you a letter, Y/N!” Hana laughs. “But then I realized I’d come back here before you would even get that message.” She giggles. “But enough about me. What did you do during the break?”

“Oh, me?” you ask, a little taken off guard. “Not much,” you reply with a smile. “I guess I’ve been cranking out battle plans, if that counts as relaxation.”

Hana gives you a horrified look. “My sweet Y/N, you’ve lost your marbles.”

You laugh. “Don’t worry. I had the General to keep me company.”

“The General??” Hana gasps. “His idea of relaxation is work, Y/N! No wonder all you did was crank out battle plans! You’re in need of a vacation!”

You shake your head, grinning. “Hana, what would I even do? Besides, I can’t just abandon my duties!”

“You’ve been working so hard that I’m pretty sure you don’t even have duties left to take care of,” Hana pouts. “Why don’t you take some time off for yourself?”

“Take time off for myself?” you ask, laughing. “I really can’t, Hana.”

“Hmph!” she sighs. “You’re going to burn yourself out at that rate, Officer. Don’t think I don’t notice the dark circles under your eyes! You haven’t been getting much sleep. If you don’t rest, sooner or later, you’re going to crash and burn!” She grins, sweeping in a low bow. “But that’s all the convincing I can afford today, my good friend! I’ve gotta go train. See you later, Officer!”

“O-Oh! Yeah, see you later!” you call out to your friend, who waves while continuing to jog away. You wave back, but your other hand gently traces under your eye. You didn’t know your body had left evidence of your many sleepless nights.

Take some time off for yourself.

But that’s what you’ve been doing. You’ve kept yourself busy, trying to make sense of the monocode and reviewing battle plans that you want to share as soon as possible. It’s a new circa now, which means the Darlaeans have already made new formations for their new line of code. And it’s up to you to crack it.

You know Hana means differently when she tells you to take time off for yourself, but what is there to do other than work for the army? Besides, this is a war for fuck’s sake. And you’re an officer. So you shake your head, making your way inside the medical tent to see what Joon’s been up to.

“Oh dear,” Namjoon says when he first catches a glimpse of you. He carefully stirs a giant pot filled to the brim with warm Incha and gives you a worried look. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Joon, I’m not sick, I promise,” you say with a laugh. “I was just wondering if you need some help around here?”

Namjoon sighs, stopping his stirring to turn to you. “Y/N, you’re an officer now. It’s kind of you to offer to help all the time, but you don’t have to come to this tent to work anymore. You have your other duties. Oh, dear… It looks like you’re overworking yourself. Didn’t we sign off a temporary truce with the Darlaeans over the brunt of winter? You haven’t gotten any rest at all, dear. You look very tired.”

“I’m not tired at all, Joon,” you say, shaking your head. “I’ve just about finished all my officer duties, so I thought you could use a helping hand. I would be training too, if I was a fire medium, but I haven’t quite learned the works of that yet.”

But Namjoon is firm. “Y/N, you look like you’re seconds away from burning out.”

“I can last a few more circas like this,” you say. “Maybe an eternity,” you smile, though it feels a little heavy on your lips. “I feel okay, Joon, I swear.”

“You can barely keep your eyes open.”

“I feel so awake!”

“When did you last sleep?”

“Well, I… I don’t know.” For some strange reason, your eyelids have gone heavy. And oddly, it’s getting harder and harder to blink. “Maybe two days ago? I’m not so sure.”

Namjoon reaches forward, gently placing the back of his hand onto your forehead. “No fever… You need sleep right away. When’s the last time you’ve eaten?”

“Also can’t remember…”

You’re feeling a little dizzy. There are strange, white blobs in your vision, and though Namjoon just checked your temperature, you feel cold all over.

“Y/N? Y/N?? Y/N…”

You can hear words, but you can’t quite comprehend them. Your head feels light—a little too light. There’s a loud thump!, and there’s a dull impact on your side. There are more words. They sound more urgent this time. But you can’t bring yourself to understand what they mean. And before you can have another thought, everything goes black.

“She seemed fine at the last officer meeting. I didn’t know she was overworking herself…”

“She hasn’t slept in two days, and her blood sugar levels are quite low… I don’t think she’s eaten for a few days, either. I nearly had a heart attack when her eyes rolled back and she just fell to the ground.”

“Flaming hell. This girl is trying to carry a nation on her back before she even takes care of herself.”

There’s a polite laugh. “Oh, dear. I don’t think she was taking a proper break. Has she always been… well, a workaholic? After she got promoted, we haven’t had much reason to see each other. I should’ve made sure we kept in touch. I’m her healer, for Sahn’s sake.”

“She’s hardworking. But I’ve never seen her overwork herself to this extent…”

Your eyes flutter open and you try to sit up immediately, but strong hands push you down. “I’m fine! I’m fine!” you protest.

But the Lieutenant General snorts, shaking your head. “Y/N, you fainted.”

“I did??”

When you look around, you see that you’re in a cot, covered with a blanket and a cup of warm Incha waiting for you in Joon’s hands. Without much protest, you take the tea and sip on it. It makes you feel just a little bit better.

“Namjoon here tells me that you’ve been overworking yourself for whatever reason,” Doyun sighs. “You’re already doing so much. Creating battle plans is not easy, Y/N. Though the way you whip them up, it doesn’t seem like it. But a normal plan takes us weeks to create, Y/N. Maybe circas. Trust me. You’re allowed to take your time.”

You fidget with the cup. “I feel like I need to fill in the gaps, Doyun.”

It’s the partial truth. Of course there’s a real reason hidden in your mind somewhere. Something that you don’t necessarily feel the need to reveal in such a casual conversation.

“The gaps?” she asks, raising her eyebrows.

“I’m an officer, but I don’t know how to fight.”

Doyun’s eyes soften. “Oh, Y/N. You’ve lost your memory. It’ll come back to you eventually.”

Eventually. That could be in a thousand circas; decades, even. There isn’t enough time to wait. And besides, do you even want your memories to come back now? Still, the last thing you want is for Doyun to worry.

“I guess it will,” you say with a weak smile. “I’m sorry. I should’ve taken care of myself better. I apologize for making you worry.”

Joon shakes his head. “It’s fine, dear. I’m just glad I could have helped. But do take care of yourself. I didn’t fix your broken ribs and head injuries for you to falter from malnourishment and sleep deprivation.”

You smile, nodding. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“We don’t have an officer meeting for a few days,” Doyun says. “From now to then, you’re forbidden to do any work. Just rest. Trust me. You’ve already done so much for us. We can’t risk losing our Battle Plan Coordinator, can we?” You’re about to open your mouth to argue when you hear a new voice in the tent.

“That’s an order, Officer.”

It’s quite the familiar voice.

As expected, when you look up, you see the General. He’s got his hands laced together behind his back, an amused look painted on his face. “When you said you wanted to fight for the end of the war,” he drawls out, “I didn’t know you were trying to fight for your end as well.”

You scoff. “Sir, I only fainted.”

“And fell nearly face-forward,” Namjoon adds to your dismay.

“Maybe if you’d hit your head on the ground, Officer, you would’ve lost all of your memories. Again,” the General says. “We wouldn’t want that, would we?”

“Yoongi’s right,” Doyun says. “You could’ve gotten seriously hurt!”

“But I’m fine!” you say. “I really am.”

The General lets out an exasperated sigh at your protest. “If you wouldn’t mind, Doyun, Joon, I’d love to speak to our officer alone.”

“Oh, of course!” Namjoon says. “Drink all of that tea, dear. And if you need more, you know where to find me.”

“I’m expecting you to rest, Y/N. General says it’s an order,” Doyun says, crossing her arms over her chest to emphasize her point.

You nod at both of their words. And once the healer and the Lieutenant are gone, the General speaks without a second to waste:

“Was it something I said?”

You blink. “Sorry?”

“Was it something I said, Officer?”

“I’m not sure I follow…”

“You’re overworking yourself to the brink—no—to actual collapse. It seems to have started shortly after our conversation that night near the woods, Officer. So I must ask: was it something I said?”

Your eyes widen. “Oh, no! No, sir. It wasn’t what you said.”

“Was it the meeting with the fire sol?”

“Heli?”

“Heli?” he repeats, raising his eyebrows.

“O-Oh.” Your face heats up in embarrassment. “I know I’m not supposed to name the animal spirits, but I’ve been meeting him every night, and I just couldn’t help but name him. I hope that doesn’t go against a rule book somewhere. He answers when I call him, though. But oh, for Sooht’s sake! It wasn’t because I met Heli, either. Or maybe it was… I don’t know, sir. It was everything.”

“Everything?”

Flaming hell. With the General’s simple persistence, you’re going to have to dig up what you’d buried away in your thoughts.

“I had an epiphany that night,” you admit. “And maybe it was because of my conversation with you. Or maybe it was because I met Heli. It could’ve been both, too. I don’t know, sir. But I just remember being fed up being tied to my past life. I wanted to break free from the ropes. I just wanted to let go.”

“So you let go, Officer?”

“Yes, sir. I’ve decided that this is who I am now. I don’t care what I did in the past.”

“Well, congratulations, I suppose,” the General says with a quirk of his brow. “But I’m failing to understand how this makes you overwork yourself, Officer.”

“I don’t know if I made the right choice,” you blurt out. “I don’t know anything about my previous life. Is it really right for me to cast it away? What if I had people I loved? What if I made promises that I can’t remember? What if they’re waiting for me to come back but I never do? I’m scared, sir. And see? I’m doing it again.”

His voice is soft when he asks, “What are you doing?”

“Overthinking,” you sigh. “I didn’t want to overthink my choice. So I bit off more than I could chew. To distract myself from a spiral of horrible thoughts. But here I am, overthinking anyway.”

“I’m impressed that you were able to make such an executive decision, Officer,” the General says. His words ease just a bit of the tension from your shoulders. “You needn’t beat yourself up about it. This is who you are.”

“I suppose it is.”

“And truth be told, Officer, I like that you overthink.”

Your eyes widen. “You do, sir?”

“How else could you create battle plans so naturally?” he says with a gentle smile. “It’s just a part of you. No need to punish yourself for it.”

“Sir, but do you really expect me to sit around and do nothing until the next officer meeting?”

“No.” He smiles. “But still try to take time off for yourself.”

“Believe it or not, that’s not the first time I’ve heard that,” you sigh.

“I believe it,” the General replies. “But hearing that more than once is also a sign that you should take that advice. Take time off, overthink, ponder, ruminate. Do what you like. Maybe even go on a ride with Heli. I expect you to be well-rested by the officer meeting. I’m sure you have many great things to share.”

“I do, sir.”

“It’s settled, then.”

“It is.”

There’s a short, awkward silence. You sip your Incha and the General stares down at the dirt. After a while, you’re the first to speak.

“Sir?”

“Yes, Officer?”

“Do you happen to know anything about the number 19?”

He frowns. What an odd question. “Nothing comes to mind,” he replies. “Is that all?”

“Yes, that’s all, sir.”

He clears his throat, suddenly feeling a little dizzy. “Then… Then I will see you in two days’ time. Take care.”

He barely remembers what you had answered because he’s staggering out of the tent, a distant ringing in his ears. The walk to his own tent is a blur. When he finally collapses on his chair, his hands begin to cradle his head.

“S-Sh-She… She’s dead.”

“Quit pulling my leg, Yoongi. There are more serious matters to tend to.”

“Mother… Yoojin is dead.”

“She is only wounded. She is not dead.”

“You have to believe me, Mother.”

“It’s General Min to you, Yoongi. How many times do I have to tell you? Yoonsoo is always so good at showing his respect. You? Why must you disappoint me, son?”

“Mother!” He’d yelled, tears streaming down his face. “She set fire on herself. Yoojin did. She’s dead. She’s gone. Dead, Mother. She’s dead!”

“Shut your mouth!” his mother had roared. She’d stood up abruptly, knocking over the heavy desk. “No daughter of mine chooses a cowardly death in the medical tent!”

“She was hurting, Mother, please. You know how severe her injuries had been.”

“Who is going to be the General after I die?!” his mother had yelled. “It was supposed to be Yoojin! Coward!” she had yelled. “She didn’t want the responsibility!”

Yoongi’s mother had been horrified. She didn’t want to admit it, but she loved her daughter. She loved her children. Her form of denial had been rash, but her denial showed that she had cared.

And with the death of Yoojin, General Min began spiraling out of control. She wouldn’t sleep. Wouldn’t eat. And she expected her soldiers to do the same. Be so disciplined that they didn’t waste a single second of their lives doing anything else other than thinking, acting, breathing for the war.

Of course, this mania didn’t last.

Within circas, she knew what a monster she had become. A cycle that her youngest son would continue. But she didn’t know that.

Sensing the growing resentment of her soldiers toward her, General Min knew it would be better to die in battle than to resign. So she led a final, semi-victorious battle, sacrificing her life for her clan, her family and her army. She knew going into that battle that she wouldn’t come out alive.

That had been her form of an apology.

Her last letter to her sons had consisted of one sentence: I appoint Min Yoonsoo as the next General of the Solarian Army and Min Yoongi as his Lieutenant General.

And while dealing with the sudden deaths of his sister and his mother, Yoongi had also dealt with the humiliation. The sheer humiliation that his mother had skipped over him and given his younger brother the title of the General. It was heartbreak over heartbreak. A devastation that haunts him to this day.

He was only 19 years old.

“The General suggested I go on a ride with you.”

Heli huffs happily, stretching out his back as if to tell you he’s preparing for that very task.

“I’ve never been in the forest alone.”

Heli paws at the air.

“You’ll take me on a tour?”

Heli huffs, the fire in his eyes burning just a bit brighter. He nuzzles you, and you wrap yourself around his warmth. “Thank you,” you tell him. “I appreciate it.”

Within minutes, you see a blur of green and brown and white. You hold onto the blazing tiger, face nearly buried in his soft mane. Heli darts between the trees, weaving in and out amongst the frost-covered bushes. You pet his fur, hugging his figure and looking out to watch the beauty of the forest.

Alder’s woods are magical.

The trees are grand, towering over everything else. Their barks are etched with lines and shaded with contours so intricate that you’re convinced they could be the language of nature. Moss sprouts on the tree roots, painting the ground an emerald green. The morning dew drips off the smaller plants and falls delicately onto the forest floor that preserves the remnants of a cold winter.

Even during a wintry Circa Zircon, life seems to have survived. Some have flourished in the frigidity. You spy a couple of beautiful flowers, their petals a shade of vivid violet peeping out from under a patch of white snow. As the shy morning sunlight begins to stream in between the thick leaves of the trees, the life hidden in the forest becomes illuminated.

Your head rises a little as you catch a glimpse of a deer shimmering in the light. It’s completely transparent and resembles Zeru in its light steps and delicate grace. An air sol. Heli seems to sense its presence, his nose twitching as he tilts his head up. You smile, scratching behind his ear. “It’s an air deer.”

And there are many more sols after that.

You see a horse whose mane ripples like water, peacocks that spread their fiery feathers, a herd of elephants made of rich soil and blossoming flowers. You see a pack of water wolves with translucent skin that reflects the light of the sun. And you see a tiger made entirely of patches of well-trimmed grass, its stripes created by the various hues of green.

There is so much to watch.

But there is much more to listen to.

There is the whisper of the wind (and maybe from the air sols), the rustling of the leaves as the earth squirrels pounce on the branches, the spry chirps of the fire birds. You can’t quite listen but you can feel the trees murmuring amongst themselves.

If you were an earth medium, maybe you could speak the plants’ language or at least understand bits and pieces of their phrases. Or maybe they don’t speak in words at all. Maybe they communicate through signals and patterns and gestures that you’re too ignorant to comprehend.

There is so much to witness in Alder’s forest. So much movement. So much existence. So much life. And with the abundance of stimulation around you, you don’t have the time to overthink.

As Heli races through the forest with you perched on his back, you close your eyes. The wind hits your face, rustling your hair but gently kissing your cheeks. And the arms that you tightly wound around Heli, you begin to spread in the air. It feels like you’re flying. Like you’re one with the wind.

You feel free.

This has to be the rest that the General had wanted you to take.

There is an uncomfortable silence in the tent as everyone stares down at the table to the single word that you point at. When you’d first figured out the new Darlaean code, you knew it would warrant some kind of confusion amongst the officers. But you didn’t expect complete and utter silence.

In fact, you’re not sure the central tent has ever been silent for this long. It seems like everyone is at a loss for words. No one moves, either. Even Major Ki is frozen, her fingers holding onto her rings in silence. You stay frozen too, but your eyes sweep across the tent, surveying the countenances of your fellow officers. Captain Im stares at your writing, noticeably calculating something in her head. Captain Chu looks angry, his fists tight as he glares into the table. But then again, when does he not look angry?

Besides that, there are still a number of officers who have never spoken up in the meetings before. Among them is Captain Goe. With a round face and a rounder body, he always sports around a gourd filled with what you suspect is Takju. The middle-aged man is always present in the meetings, but you don’t think he’s really there. But today, for once, he looks alert, eyes wide as he tries to make sense of the information you’d brought to the table.

In fact, Captain Goe is the first one to move. Mumbling something under his breath, he pops open the cork on his gourd and takes a generous swig. Everyone looks his way.

“Excuse me,” he burps out, swiping his sleeve over his mouth. Next to him, you see Captain Bak grimace.

She’s easily one of the most attractive people in the tent. Her silky hair is always woven into a tight braid, bangs framing her full face perfectly. With her sharp eyes, thick lips and rather intimidating presence, she makes a charismatic captain as you imagine her second sector soldiers would say. But at this moment, her eyebrows are twisted and her lips are curved down in a rather irritated look.

“If you have something to say, Captain, you should say it,” Captain Goe says as he takes another swig of his drink.

Captain Bak scoffs in response. “If you’re going to bring liquor into the tent, at least bring enough to share.”

“Is that what you’re so peeved about, Wonmi?” Captain Goe snorts. “Here, then, have a sip, my dear.”

He’d obviously meant it as a joke, but to everyone’s surprise, Captain Bak snatches the gourd out of Captain Goe’s hand and takes a very, very long drink. When she finishes, she tosses the empty gourd back to a shocked Captain Goe and pats the corners of her mouth dry. She smiles. “Sharing isn’t so hard, is it, my dear?” With a short laugh, she turns to the rest of the officers with a grin on her face. “19, huh?” she says. “For Sooht’s sake, we should all drink to that! How is ‘nineteen’ possibly related to ‘jewel’ and ‘usurp?’”

“It’s not,” Captain Chu grumbles. “The Darlaeans are taunting us, and we’re falling right into their trap. Which wouldn’t be new news to me at all. Might give the rest of you a nasty fright, though.”

“I wanted a legitimate answer, Captain Chu,” Captain Bak says with an angelic smile on her lips. “Not your nonsense again.”

“You stay silent for circas in the meetings and now you decide to run your mouth?” Captain Chu says. “Is that the best you can come up with? Call my legitimate worries, nonsense?”

“I don’t like arguing with those who won’t listen,” Captain Bak retorts before turning her back on the man with the tiger tattoo. “But besides him, I wanted to ask you, Officer Ryu, if you had any theories? You’ve recognized the pattern first, so it’s only fair that we listen to your thoughts before others can taint it.” She smiles at you, and you find yourself sweating at the brow a little.

Now that’s a lot of pressure.

“The truth is, Captain,” you say, cheeks turning warm, “I’m not sure, either. The more I thought about it, the more I started thinking that maybe… maybe the words don’t have to be related?”

There’s a murmur around the tent as everyone tries to comprehend your words.

“I just find it hard to believe that they’ve sent an arbitrary number following two consecutive Darlaean-related words,” you say.

“That’s the thing,” Major Lee says. “19 doesn’t have to be an arbitrary number. Just like how it doesn’t have to relate to the other codes.”

“That gives us more to think about than ever,” Captain Bak hums. “So many theories…”

“Then could it be possible that ‘nineteen’ is a marker?” Captain Im pipes up. “That would explain how it isn’t arbitrary and remains unrelated to ‘jewel’ and ‘usurp.’”

“A marker?” Major Ki says. She drums her jeweled fingers on the table. “I like where you’re going, Captain.”

“A marker?” Major Ahn echoes. He rubs his stubble and hums, eyebrows furrowing. “You mean to say the codes following this ‘nineteen’ will be related to each other in their own way, while ‘jewel’ and ‘usurp’ share their own relations?”

“Yes, exactly,” Captain Im says. Her eyes sparkle as she begins to explain her theory. “I think there are 19 more codes left to go. So in total, by adding the three codes we already know, we should get 22 words. We don’t know what these codes might entail, but we’re barely 14 percent into the full message. I think we’ll need a bigger picture before we can say that this is just a Darlaean trap.”

“If ‘nineteen’ really is a marker, then there might be a possibility that it isn’t counted as a code,” Major Hyun says. “What if we have 17 more codes left to go and 19 words in total?”

“That’s a possibility, too,” Captain Im says. “But who’s to say there aren’t any more markers? And how do we know for sure if these markers count toward the overall total?”

“So we have no idea how many total codes there are,” Major Lee sighs. “Great.”

“It’s okay, Jeonwoo,” Major Jang says, patting his back. “This is a start.”

“I’m wondering if they will continue their pattern of two codes followed by a marker,” Major Ahn says. “It is too early to tell, however. There is a large chance that we’re not even on the right track.”

“You’d think after decoding the monocode message that we’d be able to understand it,” Major Lee snorts. “Turns out we have to decode plain words, now.” But one look from Major Jang and he changes his outlook. “But yeah, this is a good start. I guess we don’t have to be on the right track now. We can always find it later.”

“I concur,” the General finally speaks. He rests his hands on the table and surveys his officers with a satisfied look on his face. “That was enough discussion for today. We might not have found answers, but we’ve found clues. And in situations where we don’t know as much as we’d like to know, it is better to slowly piece the puzzle together ourselves, rather than to come to hasty conclusions.

“It has been a productive meeting,” the General says. “Now, I would like to—”

“Sir, I apologize for interrupting,” someone interrupts.

He’s an officer who most other officers would forget is in the tent. A fifth sector captain with a slim build and lofty stature, Captain Yang is quite the anxious man. He rarely talks in meetings and when he does, it’s to agree with whatever his major, Major Hyun, says. You’ve seen him sometimes, zoned out, biting his nails during meetings and looking worried even when there is good news to share.

“I-I just wanted to… I wanted to share a theory. Just one more,” Captain Yang says. “But it’s just… It’s so different from what we’ve been saying…”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Doyun says with an encouraging smile. “Whatever’s on your mind, you’re allowed to say it here. We’re all allowed to swim against the current. Because who knows? What if we turn around and swim along with you?”

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Captain Yang says, looking down at his feet. “It’s just a little…” He trails off to nip at his nails. You, in turn, begin to chew on your lip.

“I’d like to grab some dinner soon,” Captain Bak says, breaking the short silence. “And I’m sure Captain Goe here would like a refill of his Takju, too.”

Captain Goe gives her a mean look.

“I’m sorry,” Captain Yang apologizes again. “But… My theory… It’s about…” He looks terrified to say it.

“C’mon, then. Spit it out,” Captain Chu says. “Will you stop acting so damn scared all the time?” But one disapproving look from his girlfriend and he ducks his head, staring at his feet.

“I-It’s about the General,” Captain Yang finally admits.

“Me?” the General says, eyebrows raised. “How so?”

“The three codes so far have been directed towards you… sir,” Captain Yang says, bowing his head. “Jewel… I’m sorry for bringing it up, sir, but that’s how your father passed away—with a jewel stuck to his heart. T-They couldn’t get it out. And… And usurp, sir. It’s what our army threatened to do to your brother before… before he… before you took his position. And 19… You were just 19 when your mother and sister… Sir, they’re poking fun at you.”

“Oh?”

“I-It’s… I was… Sir, I was there when you became appointed as your brother’s lieutenant, sir,” Captain Yang says with a tremor to his voice. “I-I saw how… I saw how hard it was on you. That whole year… Those were horrible times. ‘Nineteen’ doesn’t have to be a marker. It could be an age. Sir, I think this message from the Darlaeans is to you. It might just be a direct threat against you, sir.”

The General pauses. And for a second, you see hurt flash before his eyes. But it’s gone in an instant. He quickly composes himself and speaks.

“That’s a fair theory, Captain. Thank you,” he says quietly.

“It does make sense,” Captain Ahn murmurs. “But my question is, what is their point? Why make an obvious threat to the General? One where they will inevitably sacrifice their own soldiers because we’ve figured out their pattern?”

“They’re planning something,” Major Ki says.

“And we don’t know what,” Captain Im says. “We don’t know, but we can guess. But I think their first move is to lower the General’s morale. Make him doubt himself. Make him suffer from his memories.”

“That’s real grand of them,” Major Lee snorts. “General, is your morale lowered?”

“No,” the General answers.

“It’ll take a lot to lower the General’s morale,” the Lieutenant says with a grin.

“Officer Ryu? Do you have anything to add on to this?” the General says. “You asked me if I knew anything about the number 19. Did you suspect what Captain Yang said?”

His words startle you out of your thoughts. “O-Oh, um—” But before you even get a chance to come up with an answer:

“Why are we always asking her opinion? Even when she clearly isn’t ready to talk,” Captain Chu says, pointing at you as if you weren’t looking straight in his direction. “She’s not even a fire medium. I still don’t get why we need her in this tent. She doesn’t do anything that Captain Im can’t do. We never needed a new officer. And especially not an officer who doesn’t know the first thing about fighting in a fucking war.”

“Let’s not use what she’s lost against her,” the General says. “I ask for her opinion because it matters, Captain Chu. It’s as simple as that.”

Not even a fire medium. You have to admit, that hurts a little. Doesn’t do anything that Captain Im couldn’t do. You chew on your lip. Never needed a new officer. But why are his words sort of true? In truth, your only job is to create battle plans, something you’re sure the other officers could do. You’re not out there in the war, fighting for your life and your soldiers’ lives. All you have to worry about is how cold it will be during nightfall. And during officer meetings, sure you talk, but you’re never the one coming up with new theories and ideas on the spot. How can you? You hate sharing things before you’ve had the time to finalize all the little details. You hate being incomplete.

Of course you have something to add. There’s a dark, muddled thought brewing at the back of your head, but you can’t share that now. You haven’t polished it yet, and if you share a premature thought, and a thought as serious as this one, you’ll cause more drama than you’d like.

But you suppose your fear of incompleteness is your weakness. There’s always something lacking in your presence in these officer meetings, and the others can see it.

“No,” you say. It comes out a little harsher than you’d wanted.

“Sorry?” the General asks.

“You asked if I had anything to add.”

“And your answer is no?”

Captain Chu scoffs. You’ve just proved his point. “Are we dismissed now? If there’s nothing more to say, we should all be able to leave. And Officer Ryu?”

You look up at him.

“Don’t take what I said personally. I’m just looking out for all of us.”

The General frowns and the Lieutenant is visibly irritated, but Major Ki steps in before either of them can react.

“Jaeno’s been mourning recently,” she says. “We all react to grief differently, don’t we? Although I can’t say being rude to your colleague is a healthy coping mechanism.” She turns to you. “I’m sorry, Y/N. He shouldn’t have attacked you like that. We all think you’re a valuable asset to our team. A catalyst, if you will. And General?”

“Hm?”

“Permission to be dismissed? I think I need to have a small talk with my boyfriend.”

“Permission granted,” he says, nodding to himself. “In fact, this meeting is over. The rest of you are dismissed. I hope that everyone in this tent remembers what we are here for. We can only win if we work together.”

“Captain Chu, I expect you to apologize to Officer Ryu sometime before the next meeting!” the Lieutenant calls as he and his girlfriend leave the tent. He grunts in response.

And as the officers begin to trickle out of the tent, you let out a large breath, almost unable to move from your position.

Not even a fire medium.

But he’s right. You aren’t.

Maybe it’s time to begin praying to the spirits?

No.

You’ll figure it out. You always do. Right?

Someone puts an arm around your shoulder. It’s Doyun.

“Hey. You all right? Don’t worry about Jaeno. There was a disease outbreak in Ara, and it looks like it’s affected his family.”

“He hates me.”

“He’s probably jealous,” Doyun says. “He was like this to Captain Im before you came along and took her spot as his new scapegoat. Nobody listens to him anyway.”

“A brilliant fighter,” the General adds. “But a not-so-great strategist. He’ll come around, though.”

“I’m sure he will,” Doyun says. “He’s stubborn and dense, but he’s not that dense. And I trust Suhyun to convince him.” She rubs your shoulder. “You brought change into our army, Y/N. There are some people who will always oppose it. Hell, I opposed it, too. At least in the beginning. But look at what change has brought us. Our biggest problem now is to figure out a stupid little riddle. We’re winning battles left and right, and if Jaeno doesn’t want to acknowledge that, then fine. But you have to know that you’re doing great work here.”

Her words make you feel so much better. “Thanks.”

“But I’m curious, Officer,” the General says, who actually looks a little confused. “Did you really have nothing to add?”

Doyun rolls her eyes. “Yoongi, her mind is always working at the speed of light, don’t you know? Of course, she had something to add. What if you’re just as dense as Jaeno is?” she teases. “Come on, Y/N,” she says. “Let’s go get some dinner.”

She leads you out of the tent, where the sky is darkening and the breeze is turning icier. And you can’t help but think, what a wonderful fucking start to your new year.

And inside the tent, Yoongi cocks his head, rather confused. Maybe he is dense. Because what in Sooht’s name were you thinking that you didn’t want to share just yet?

⨰ previous | series m.list | next

⨰ a/n: who's your favorite character? (because ngl i think mine has to be doyun LMAO). i'm working on a character cheatsheet so all the names don't get confusing :)

please consider telling me your thoughts with a comment, an ask or a reblog :) i love hearing readers' impressions/rambles/predictions! if you want to join the taglist, send in a private message, ask, reply to this post or reblog with your request!

⨰ taglist: @shrimpmsg @chimchiekookie @eternita3 @staerryminimini @yunkichiee

[btscreatorscorner]

Can I request you angst but fluff by the end where Taehyung was so busy in his work and you guys got into a little fight where you confronted how you feel his absence made you feel Unloved and a single parent in the marriage?

“where’s dad?”

PAIRING(s): Taehyung x reader

RATING: pg

WORD COUNT: 1.2k+

CONTENT/WARNINGS: angst with fluffy ending, not present Taehyung for most of it, established relationship/husband!Taehyung+wife!reader, parent!au, mild arguing

SUMMARY: request above // The one where Taehyung spends too much time at work and not enough at home.

A/N: here you go anonnie! I hope you enjoy this <3 also I hope this wasn’t cringe (🤡) also, despite the title, it’s not super angsty FJDJJSKSKSKAKS I know it’s misleading but trust me it’s not that sad T^T anyway, have a great day/night! Like and reblog to show love <333

Want to make a request?

RING!

Your eyes peek open, right hand going to slap your alarm clock without a thought. Checking your surroundings, you frown at the realization that your queen sized bed is as empty as the night before when you finally decided to rest.

You know Taehyung had been there at some point, the pajamas folded on his nightstand and the dirty suit in the laundry hamper proof of it. He probably made it home late, slept, then left before you or the kids woke up. Just like he’d done every other night for the past three weeks.

You get it, he has a job, one he loves and works hard to keep. But, he also has duties as a husband and father that outweigh the extra hours he puts in just because he wants to.

With a sigh, you turn off the snoozed alarm and climb out of bed to get ready for the day.

“Mina, Hyejin, wake up,” you whisper to the seven and ten year old pair of daughters you have the pleasure—and pain—of raising and caring for each morning. With a few groans and pleas to skip school just for today, you manage to get them up.

“Where’s dad? I thought he was taking us today?” The older one—Hyejin—asks sleepily, rubbing her eyes whilst brushing her teeth.

You give her a sympathetic look, knowing how attached she is to her father. Some called her a daddy’s girl, but you were glad they were so close. “He’s busy at work. Maybe he’ll be able to pick you up afterwards, but let's just get you to school for now.”

She pouts a bit, but goes back to her morning routine, leaving you to deal with her troublesome younger sister. Mina’s playfulness definitely came from her father, that’s for sure. “Stop kicking me or I won’t pack you dessert in your lunch!”

“Fine but I want a cupcake!” She had his sweet tooth too.

“Again? Isn’t this the third week he’s done this to you now?” Your best friend, Areum, exasperates from the other side, sounding like she’s about to murder your husband.

“Something like that… I don’t know what to do. I know he takes his work seriously, and I know he wants to do his best to take care of the girl and I, but I want him to spend time with us too, y’know?”

“Girl, if Jungkook ever pulled this on me, he’d be sleeping on the couch for weeks,” you giggle at her dramatic tone. “You should talk to Tae about this, soon.”

“I’m going to try tonight. Okay I’ve gotta get the girls to bed. Bye!” You sigh, hanging up your phone and changing into your pajamas. By the time you manage to tuck your angels into bed—you use angels generously when talking about Mina, who also had her father’s stubbornness (honestly, she was a carbon copy of the man, shoved in a petite seven year old girl)—you’re all tuckered out. But you can't go to bed now, you have to talk to Taehyung.

You’re half asleep when a pair of keys rattles in front of your door before it creeks open. It’s almost one in the morning, and Taehyung is just barely arriving home. He’s about to drag his feet across the floor to your room, when you finally decide to make your presence known.

“Welcome home, Taehyung.”

His drowsy self almost jumps at your voice, startled. With a hand on his chest, he heaves in a deep breath to calm his heart rate. “You’re up?”

“I know, surprising since it's almost an hour past midnight,” you give him a look of frustration, “I wanted to stay up so i could see my husband for the first time in weeks.”

“I’m sorry I haven’t been home much—but I’m working toward a promotion. Once I get it, we’ll never have to worry about money, and I’ll be home more, I promise—” You cut him, arms crossed and forehead creased.

“Taehyung, that’s what you said before you got promoted to your current position. Yet here we are.”

“I know, but I’m doing this for us. It’ll be good for the girls, for the entire family! We could go on vacation or something—”

“I don’t care about a vacation, Taehyung! Not if you’ll be working the entire time too!” You groan, trying to keep your voice down to not wake your daughters. “You know what would actually be good for us? Spending time together as a family—you included.”

“[Y/N], don’t make me sound like the bad guy,” he mumbles, voice soft with guilt. “You know I want to be here with you and the girls, but I’m just trying to take care of us as a father and husband.”

“Fathers and husbands are supposed to do more than just work. Do you know how sad Hyejin was this morning when she found out you wouldn’t be taking her to school today? I’m not making you the bad guy, I’m just asking for you to be home more.” You can feel the tears pricking behind your eyes, built up frustration and frankly, loneliness, finally getting to you in a wave of emotions.

He nods, not meeting your eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Actions speak louder than words Taehyung.”

After so many cold, lonesome mornings, it comes with a bit of shock to find a strong, tanned arm wrapped snugly around your waist. Peeling one eye open, you can just make out Taehyung's peaceful expression staring back at you. Lips parted, eyes slightly open and hair tousled by his pillow whilst the tiniest snores escaped his sleeping body.

You move to get up, lugging his heavy arm off you as best you can, when it instinctively tightens around you, “Taehyung, I have to make breakfast and get ready,” you whisper, trying to unhook his fingers from around you. “Don’t you have work today?”

He groans, shaking his head and moving his other arms to encase you into a bear hug. “No, I don’t have to go in on weekends. I was just trying to get extra hours before…” He yawns, nuzzling his face into your neck to hide his guilty expression. “You don’t have to get up yet either. Let’s just sleep a bit longer.”

“What about your promotion?”

He sighs, getting up to lean against his palm and face you. “I’m probably going to get it from all the overtime I put in the last few weeks. Which I’m sorry for prioritizing… And even if I don’t, I don’t really need it anyway,” his sheepish, boxy grin melting your heart.

“I’m sorry I got so mad at you. I know you just want us to be taken care of—it’s just that the girls and I missed you and I was tired from work and taking care of them and the house—” you almost feel embarrassed for how harshly you’d spoken to him last night

He hushes you, engulfing your body in his. “I know, I’m sorry about that too. I’ll start coming home on time, and leaving a bit later, okay?”

“And you won’t forget to take the kids to school on your days, right?”

“Right,” he chuckles nervously, the crack his voice makes eliciting a giggle from you. “But for now, can we just sleep a bit longer?”

You’re about to comply, when two pairs of footsteps and giggling intrude your room, your daughter’s joyful faces coming into view as they leap onto your husband excitedly. “You’re home! Let’s make breakfast together! C’mon Dad!”

“And we’re getting up,” you chuckle, your husband half groaning half laughing as the skinny arms of Hyejin struggle to pull him out of bed.

“I’m up! I’m up! Let’s go make breakfast for your mom…”

SKZ M.list | Taglist

[btscreatorscorner]

a lover’s redemption | prologue

pairing ↠ mafia leader!park jimin x reader

genre ↠ mafia AU — romance/action (angst, fluff, smut)

18+ | warnings ↠ all sorts of crime (including: drug and arms trade, embezzlement, mentions of kidnapping and attempted kidnapping), frequent use of guns and knives, gore (non-descriptive), mild injuries to multiple characters including reader, death. 

word count ↠ 6.3k

summary ↠ Blood, business and betrayal is all that Park Jimin has ever known, but when you cross paths again, the stakes are raised even higher and he finds himself battling his conscience, and his heart.

taglist is open – dm/comment/send an ask to be added <3

notes ↠ this is one of the fics i’ve been most excited to share since i came up with the idea almost a year ago now, i hope i can do justice to the story that’s in my head LOL. with the next part, i’ll be sharing the series masterlist and a glossary of sorts to keep up with the characters + locations as the story progresses :) for now: sehun — reader’s dad. biggest thank you to mimi @personasintro​ for putting up with me for the last few months when i’ve been so annoying 😭 i really appreciate your help and support so so so much! ❤️+ my sweet ash, @jimilter​ thank you for being the most supportive and lovely beta (i have changed this a little too since you read it i think ) <3 + hadi @amourtae​ for listening to me so many times and always checking in 🥺 + hana @cutechim​ + naia @opaljm​ for helping me out too! (it was a while ago now lol) 🥰 lastly, if you read it, please tell me how you find it  send a comment/dm/send an ask it means so much to me <3 

Keep reading

[btscreatorscorner]

touch of love - kth

sequel to taste of love !

pairing : taehyung x fem! reader

genre/au : fluff, cafe! au, strangers to friends to lovers, pining (oof)

word count : 1.6 k

rating : PG-13

warnings : none, except for some kissing

summary : Day and time do not determine your return to your favourite place, for your favourite person.

taglist : @ggukkieland ​​ <3

a/n: i have no excuse for this i’m (not) sorry wjfwieuiefsj. also, please just pretend it’s 13th of february for the sake of this drabble. hope you enjoy <3

— written for @bangtaninn​‘s xoxo event ○ prompt : “I’m only doing this because you’re cute” ○

Your mouth falls ajar as your feet halt in front of the cafe you have grown so familiar with.

“Oh my god.”

Keep reading

[btscreatorscorner]

Say it with Flour | KNJ

~summary: This had always been a bad idea. You, notorious for kitchen disasters, attending a cooking class. Maybe it could be what you needed to fix your terrible cooking skills - or maybe you could meet someone who makes it so much worse! ~pairing: namjoon x reader ~word count: 3.2k ~fluff, humour, strangers to lovers, cooking class au ~rating: g ~warnings: knives? (they’re just for cooking), jin being a shameless wingman

~a/n: hello! this is proof that I am still writing, and my first full joon fic, look at that! I wrote this for the square ‘cooking class’ over at @bangtanwritingbingo​ and hopefully I will have more entries to come for that event over the next couple of months. for anyone wondering where I have been for ages, I am still around I promise, but for a while I invested most of my writing efforts into some series I’m writing, one for jk and one for namjoon, so I have been posting less for good reason! now tho, I am nearing the end of a hellish bunch of uni work and so all being well I will be able to offer you lots more fics soon!!

This had always been a bad idea.

Keep reading

[btscreatorscorner]

gilded - MYG

ready to return home after nearly two weeks of being apart, your excitement begins to fade into anxiety; there’s something important you need to tell your husband.

𓃠 yoongi’s birthday drabbles⁹ 𓃠

⤷ drabble for gold

pairing — husband!yoongi x reader

genre/rating — R | fluff, smut, light angst, established relationship

word count — 3.3K

warnings/tags — strong language, domestic yoongi 🥺, mentions of nausea, mentions of pregnancy & babies, explicit smut — so many kisses, fingering, cockwarming, biting/scratching, edging, hair pulling, unprotected sex, impregnation kink, praise kink, creampie, some nipple play

a/n — can be read as a stand-alone !! i missed them 😭

The twitching of your fingers intertwined with his is the first thing that begins to worry Yoongi. Gaze fixed on the bouquet of flowers in your lap as he tries to keep his own on the road, glancing at you now and again. But you don’t notice that he had noticed your anxious state.

Keep reading

[btscreatorscorner]

Hiii for the Two Hearts, One Love event, can I request a drabble?

Taehyung, Agape, combo #2

// credits go to @heybaetae !

Pairing | kth x reader

Genre | just pure fluff !

Word Count | 605

Rating | PG13

Summary |  “my soulmate just friendzoned me! how do you think i feel?” 

Author’s Note | here you go my lovely! thank you so so much for requesting this <3 i loved your choices, and i wish i could’ve written this into something longer than just 605 words! either way, i hope you like what i whipped up for you<3

“My soulmate just friendzoned me, how do you think I’m feeling?”

Taehyung has been incessantly whining for the past hour. Snuggled closely to your ear, where he knows you can’t ignore him no matter what you do. In a way, you love knowing he’s aching for your dear attention, but then again, he had it coming. 

During your date at the cinema, your cute, loving boyfriend decided it’d be a good idea to eat both of your pretzels, leaving nothing for you in the end. Your stomach had been grumbling into a new Jurassic World movie, and seeing nothing but crumbs left behind had you raising an unsatisfactory brow at Taehyung. 

“I’m out with a friend.” You stated simply on the phone with your father as everyone filtered out of the building. Light-heartedly, but who wouldn’t be just a teeny bit upset at their stolen pretzel? “Yes, dad, a friend.” And at the sound of this, your boyfriend was crumbling at your feet almost as if he’s back in his theater college days. He can be a real handful - only when his inner dramatics are in show. 

“I’m sorry!” He pleads, linking your hand with his as his lips peck loving kisses onto your skin. The more attention he gives you, the more pleased you become. You’re not actually angry at him, although teasing Taehyung comes with its amusing pros. “I bought you that Hershey’s bar that you like so much - it has almonds in it.”

Music to your ears. He knows you like the back of his hand. 

“And what’s in it for me?” You press on, turning to him with a raise of the brow. You try to look as unimpressed as possible, but the pout that drags his lips downwards and the twinkle in his eyes threaten to make you smile and kiss him silly. He looks like a tiny bear. “Who’s to say you won’t eat my pretzel ever again?”

His pout grows by tenfold. Taehyung rolls onto you with a wail, grumbling. “My starlight, my pollen, my dearest love,” he chants, cupping your cheek even as he throws his whole weight onto your lap, “I will never eat your pretzel ever again. Pinky promise. You have my word - I’m never eating another pretzel in my goddamn life.” 

This makes laughter bubble out of your lips, and he knows he’s hit a jackpot making you laugh like that. Taehyung has secured forgiveness.

Perhaps not yet, but he’s very close.

Your finger reaches down to pinch the tan skin at his cheek, pouting down at him ever so tauntingly. “Say the magic words first, and maybe I’ll forgive you. But you still owe me a pretzel next time we go watch one of your geeky turn ons.”

A gasp elicits from him. “Mind you! The Great Gatsby is a masterpiece. I have full evidence, and in this essay I will-”

In neither essay will he do anything, because you pull him up to place your lips onto his and lock yourselves in a tender kiss. Sure, you have no idea what the hell your boyfriend’s talking about when he starts going off about these little things, but you adore him nonetheless. Even if he did eat your pretzel, you forgive him in the end. You’d rather lose a measly pretzel than Kim Taehyung - a man who’s planted himself in your life as your soulmate, and your boyfriend. 

“I love you,” you giggle as you pull away, pushing strays of hair behind his ear. And it’s all it takes to see that wondrous grin of his that makes your heart flutter so ecstatically.

[btscreatorscorner]

BCC is on hiatus at the moment! The team is doing some revisions so the net will be closed for a little while along with our queue! We will be posting information regarding changes, events, and any new positions that are coming to the net! We will be keeping everyone updated regarding the day we open our doors again! Hope to see our members again along with new faces come for our reopening! If you have any questions about the news fill free to send us an ask and we’ll try and answer as soon as we can! Thank you~

- BCC Team <3

[btscreatorscorner]

Bet On It | MYG

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Genre: smut, fluff, enemies to lovers, non-Idol!AU

Rating: M (18+)

Warnings: swearing, kissing, drinking, fingering, getting frisky in a public bathroom, uh i'm gonna say light bondage, dirty talk, oral (f receiving), Yoongi is a blond menace, undercut warning

Word Count: 6.5K

Disclaimer: NSFW, obviously I don’t own BTS - they just inspire me

Summary: What's a little wager between enemies? How about if it's your body on the line?

A/N: Sooooo this was supposed to be a drabble, part of my Milestone Celebration. The prompt was “That was the prettiest sound I’ve ever heard.” I wrote 500 words... and then another 500... and then bloop! It became a one-shot. Originally I intended to post this on his birthday, but I'm impatient to get started on my next fic idea, so.... here you go!

Thanks to @thatlongspringnight and @namjinsmoonchile for brainstorming trivia team names.

Unbeta’d as usual. I would love to hear what you think - my inbox is always open! 💕

Masterlist 💜 Find me on AO3

“Okay, you motherfuckers, let’s do this. Cry havoc, and let slip the dogs of war!” With a vicious grin, you raise your pint in a toast to your teammates.

Blank stares greet you from around the table.

“She’s doing it again,” Jungkook says.

“I know. Just ignore her,” Seokjin replies.

“Oh, come on,” you sigh. “Help me out here! It’s been three weeks with no wins. You’re our leader, Seokjin–give us a rousing speech! Do something to rally the troops!”

Jungkook frowns. “Jin, you promised you’d talk to her about the military metaphors.”

“I did! And do you know what she said? ‘Roger that!’ Then she saluted!”

“I’m sitting right here, jerks. You’re not even pretending to whisper!” With a frustrated pout, you turn your attention to the busy room around you.

The Blue & Grey is packed once again as you sip on the pub’s latest brew (an apricot wheat, perfect for early summer) while you wait for your trivia match to begin. It’s your Friday night post-work routine, just as it’s been for the last five months, ever since your coworker/work spouse Seokjin invited you to join his team, the Real Jiniuses.

He’d heard through the office grapevine that you liked games. And were a little competitive. Clearly, his source understated the facts.

You love trivia. And you fucking live for the thrill of competiton.

So once you’d stopped mocking him for the team name, you’d agreed.

Seokjin leans forward, long black hair flopping over his forehead as he gently clasps his large hand over yours. He utters your name calmly, like a parent trying to reason with a bratty child. “Don’t you think you’re taking this a little too seriously?”

“Pfft, I think you’re not taking it seriously enough! Do you really want to lose to You Just Got Served? Again?”

You Just Got Served. Aka the Real Jiniuses’ rivals. Led by Hoseok from Legal aka Hardass Hobi as you and Seokjin refer to him. So named because of his ruthless attitude in the office.

Also he had a peach so firm you could bounce a paperclip off it. Not that you, the head of HR, had ever tried that. Ahem.

Normally, your teams trade the top spot in the match rankings, but they’ve been kicking your asses for the last few weeks. And you know it’s all thanks to one man.

Min Yoongi. Your nemesis.

He’s You Just Got Served’s ace. The man with all the answers. The man who annoys the fuck out of you. Because just as quickly as you marked him your biggest competition for ultimate trivia master, he sussed you out as the same.

A sneak glance at his team’s table confirms what you already knew. He’s watching you. Which only adds to your irritation. Sure, his whole team is technically your competition, but all your ire is reserved for the annoyingly sharp, vexingly handsome man studying you from across the room.

Make no mistake, he is handsome. As he gazes at you now with those cat-like eyes, newly bleached-blonde hair hanging messily over his brow, examining you from behind a pair of thick black frames, your pulse quickens slightly, despite your best efforts to appear calm and unperturbed.

“Do I want to lose to Hardass again and have to deal with him bringing it up in our Monday morning meeting? No. But it’s a minor annoyance in the grand scheme of things.” Seokjin pauses. “Do you really want a repeat of Trivial Pursuit night?”

“You always bring that up!” A few weeks into your time with the team, Seokjin had invited you to his apartment to play board games with some of the others. It had not gone particularly well. The ‘take no prisoners’ approach to trivia you’ve got makes for a bad scene when your opponents are your friends. “I said I was sorry!”

And you’d been permanently banned from board games night.

“You made Jungkook cry!”

You scoff, sipping your pint. “Oh, like that’s hard!”

“Hey!” Jungkook protests with a tiny sniffle. You gesture emphatically.

“Fine, point made,” Seokjin concedes, lovingly rubbing his boyfriend’s back while carefully avoiding his glare. ”Can we just have fun tonight? Please?”

Only because he’s your favorite coworker, and only because you don’t want to lose yet another friendship over a game, you give in. “Yeah, yeah, fun, whatever. I’ll get the next pitcher.”

The bar is horribly crowded as you approach. Apparently all the other players have decided to place their drink orders at the same exact time. Tapping your fingers on the smooth wooden surface, you’re patiently waiting to catch the bartender’s eye when a velvety voice rumbles in your ear.

“Back for more, huh?”

The devil himself. “Hi, Yoongi.”

He slips in beside you, propping himself up on an elbow on the bar. If you were friends, you’d tell him that you think his fresh undercut is striking, and paired with his newfound blondness, makes him look like a goddamn snack.

But you’re not, so you just ignore him and keep focused on flagging down the bartender.

“I never pegged you for a masochist,” Yoongi notes, tongue licking at the corner of his mouth. You try not to follow the movement with your eyes but it’s like breathing - happens completely involuntarily. “Yet here you are again, looking for more pain. Which I’m more than happy to provide.”

You finally place your pitcher order with the bartender before sizing up the man beside you. This is your other Friday night routine–trading insults with Yoongi. It’s how you prepare for the game, exchanging verbal jabs with the enemy. Though lately it’s been more innuendos than barbs, especially on his end, and these back-and-forths leave you feeling more heated than ready for battle.

Damned if you'll let him know that, though. Admitting that Yoongi has some sort of power over you feels like admitting defeat. And that’s the one thing you’ll never do.

“God, I can’t wait to make you choke on those words when we beat your ass tonight.”

His lips twitch mirthfully. “Oh, now you want to choke me? And there’s the sadism. Fascinating. I’m just learning all sorts of new things about you tonight.”

“Oh, fuck off,” you groan, rolling your eyes. He’s so transparent with these attempts to get under your skin. It’d be hilarious, if only they didn’t work. “Maybe you should spend less time learning about me and more time studying up on your trivia? Then you won’t have to resort to these childish attempts at riling me up to feel superior.”

“Please. We both know I don’t need to do any of that. When it comes to trivia, I’m the king.”

“You’re the worst, your highness,” you proclaim, tone dripping with disdain.

He sidles closer, near enough that you breathe him in. Despite all his sharpness, his scent is so soft–lavender, with woodsy notes, mixed with the spice of the whisky cocktail he exhales as he peers at you through those dark glasses. Warm and inviting.

“Oh, I like that. You can call me that from now on, if you’d please.”

“Fuck off. Prepare to be dethroned, asshole.”

“Ha. You making a run for the crown? Good. Bring it. But know that I never back down from a challenge.”

Your retort is cut off by a voice behind you. “Yoongi, did you–oh.” It’s Hobi, looking devastatingly gorgeous as usual in a perfectly tailored suit. Since most of the players here come straight from your place of work, it's a rather well-dressed bunch of nerds. No complaints on your end. “I was gonna ask what’s taking you so long with my drink, but nevermind. I see now.”

“Just having a friendly little discussion here.”

“I’m sure.” Hobi nods coolly at you before he nudges Yoongi out of the way to speak to the bartender. “Don’t let me interrupt.”

“Oh no, please do,” you quip. “I insist.”

Yoongi pouts, pretty lips puffing up before that cocky grin reappears again. It’s never far when he’s talking to you. “But we were having such an illuminating conversation.”

“You mispronounced ‘torturous.’”

His smile widens and you realize you’ve once again led him where he wants the conversation to go. It’s incredible. You never intend to set him up like that and yet there you go walking directly into his traps every time.

You sidestep.

“Well, it depends on–what? What are you looking at?” He slaps a hand to his slender neck suddenly, rubbing as though he’ll find something staining the skin there, based on the way you’re squinting as you stare at his throat.

“Sorry, I’m just marveling at the structural integrity of your neck.”

He lifts an eyebrow.

“It’s amazing that something so thin can support something so big.”

His eyes flash before he smirks, opening his mouth.

“If you’re about to make a big dick comment, I swear to God I’ll kick you straight off this team right now,” Hobi promises from over his shoulder, and Yoongi swiftly closes his mouth. “Come on, enough harassing the competition.” He tips his drink towards you. “Best of luck.”

Hobi leads Yoongi back to their table, and you know you shouldn’t ogle him openly, but Yoongi’s tight pants hug his ass so obscenely that you can’t stop yourself and oh, great, he caught you looking. Hastily, you grab your pitcher and bolt for your table, which is close enough to where Yoongi sits that you can hear him chuckling delightedly.

The quizmaster welcomes everyone to trivia night, and your thoughts are quickly replaced by the only thing that could drive Yoongi out of your head���the exhilaration of the game.

Two hours later, sitting at the bar, you’re trying to drown your sorrows with yet another pint. You Just Got Served’s winning streak continues.

“That was the prettiest sound I’ve ever heard.”

You frown as Yoongi takes a seat on the barstool next to you. “What sound?”

“The little noise you made when your team lost.” He sips his drink casually, eyes once again fixed on your face, observing your reaction closely.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you sniff, crossing your arms. “I didn't say anything.”

For once, you hadn’t. You’d been so sure that your team was going to pull out the win with the final question tonight that you were left completely speechless by the results. Unlike last week, when you’d let loose a flurry of loud expletives, much to Seokjin’s absolute embarrassment.

Okay, maybe tonight you’d made a little exclamation of protest. Just a tiny one. But there was no way Yoongi could’ve heard it.

“You absolutely did. Kinda sounded like a… a needy whine?” The smirk returns. “I’ve never heard anything so sweet.”

Your eyebrow quirks. “Is that because you’ve never made a woman whine before?” Yoongi scowls as you raise your pint to your smiling lips.

Hobi suddenly materializes at your side like a sexy but stern magician. “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. You should really consider joining our team,” he says, motioning to the bartender for a refill. “Aren’t you tired of losing?”

“Cross over to the Dark Side? Aren’t you supposed to entice me with saving my friends or offer me cookies or something?”

“Fuck, even for a nerd, you’re a nerd, you know?” Hobi sighs. “Which is why you should be with us. You’re absolutely wasted on the Jiniuses. Don’t you want to be on the winning team for once?”

“Save it, Hoseok.” With one hand, you shoo him away. “Go gloat elsewhere. It’s bad enough I can never shake this one,” you thumb at Yoongi.

“Yeah, weird how that always happens,” Hobi comments drolly, clapping Yoongi on the shoulder as he drifts off to bother Seokjin.

“Anyway…” Yoongi drawls as if he were never interrupted, “what will it take to get you to make that noise again? I miss it already.”

“God, what will it take to get you to shut up about it?”

“How about a little wager over next week?”

“Mmmm, not much of a gambler.” Contests, you like. Gambling, not so much. You don’t believe in luck. Just in yourself.

“Afraid you’ll lose? I would’ve thought you’d be used to that by now.”

He’s such an ass. “Fine, let’s say I take you up on this. What’s in it for me?”

“Name your prize.”

“Okay, how about… if my team wins, you pick up our tab for the night.”

He taps his glass thoughtfully. “Is that all?”

“What, that’s not enough?” He has no idea how much Seokjin alone can drink.

“I’m just saying. Make it worth your while.”

Tossing back the rest of your drink, you reconsider. What do you want? “All right. You pick up our tab, and you have to stop annoying me every week. Which means no more comments about stupid shit like imaginary sounds.”

He’s silent for a moment, still examining you as he mulls your words. You wonder if you’ve made a mistake with your choice of prize. Don’t you enjoy being the center of his attention every week? Crave his fiery words and longing looks? There’s a weird sense of panic growing in the pit of your stomach while you wait for his response.

“Okay,” he finally replies, setting his empty glass on the bar. He tilts towards you, and the loud din of the room around you dies away as he murmurs, “But when my team wins, I’m finally going to take you home and do everything I’ve ever wanted to do to you, over and over, until you can only make that sweet little sound.”

A jolt ripples through you. Shifting in your seat, squeezing your thighs together, you inhale deeply to control your breathing, so you give nothing away. “Are you kidding me? You really think I’d agree to that? To offering myself as a prize?”

“Yes.” Stated so matter-of-factly.

“And just why the fuck would I do that?”

“Because you want to come home with me. You’re just too proud to admit it. So I’ll make it easy for you. When I win, you’re mine for the night.” He lightly skims a long finger down your arm, and goosebumps rush to fill the space where his skin touched yours.

The satisfied look in his eyes as you struggle to compose yourself is the only thing anchoring you to reality, keeping you from grabbing him by the tie and dragging him straight into the bathroom.

You won’t let him win that easily.

“Well. That is simply not going to happen. I’ll take the bet, because I know it’s the only way to get you to stop bothering me, and because I know I’m going to win.” Gracefully, you climb off your stool, thankful that your legs haven’t turned to jelly after what he said. “You’re going down.”

He winks. “Well yeah, fingers crossed, love.”

Your scowl leaves him laughing as you stalk away.

“I’ve been dreaming about that noise all week long.” Yoongi’s voice drifts over the clatter around you. After another long week, it’s Friday again, so you’re at the bar, ordering provisions. And of course Yoongi’s here, too, wearing a grey three-piece suit, running his hand through his perfectly coiffed hair, looking delicious as always.

How annoying.

“You’ve been hallucinating an imaginary sound? You should probably get that checked out.” The bartender slides a cocktail towards you and you give them an appreciative nod before taking a sip.

“Really?”

“Really what?”

He grins, pink lips revealing a gummy smile. “Is that the best you’ve got tonight?”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“You’re not stressing about the match, are you? Wouldn’t want to win because you’re not on your game.”

“I’m always on.” Maybe it’s the exhaustion of a long week getting to you, but his snarky comments are even more irritating than usual tonight.

“Good. Because I want to know I’ve beaten the best.” The corner of his mouth lifts, that familiar crooked smile igniting a flame inside you.

You quickly tamp it down.

“Always so damn confident, aren’t you, Yoongi? Talking so big. Even if you win, do you really think you can make me make that sound again? Or any sounds, for that matter?”

He watches you over the rim of his glass as he takes a long dram. Something flutters against the bare skin of your thigh and you glance down to see his other hand brushing lightly along your leg.

“I assure you that I can and I will. But if you’d prefer a demonstration…?”

The hem of your skirt is pinched between his fingers. He rolls the fabric up slightly and you inhale sharply as his thumb strokes the smooth skin beneath. Tearing your gaze away from his hand, you find him studying your reaction. Waiting.

The quizmaster for the evening announces ten minutes until the match. You snap out of your trance and swat his hand away, hoping your bored expression is more convincing than it feels. “No need to embarrass yourself now. Save it for the quiz.”

Even though you know you shouldn’t, you glance back over your shoulder as you saunter away. Yoongi leans against the bar, tongue poking his cheek as he watches your hips sway and fuck, he’s caught you looking again. That spark inside you burns as he winks, and you turn away, in desperate need of your drink and a distraction.

Without a doubt, trivia night is always the highlight of your week. But tonight you’re too keyed up to truly enjoy it. Every round has you on edge, wondering if you’re one step closer to winning or losing the bet–and trying to figure out which outcome you’d prefer. All of this means a quieter, more subdued you than usual. Naturally, your friends notice.

“You feeling okay tonight?” Jungkook asks between the second and third rounds, nudging you gently with his shoulder.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You flash the briefest of smiles. Jungkook jerks his head at his boyfriend, who shrugs and raises his eyebrows. “Stop talking about me like I’m not here looking right at you.”

“I didn’t say anything!” Seokjin exclaims.

“Please. Your face is louder than a fire alarm.”

“You say you’re fine, but you’re still on your first drink, and you haven’t made a single warfare reference all night,” Jungkook states. “So obviously you’re not.”

“It’s nothing! Just a little out of it after a rough week,” you lie, trying to summon some enthusiasm. “Don’t worry, I’m ready for the next round! Once more unto the breach!”

Jungkook wrinkles his nose adorably as Seokjin grants you a half-grin, but you know they’re not fully convinced.

Is this Yoongi’s evil plan? To psych you out with this bet and mess with your mind? Prevent you from playing your best? If it is, it’s really working, goddamn it.

Somehow, despite your inability to relax, the match flies by, a blur of questions and answers and shouts of victory and defeat. It comes down to a repeat of last week, the Real Jiniuses and You Just Got Served neck-and-neck to the very end, with everything hinging on the final question.

“Alright, the category tonight is ‘Literature of Future Past.’ If you don’t know this next question, don’t blame the stars. What famous phrase from classical literature was infamously uttered by General Chang, the Klingon villain from the 1991 film ‘Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country?’”

As your teammates whisper to one another, hazarding wild guesses, you glance at Yoongi’s table. Like your team, he and the others sit with heads bent towards one another. But you have a clear view of Yoongi’s face, all furrowed brows and pouting lips.

For once, he doesn’t look confident.

“Hey!” Seokjin’s voice brings you back to the group. “You haven’t said a single word in the last five minutes. Do you have a guess or what?”

You don’t need a guess. Calmly, you whisper the answer to Seokjin. Everyone else seems uncertain, but you’ve never been more sure in your life.

“And the answer is–“

You can’t hear what the quizmaster reveals because one of your teammates begins screeching in your ear. Your eyes are fixed on You Just Got Served’s table as the scores are revealed.

Yoongi’s expression says it all.

You won.

There’s a lot of cheering and even more drinking after the results are announced. You’re thrilled that your team has finally snapped their run of losses. But you hang back a bit, watching your friends carry on carousing without you.

The celebrations eventually die down and your teammates begin to drift away. Soon, you’re the only one left, nursing another drink at the bar. You know you should go home, but you feel antsy, like you’re not quite done with the night yet.

“Congratulations,” Yoongi mutters, shouldering his way next to you. He motions to the bartender that he’s ready to close out his tab, which is undoubtedly astonishingly high given how much your team imbibed after you told them it was on him.

“Sorry, didn’t catch that?” Mustering up a playful grin, you cup your ear.

His mouth sets in a flat line before he speaks again. “Congratulations. You won. I’ll stop bothering you.” His long fingers drum quietly on the bartop as he waits for his card. There are no quippy comments, no teasing smiles, nothing but silence and distance.

Well, you don’t care for this at all.

“How disappointing,” you remark, twirling the stir stick from your cocktail between your fingertips. “I guess you talk a big game, but just can’t deliver, huh?”

Yoongi turns to you with narrowed eyes. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“For your information, I didn't miss a single answer tonight, other than the last one! Any other night, that would’ve been enough to beat you,” he sulks. “That final round was bullshit. Who’s even watched that stupid old movie?”

Wow. Someone’s a sore loser.

“Except it wasn’t any other night, it was tonight, when you really needed to dig deep and secure the win, and you just… couldn’t.” You tip your head, giving him an appraising look. “And now you’re just giving up, huh? Throwing in the towel, because you lost one match.”

“Throwing in the - what are you talking about?” he hisses, attention fully focused on you now. You can feel the heat of his body where his arm presses against you, jostled closer by the other patrons vying for the bartender’s attention. “The bet’s over! You won. I lost.” His jaw twitches slightly with that last declaration.

Oh. You understand instantly. He’s mad at himself for losing.

It’d be so easy to reach out and grab his chin, look him in the eye, and tell him that you don’t care about any stupid bets. You want him to take you home. Make you his. But that requires you to surrender yourself to him, and that’s not the way you play.

“You know what I want?” The last dregs of your drink flow down your throat as you tip your head back to drain your glass. Yoongi watches closely, eyeing the graceful line of your neck with interest. “What I want is for you to show me that I beat the best tonight. Didn’t you say you never back down from a challenge? Then prove it.” He’s breathing hard as you smirk, twirling his black tie around your fingers. “Show me that you can deliver on that offer you made earlier. Make me whine, Yoongi, right here, right now, and I’m all yours.”

His eyes are darkened pools as he studies you. God, how you long to dive in. “Are you serious?”

"Mmmhmm. If you still want to take me home, you gotta make me want it. Show me what you can do.” Gently, you untwist his tie, smoothing the silky fabric, letting your fingertips skim against his chest as you gaze at him through lowered lashes.

“Fuck,” he whistles a low note. His tongue dances over his lower lip. “Come on.”

His hand grasps yours, pulling you off your seat. Most of the trivia crowd has cleared out by now. The quizmaster has been replaced by a deejay currently spinning something loud and fast. You wind your way through the crush of bodies on the dance floor as Yoongi leads you into the back hallway of the pub.

He pauses for a second at the door of one of the bathrooms. When no one answers his questioning knock, he quickly urges you inside and locks the door behind you.

In the flickering fluorescent lighting of the restroom, Yoongi removes his glasses, tucking them into the inner pocket of his suit jacket. His gaze slowly roams over your body, a nakedly hungry look on his face. Gone are the winks, the smirks, all those cocky little gestures he loves to tease you with. This is the expression of a man who wants to devour you whole, in no uncertain terms, and he’s dying for you to know it.

One of his hands cups your cheek while the other slides up your thigh, bunching your skirt as it goes. “If at any point you want me to stop, just say the word,” he instructs you. “This is only fun for me if you’re into it, too.”

“Okay.” Your breathing is a little shaky. The intensity of his gaze has you rattled. But you’ve already decided you want this, so you don’t plan on saying a word.

In fact, you don’t plan on making any noises at all. You’re not giving him an inch, or rather, a whine, unless he earns it from you.

With a tilt of his head, he pulls you into a kiss. A hint of whisky still clings to his lips, sweet and smoky, but it’s the bite underneath that has you leaning into him, seeking more, getting drunk on him. You curl your fingers into the lapel of his suit as he slides his hand around to your ass. He palms you through your panties, then lifts your leg to wrap around him as he grinds himself into your core.

He’s so hard against you already. Knowing that you’ve done this to him spurs you on, your lips falling open enough for him to lick into you. His hands find the zipper on your skirt and in an instant it’s crumpled around your feet.

“You taste so good,” he whispers, kissing a trail down your neck. “Do you taste like this everywhere?” You nearly moan his name, but bite your lip in time. Abruptly, he drops your leg and pulls away, and you teeter for a moment before catching yourself. In your head, you call him a few choice names, but you say nothing out loud.

His smirk reappears as he drops to his knees. “Better hold on to something.” He buries his face in your heat, kissing you through the sodden silk and lace he finds there. A keen bubbles up but you swallow it back down as his nose finds your clit and rubs against the sensitive nub. “You can start with me.” He grabs your left hand, placing it in his hair. Instantly, you card your fingers through his platinum locks. With your right hand, you grip the sink, needing something steady to keep you in place.

The man between your legs yanks your panties to the floor and dives in with no hesitation. His tongue licks a long stripe up your slit before he begins to swirl it around your clit and then his hands join the fray, fingers prying back your folds as he slips inside.

Your own tongue is speared between your teeth, to the point that you begin to fear you might chomp clean through. But if you let go, there’s no telling what sort of sounds will escape your lips, so you continue to hold it. Releasing his hair, you clutch at the sink with both hands.

Yoongi chooses that moment to replace his tongue with his index finger, and your mouth falls open as you rock your hips forward. How did he find that spot so quickly? He’s playing you like a musician plays an instrument, all deft fingers and graceful tongue, making your body sing.

“You like that, love? Hmm? Want another?” He adds a second finger.

Swiftly, you stuff the palm of your right hand into your mouth, gnawing to suppress any whimpers. Your eyes flutter shut as you feel yourself nearing your peak, continuing to rut your hips brazenly as you chase your high on his thrusting fingers. God, you’re going to cum if he keeps this up, but there’s no way you can possibly do that silently.

“Oh, look at you,” Yoongi groans happily, mouth lapping at the wetness clinging to your thighs. “Humping away, so needy. Are you wishing that was my cock inside you? Hmm?” He nips when you don’t reply. “I asked you a question, love.”

His fingers suddenly withdraw as his tongue stops.

Your eyes fly open. Releasing your palm, you glance down to find him resting on his heels, watching you with a wicked glint in his eyes.

“So that’s your game, huh?” he rasps, grabbing the hand that was just in your mouth. His thumb rubs over the teeth marks there. “Muffling yourself, so you won’t make any sound?”

You shrug, crossing your arms. “Maybe. Does it matter?”

“I think it does. Seems a bit like cheating to me.”

“It’s not cheating,” you petulantly claim, frustrated beyond belief. Can’t he just let it go and get back to proving his skill? You were so close. “It’s just… it’s like the final round. You know, it’s meant to be a challenge, not a walk in the park.” He doesn’t make any movements, continuing to observe you closely, and you pout. “Come on, I thought you didn’t back down from anything!”

Yoongi tips his head to the side as he considers your words. “I suppose you’re right.” He stands, loosening his tie. “You never really set any rules for this… challenge… of yours, so I can’t really say it’s not fair. But, you also didn’t specify what I could or couldn’t do, so....” He yanks the silky material from around his throat. “Turn around.”

He grips the tie tightly as you shoot him a curious look. “And what exactly do you think you’re going to do with that?”

He doesn’t answer, just takes a step forward and lightly grasps your chin. “Turn. Around.” The tone of his voice is commanding, but there’s a question in his eyes. A way out, if you want it.

You turn around.

“Clasp your hands together.” Silently, you obey, and he wraps the tie around your wrists, binding them together. “Too tight?” Testing his work, you find that you have a little give, but not enough to get loose. Once you shake your head, he spins you around to face him again.

“Let’s see how quiet you can be now,” he murmurs, lowering his face to your neck and sucking at a sensitive spot beneath your ear. You huff a breath through your nostrils, still determined to keep completely mum.

Yoongi’s hands run over your blouse before tugging it up, sliding it over your breasts. His lips glide down until they meet your bra. He mouths at your nipples through the dark lace and you arch into him, wishing your hands were free so you could remove all the fabric preventing his hot kisses from touching your bare skin. Having him so close is torture.

Which is obviously the point.

You’re shifting around, trying ardently to get him to slide your bra down without actually saying anything, when there’s a knock at the door.

You both freeze. Yoongi lifts his head.

“Maybe we should–”

“Do you want to–”

“Hello, is someone in there?” More knocks. “Come on, there’s a line!”

“Do you want to stop?” Yoongi asks.

“God no,” you answer immediately, without a trace of shame.

A full gummy smile crosses his face. Then he turns and bellows, “FUCK OFF!”

The knocking ceases.

“I guess I should move things along,” he hums, tracing his hand down your torso. “As much as I wish I could take my time right now, I can’t. But that’s okay. After this, we’ll have all night.”

Without warning, he pulls you flush against him and kisses you fiercely. Your cry of surprise is swallowed by his greedy mouth. With your hands bound, you can’t run your fingers through his hair or cling to his shoulders or touch him in any of the million ways you’re dying to right now. You can’t even hold yourself up, melting into his embrace. He’s completely in control.

So you surrender.

His kisses grow messy, more desperate, until you’re both gasping for breath. His hand finds its way between your legs, stroking and plunging, one finger, then two, before he’s on his knees again.

“Lift this for me,” he bids you, bending your left leg. “Just let it rest here.” You wobble a little as you try to balance your thigh on his shoulder, puffing a frustrated breath, but before you can keel over, his strong hands grip your waist. “It’s okay, I’ve got you, love. Just lean back.”

Your back tilts against the cold sink. Yoongi’s supporting most of your weight as his hand splays on your stomach, holding you in place so you’re angled just right, completely open to him, just as he desires.

“So beautiful,” he murmurs reverently. “Such a shame I can’t savor you right now. But I promise I will later.” And then his mouth is on you.

The rude interruption seems to have lit a fire under him, because as soon as he sets a relentless pace, he doesn’t stop. He keeps finding that spot inside you, lithe fingers brushing over it again and again, making your eyes roll back in ecstasy. As he tongues at your clit, treating the tiny bud like a drop of the sweetest nectar, you realize your end is approaching quickly again.

You try to keep quiet. You really do. But all your effort is completely useless against Yoongi’s talented hands and tongue. Once your mouth goes slack, it’s over.

You begin to wail.

“Yoongi, oh fuck!” The floodgates open and you gasp, you moan, you scream his name. “Jesus, fuck, oh my god!”

He’s laughing into you, and you struggle hard against the tie, fighting to slip a hand loose so you can get your fingers on him, grab his hair, touch him, but in addition to being a trivia master he’s also apparently a fucking knot expert, so you’re not getting free. With a frustrated whine, you drop your head.

Game over. He wins.

He replaces his mouth with his thumb as he watches you through heavily-lidded eyes. “There it is, love! There’s that beautiful sound I’ve been dreaming of. I knew I could get you there.”

All you can do is groan his name. “Yoongi, please!” Not even sure what you’re pleading for, just knowing that you want whatever he’s willing to give.

The fingers pumping in and out of you make the filthiest background noise as he babbles on, caught up in the rush of victory. “Fuck, love, everything you do is so fucking hot - the way you walk, the way you talk, the way you moan my name. You’re so fucking sexy. I can’t wait to have you tonight. You ready to get fucked by the king?”

“Yoongi.” He’s still the fucking worst and you hate how much you love it, clenching at his words. “Oh fuck, please don’t stop!”

He feels you tightening around him and growls. “Say it. Say I’m the king.”

Right now you’d say anything he told you to if it meant he’d keep going. “You’re the king! Ah, fuck, you’re the king!”

With another thrust of his hand, you come undone. The burning inferno inside you spreads, consuming you so completely that your right knee buckles and you pitch forward. Yoongi holds you up, one hand on your torso, the other gripping your left thigh, still lapping at your cunt until you can’t take any more.

Panting, you protest. “Too much, Yoongi, it’s too much.”

He stops, glancing up at you. A glossy sheen of sex is smeared all around his nose and mouth, and as you fight to catch your breath, he removes his hand from your core and sucks each finger clean, one by one.

“God, you’re so over-the-top,” you huff as he laughs. “Will you untie me now?”

He rises to his feet. “Say it one more time and I will.”

“Say what?”

“You know what.” He blinks languidly, a proud smile curling his lips. “Tell me I’m the king.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“Just say it.”

He’s unbelievable. You try appealing to his baser instincts. “Please, Yoongi, I wanna touch you. Don’t you want me to touch you?” Bringing your knee up, you rub against the massive tent in his pants, smirking as he exhales forcefully.

Yet he doesn’t cave, running a thumb over your lips. “Come on. One more time. I wanna watch this pretty mouth say it.”

You want to kiss him and curse him all at once. Pleasing him wins out.

“You’re the king,” you sigh. “Now untie me and fuck off.”

You start to turn, but Yoongi stops you with his hands on your hips, and leans in for a kiss, slow and sure. Something must be seriously wrong with your knees because they’re seconds from giving out again. His fingers pick at the knotted tie, releasing your wrists. As soon as your arms are free, you loop them around his neck, never breaking the kiss for a second.

Until there’s another knock at the door.

“Hello? Look, whoever’s in there, can you please wrap it up?” the bartender hollers through the door. “Other people need the restroom, you know.”

“JUST A MINUTE!” you boom, giggling at Yoongi’s startled expression. “Sorry.” “I’m assuming my demonstration was satisfactory, given the many, many sweet sounds you made. I didn’t hear a single complaint, but I think I did hear you call me the king once or twice….” he trails off, grinning as you push him away and adjust your blouse, straightening the wrinkled fabric over your stomach.

“Oh, fuck all the way off, will you?” You reach for your panties but he swipes them up first and stuffs them into his pocket.

“What?” His tone is airy and innocent. “I earned these.”

No argument there.

Once you’re both looking respectable enough to leave the bathroom, he pauses with his hand on the doorknob. “I know what you said earlier, but you’re not under any obligation to–”

“Yoongi.” His voice falters as you place your hand on his chest, fingers curling around his tie. “Take me home.”

With a smirk, he opens the door.

© 2022 by sunshinerainbowsbts. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost.

[btscreatorscorner]

divine seduction | kth. (m)

banner by the wonderful @introgfx​ <3

➵ summary: you despise your quarterly meetings with the demon king, kim taehyung, for many reasons. one; being that he’s maddeningly charming, two; he tests the limits of your relationship every visit, and three; he’s gotten under your skin so bad, you’re ready to show him that two can play his game.

➵ pairing: demon king!taehyung x angel queen!reader

➵ genre: angels/demons, royalty, enemies to lovers!au, fantasy!au, smut, pwp, light angst, fluff

➵ rating: 18+

➵ word count: 11k

➵ warnings: fantasy depictions of angels and demons, explicit sexual content, hard but sweet dom!taehyung, switch/sub!reader, huge dicc!tae, dirty talk, biting, blood play (he’s a demon with it), bondage, handjobbing, size kink, pain kink, punishment, degradation/humiliation, nipple/breast play, possessiveness, choking, marking, so much licking (taehyung loves tasting his angel), begging, crying, orgasm denial/control, spitting, oral (f. receiving), cum eating, fingering, anal play, sex toy, double penetration, throne sex, reverse cowgirl, hitting it from the back, hair pulling, finger-sucking, deepthroating, forced orgasms, multiple orgasms, creampie <3

➵ a/n: lord forgive me for i have sinned, i have no explanation for this fic except complete horniness!! >_< please enjoy this to-die-for demon king tae 😌 as always, your feedback means the world to me <3

➵ playlist: wicked games by the weeknd

↳ in submission for the february games:

❂ “Where Cupid’s Arrows Lie”        ⁂ hosted by: professor ryen @kithtaehyung​​ through @bangtansorciere

⤐  au type: “why me?” // enemies to lovers ⤐  themes: angels/demons, fantasy ⤐  kinks: anal play, biting, blood play, bondage, choking, cunnilingus, degradation/humiliation, double penetration, fingering, handjob, hair pulling, orgasm control, pain kink, sex toys, size kink, deepthroating <3

“Must I really see him today?” 

“It’s essential, your Majesty. He requested the meeting himself.” 

“What for, exactly?” 

“He would not disclose that information, only that he desires to see you.” 

You sighed grievously as you fixed the backing of your earring in your mirror, ensuring it was snug. Wearing your appropriate royal robes, you dressed yourself for a cordial meeting, along with packing your utmost patience and tolerance. 

Soon, you were going to meet the most obnoxious, prideful, exasperating being in the universe. 

Keep reading

[btscreatorscorner]

Hello Mars!! Happy Valentines day! For the Bangtan Valenties, Gummy Bears, wrapped in cellophane, and purple! I hope that you last two weeks is as chill as it can be, and I hope you have a good day! <3

Case Reopened (knj)

summary- Your ex has some nerve to antagonize you during a case after everything he’s put you through. But Kim Namjoon always did have a hold on you, whether you admit it to yourself or not.

word count- 1.6k

pairing- ex!Namjoon x Reader

rating- R

genre- lawyers au, exes2lovers, angst, smut

warnings- infidelity mentioned, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex

a.n.- this was meant to be sexy but somehow turned into this 💀 hope you enjoy saturn! <3

This is not betaed oop!

-

“Fuck you,” you gritted through your teeth, rage boiling under your skin, making it erupt in goosebumps.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he said with the same infuriating smirk he had donned in court when bringing in a witness you were unprepared for. He was the defense attorney and it was his prerogative to bring in surprise witnesses but the fact that he brought him in was a low blow.

You had gone against Namjoon too many times to count in your career as a prosecutor. It was what started your relationship. It was what ended it too. Too many cases requiring you to build a wall between each other — a wall that only expanded from cases into an impenetrable fortress that left a three year relationship full of deceit.

This case was the biggest case you had ever tried, a chance to take down the crime syndicate that terrorized your city. It was the cherry on top that you’d be defeating your cocky ex, but he had to once again turn the courtroom into a circus. Not only did he blow up your straight forward case by bringing in a witness that nullified your entire offense, but he brought in Jungkook, the sweet bartender you were seeing. Who would’ve thought that the bar he worked at would conveniently provide the perfect alibi? Clearly not you.

“Your boy toy was great today, wasn’t he?” he mocked, sitting on the desk, a foot still on the ground, legs spread — confident and overbearing. He tilted his head, a lip between his teeth as he surveyed your body in a way that made you feel naked, made a familiar tremble crawl up your spine. However, regardless of his affect on you, you would not let him one up you. Not again.

“How much did you pay him for that false testimony?” you seethed, stepping closer to him, wanting nothing more than to tear him from limb to limb. He only leaned back, twirling a pen between his fingers, a picture of ease.

“You hurt me,” he feigned a frown, a hand holding his chest, the shirt creasing tantalizingly, before he was looking at you with cold, narrowed eyes, all playfulness disappearing. “I would never compromise my ethics.”

You snorted at his response, rolling your eyes as you crossed your arms. “Once a cheater, always a cheater.”

At your words, he was standing up, the rage in your glare mirrored in his. “You know I never fucking cheated!” he yelled, the pen in his grip breaking easily. It always endeared you how clumsy he usually was, how despite his usually delicate movements he was breaking things. This time however there were no delicate movements, his anger fuelling his stomps as he made his way over to you, jaw tensed and eyes turned to slits. “You never fucking listen! You never let me explain. Instead you run away. So fuck you!”

He was almost toe to toe with you, towering over you as he spoke the flurried words, and kickstarted your heart. You hated how the look in his eyes never failed to turn you on, but you forewent the thrumming of lust in your veins at his ridiculous retelling of the past.

“I don’t listen?” you snorted, your disbelief overshadowed by how angry you were. “What fucking excuse would you have to be sneaking away all the time? The secret phone calls? The early mornings when I knew you weren’t going into the office? I can’t believe I fell for you!”

He laughed at that, loud and bitter, shaking his head.

“I was gonna propose,” he said quietly, stepping away from you as his earlier wrath seemed to suddenly vanish, leaving only hurt in its wake. He shook his head as if to rid himself of the memories. “I took dance lessons too. You wanted a flash mob proposal, right?”

You felt your heart plummet, dropping to the floor, but you were nothing if not stubborn, holding onto your belief that Namjoon wasn’t for you. You had spent months trying to villainize him, a flowery confession was not going to sway you. You needed to protect your heart from his clutches again.

“Sure you were,” you said, and just like that his sad expression was morphing into rage again, jaw locking as he stared at you. “Just admit you never loved me, cheater.”

You didn’t know why you were antagonizing him, why you were refusing to believe his extremely plausible explanation. Perhaps it was that you never thought your relationship would last. Who would think that a public prosecutor and a defense attorney making well over six figures would last? It was meant to be doomed from the start. He made more than you made in a month during his lunch break. There was no way you were more than a placeholder till the person he was meant to be with came along.

Yet, the words had barely left your mouth before he was sealing it with his, hands cupping your face as he dove into you. Breathless, you couldn’t help reciprocating, months of pent up frustration and insecurity barrelling from you to his lips as he graciously swallowed all your moans. There was no prequel, no conversation, just both your hands clawing each other in an attempt to get impossibly close, buttons ripping to the ground in a muted clatter.

Before you knew it, you were pinned against his desk, his large hands lifting you to deposit you on the oak surface, lips leaving yours to nip at your jaw, your neck, your chest. It was an inferno unleashed as you gripped his hair, pushing the infuriating fabric of his shirt onto the floor as he did the same to yours.

You knew it was a bad idea to give in, but regardless of the alarms blaring in your head, you wanted more, you wanted him. Your skirt was carelessly pushed up to your waist as he kneeled in front of you like he had a hundred times before, teeth digging into the soft flesh of your thighs, blooming the skin into rose petals before he latched onto your clit – his only mission to make you unravel.

You had barely recovered from your high, muscles locked, sweat dripping down your spine, moans of his name still echoing through the room, when he was on top of you, pants haphazardly unzipped. You didn’t realize how much you missed the familiar weight of him on top of you, his chest pinning you down, his eyes ablaze as he gazed at you with such catastrophic intensity that you couldn’t help the whimper that escaped your lips.

With another searing kiss, he was inside you, your walls welcoming him home as a loud moan left him, only to be captured by you as you dove into him. You had missed the coffee on his tongue. It reminded you of the nights the two of you worked late together, case files cluttering your dining room table, blue for him, red for you. It reminded you of the mornings where you both had to rush, exchanging kisses in the car. Of the morning where you had all the time in the world and he put on his favorite song while you cooked breakfast. It reminded you of the casual way he had kissed you the first time, after months of secret glances in courtrooms, right next to the coffee cart in the courthouse lobby.

“Do you still think I never loved you?” he asked, his hips rendering you speechless as he looked at you full of an agony you wished upon him, but now wished you could erase. When you didn’t answer, he slowed his pace, his thumb caressing your cheek so gently you thought you’d break. But you had already broken, tears flowing that you never noticed, too busy missing him even when he was inside you.

“Answer me, darling,” he whispered, voice waterlogged as his eyes glistened in the sunlight flowing from his window. “Please… please believe me,” he pleaded, and you couldn’t help holding him close, letting him nuzzle his face in your neck.

“I believe you,” you murmured and the awestruck way he looked at you shattered your heart till his hips were resuming their feral pace, his fingers moving from where they were tangled in your hair to where your bodies met. He brought you to your peak, letting your secrets float into the air.

“I love you! I love you! I love you!”

The two of you chanted as if the three words would heal the distrust, make it disappear into the air, make all the months of heartbreak be worth it. And for a brief moment as you lost yourselves in each other they did, pushing you into a rosy bubble where nothing was wrong, where the two of you were still in the blissful honeymoon phase of three years ago, exchanging sneaky kisses in the courtroom bathrooms.

But when your breaths evened out, and your temperature returned to normal, all that was left was a mess – your clothes strewn everywhere, his cum between your legs, sweat drying much too slow on your bodies.

“I still love you,” he whispered, his body still on top of yours, arms pinning you to him in a vice grip. “I will always love you. Don’t you love me too?”

“I’ll always love you too,” you answered too easily, too honestly, because even though you knew you would never match up to rising superstar attorney Kim Namjoon, you couldn’t help the way your heart had hitched itself to his.

He sighed, relief sagging his body as he lifted himself from you, opting to forego the mess both of you had made and instead sitting on his desk and pulling you into his lap. You didn’t know if you had it in you to go back to him once more, but much like him, you were too weak to let go of the only person who ever made you feel whole.

-

If you liked this, checkout my masterlist! 🥰

[btscreatorscorner]

Almost

Summary: Yoongi almost didn't meet you. Yoongi almost let you go. Yoongi almost gave up. A little background story of my favorite domestic couple.

Pairing: Yoongi x wife OC

Rating: R, SFW

Genre: established relationship, idol!au, fluff

WC: 1.9k

Warning: pregnancy outside of marriage, some swear words, friends with benefits situation

A/N: I have been thinking about the background story of this couple for a while, and then @thebtswritersclub has the perfect prompt this February for to get my writing juices started! (prompt: almost) - Part of the Domestic Yoongi series -

Yoongi almost didn’t meet you.

After he had bought his first ever apartment in Seoul, he hired an interior designer to decorate it. His busy schedule unfortunately prevented him from being more hands on; so, he left his mother in charge of everything.

Until the designer herself insisted that he needed to be present at handover, and his mother refused to stand in for him anymore.

“You need to see how I’ve spent your money, or your father and I will never step foot  into that apartment again.” His mother threatened after he kept telling her he trusted her and her taste.

So, Yoongi finally agreed. After squeezing in an extended break time on the day of the handover, and with Namjoon and Seokjin tagging along, he made his way to the appointment. He scrunched his eyebrows when it was not the designer that was waiting for him, but rather, you.

“My boss had an emergency. I’m her assistant.” You explained.

“She’s been nagging me to meet her and now she’s bailed on me.” Yoongi grumbled.

“I’ll be sure to tell the baby in her belly to be more mindful of her schedule.”

Seokjin snorted in amusement at your response.

“Oh,” Yoongi stumbled, “I hope everything goes smoothly for her.”

You simply nodded, then started explaining what had been done to the apartment. You effortlessly showed them all the custom furniture, all the imported light fixtures, all the smart home appliances. With every word leaving your mouth Yoongi found himself feeling more interested in you and less in his apartment.

You answered Namjoon’s questions about sustainable hardwood furniture and about the design philosophy behind it. You tackled Seokjin’s lame dad jokes with a dry sense of humor, even managing to make him blush all the way to his ears once.

And in that short period of time Yoongi spent with you, he almost asked for your number.

But he didn’t. Because Namjoon had beaten him to it.

~

Yoongi almost missed his chance.

Yoongi knew Namjoon had gone on three dates with you, that he had even commissioned you to make a custom table for his new studio. Yoongi knew he should not get annoyed when Namjoon kept talking about you.

So when Yoongi asked for your number from Namjoon, and called you on the pretense that something was not working right, he should feel guilty. But he did not. Not when you were on your knees, dressed in a simple t-shirt and jeans, with a small toolbox by your feet, as you inspected the joinery in the walk-in wardrobe.

“Yoongi-ssi,” you stood up, “the glass door is fine. But if you find something else not working right, just let us know. We’ll come to check it out.”

Yoongi nodded.

“Is that it? I’ll show myself ou-”

“Are you dating Namjoon?”

You blinked, and Yoongi thought a tinge of pink appeared on your cheeks. “I, uh, no, I’m not.”

Yoongi felt flutterings in his stomach. “I thought things were going well.”

You cleared your throat. “Well, it’s really none of your business.”

“He’s my friend.”

“Then you ask him.”

You stared at him as you replied. He stared back, not willing to look away, but his heart skipped a beat when your eyes moved, ever so briefly, down from his eyes to his mouth. He saw you swallow, and the pink in your cheeks deepened.

He should not, he really should not. There was a code. He could not possibly put his own selfish needs before his friendship with Namjoon.

Yoongi took a deep breath, preparing himself for the question he was about to ask and the conversation he would have to have with Namjoon later that night.

“Do you want to have ramyeon with me?”

~

Yoongi almost let you go.

To Yoongi’s relief, Namjoon was cool with him seeing you; he felt you weren’t that into him anyway. So Yoongi started seeing you with a clear conscience.

Only, he wasn’t sure what it was he had with you. One, he barely had any time. Two, you were not clingy or needy, which Yoongi should be grateful for, but still it left a bitter taste in his mouth. Three, Yoongi spent more time fucking you than actually dating you. Four, you did not seem to mind that whatever you had with him was leading more and more to the friends with benefits territory. Five, Yoongi hated it.

Yoongi knew you deserved better. You deserved to be taken out on dates, to have your hand held in public, to be able to see him anytime you wanted to. But he could not give any of that. Meeting you had to be either at the dorm or at his apartment, and that was when he could find a sliver of breathing room in his schedule. He had to keep you a secret, and the worst thing was, you did not seem to mind at all. In your acceptance and understanding of his idol life, he felt you held yourself back to prevent your heart from getting in too deep. And it made Yoongi feel like shit.

One night, a mere month into the world tour, as he stared at his equipment all laid out in his hotel room, he started missing you like crazy. His invitation to fly you out to America or somewhere closer in Asia was still left unanswered. The darker side of his mind told him it was a sign you wanted out, and frankly, he couldn’t blame you. Maybe it was better that he ended everything with you. He couldn’t give you what you needed, not at this time in his life, at least.

The ringing of his phone brought him out of his meandering thoughts. He saw your name. Taking a deep breath, he pressed the green answer button, convincing himself that it was for the best, that you deserved a whole lot better than him.

Yoongi almost let you go, but he didn’t.

Because the first words you said to him were, “Yoongi, I’m pregnant.”

~

Yoongi almost gave up.

He knew the right thing to do was to marry you, but you kept turning him down.

Granted, the first time he proposed was downright terrible. After talking to Namjoon and their managers, accompanied by a bottle of whiskey, he ended up drunk calling you, telling you that he’d marry you, before throwing up half his stomach into a strategically situated dustbin by his bed.

The second time he proposed, he was much more sober, but not any less stupid. In one phone call he managed to inform you of a mountain of paperwork from the agency coming your way and then ended it with a marriage proposal. He was not surprised when your answer was, “We’ll talk about it when you’re home.”

The third time was when he was finally back in Seoul. Yoongi carried Soojin for the first time in his arms, and he sat in the corner of your studio apartment, fighting back tears of joy for his daughter but also full of remorse and regret that he had not been around to support you through your pregnancy and labour.

“We should get married,” he said softly as he watched his daughter sleep.

“Why?”

Yoongi raised his eyebrow at your reply, “Well, because we have a daughter.”

“I don’t want to get married just because we have a kid together. I know it’s the right thing for her, but is it for us?”

Well, shit. You got a point there.

The fourth time was a proposal of a different kind. He wanted to spend more time with you and Soojin;  whatever free time he had was precious, so he made his case to you on why you both should just move into his apartment. When you agreed, he was hopeful. After a few weeks, he wanted to ask you again to marry him but somehow he felt he was being too greedy. You and Soojin were living with him, he should be content for the time being.

The fifth time was on the eve of the start of another world tour. Yoongi was feeling especially melancholic leaving you and Soojin behind for nine months, especially as your relationship had grown exponentially. Since you had moved in, he got to see the real you, the vulnerable you, but also the strong and resilient you. He grew to respect you and he realised he had started to love you as well.

With Soojin fast asleep in her room, and your lips swollen and your breathing ragged from his kisses, Yoongi asked you. His heart sank when you simply stared back in response and moved yourself from under him.

“Still no?” Yoongi asked dejectedly.

“I don’t know, Yoon,” you whispered, voice shaky. “I love you, but I don’t want to be made to feel I have to marry you.”

He dropped his head onto his pillow, frustrated. He ended up arguing with you that night, and left the next day with just a brief and tense peck on your cheek. He felt like shit.

The sixth time he proposed, it was in New York. You and Soojin had visited with his and the other members’ parents, so you both took the rare opportunity to have a date night- which was simply a room service dinner in his room.

The dark thoughts were returning, hanging by the periphery of Yoongi’s mind. And combined with the memories of the fight before he left for tour, his insecurities threatened to rear their ugly heads.

“Yoon, I love you, you know that, right?”

“I know,” he replied, reaching for your hand to link his fingers with yours. You smiled at him, and the haze in his mind immediately started to clear.

“I just want to make sure we’re doing the right thing for ourselves.”

He nodded. “I know.”

He reached into the pocket of his sweatpants. You narrowed your eyes at him.

“Hobi took me to a jewelry designer in Chicago. May or may not have gotten something.”

“Min Yoongi…”

He tried to hold back his laughter at the way you were squirming. “I can only show you what it is if you say yes, though.”

You rolled your eyes at his teasing.

“So, do you want to marry me?”

“No!” You playfully smacked his arm. “I’ve made you wait this long, you can wait a bit longer!”

Yoongi laughed at your annoyed tone. But you were right, he was willing to wait for you.

It was during the band’s long awaited vacation that Yoongi thought of letting go of the idea of marriage altogether. He and you were going strong, Soojin was thriving, and he started to wonder if there really was a need to be married at all. It was not like you would love him any more or any less with a ring on your finger.

But the jewelry he had bought in Chicago continued to burn a hole in his pocket. He contemplated if he should give it one more try. The dinner date in New York many months before gave him some hope, so perhaps it was worth another shot.

“_______,” he murmured your name as you were reading in bed.

You looked up from your book, and he sat next to you.

“Let’s do it?” He asked for the seventh and last time, the final proposal.

You blinked at him a couple of times, before you realised what he meant. You took a deep breath, and he prepared himself.

“Okay.”

Yoongi almost gave up, but he should have known. Seven was the magic number.

-

Yoongi comes home just in time for dinner. Walking into his house, he finds Soojin reading about a sleepy wombat to her brother, Joowon. She pauses for a moment, tilting her head as she tries to read an unfamiliar word. She turns to her left, asking her invisible friend for help, then proceeds to reading the very word she was struggling with a moment ago flawlessly.

Yoongi sighs. Then, his attention is caught by the movement of two chubby legs kicking from a baby bouncer in front of his daughter. He smiles fondly as Soojin coos at Joowon.

He moves to the kitchen, where he finds you, ladle in one hand and your phone in the other, stirring the stew on the stove as you talk to- Yoongi assumes- your business partner about the rising costs of exporting your custom furnitures.

Yoongi leans back and watches you, with the sounds of his children in the background.

His home, his children, his wife- all the almosts in his life that led him to one definite certainty: love.

Please reblog if you enjoyed reading this fic!

Published 26022022. Crossposted to my AO3.

[btscreatorscorner]

Happy Birthday <3 — Becky

To: @beckysworld7 — On behalf of all our staff at BCC, happy birthday! We love and appreciate everything you've done for us as a mod and we hope you had an awesome birthday!

From: Levi — Happy birthday Becky!! I hope you have a great birthday and a great 2022! ✨ - Levi

From: Onyx — Happy Birthday Becky! You're one of the most talented and adorable people I know and you always seem to brighten up everyone's day with your sweet self <3<3 I wish you an amazing day and an even more amazing year ahead luv !!!

From: DeeDee — Happy Birthday Becky!!! I hope it is filled with lots of joy and happiness. Sending lots of love and positivity your way! - Dee

From: Marinette — Becky love! Happy Birthday!! I hope you have a blast! Here is for yet another going around the sun that is filled with nothing but the best1

From: Lexi — Hello hello hello! I know I haven’t been around as much on BCC but thank you so much for the help with the queue! It’s been great having you here in the net! Hope you had an amazing birthday

From: Ash — hey, becky!!! wish you the happiest birthday ever, babe! i hope this new year in your life goes better than all the previous ones. i hope you're happy, healthy and achieve all your goals! 🥺❤️ loads of love to ya! ❤️ - Ash

From: Elle — Happy birthday Becky! I know we haven’t talked much but I’ve definitely seen your work and it is just incredible! You are so talented! Seriously never give up. I wish you all the best in this new year and I hope we can get to know each other better. Love, Elle.

From: Jay — happy birthday becky!! wishing you all the best and i hope you’re staying safe and taking good care of yourself :D have a great day, youre amazing <333

From: Mei — Happiest birthday to you Becky! May the year ahead be full of sunshine and abundant blessings! 💜💜 - Mei

[btscreatorscorner]

06 | Legends of Darlaria

⨰ summary: You wake up amidst a war with no recollection of your past. Faced with suspicion and distrust, you struggle to assimilate into a foreign nation—otherwise known as your home. But on your enlightening journey to search for your identity, you come face to face with the General of the Army.

⨰ pairing/rating: yoongi x reader & jungkook x reader | PG-15

⨰ genre: 70% angst, 30% fluff | war!au & magic!au

⨰ warnings: mentions of death

⨰ wordcount: 6.3k

⨰ join the taglist! (pm/send in an ask/reply/reblog)

⨰ a/n: thank you to @the-berry-named-ari for beta-reading <3

⨰ previous | series m.list | next

⧖⧗Circa Zircon⧗⧖

Wintertime finally catches up to Alder. Blankets of snow cover the grass, even decorating the tops of the scarlet tents scattered about the terrain. Soldiers stay inside their homes, lighting their own fires and rubbing their hands together to keep warm. Snow falls steadily from above, veiling the last of the autumn colors with whiteness.

But the cold does not stop the war.

With a swift movement of your hand, you splay out your latest battle plans, the various papers fluttering for a second before settling down on the wooden table—spread out, like a falcon’s wings.

You clear your throat, delicately placing the back of your hand over your mouth as you do so. “There’s a lot to go over today,” you say. The officers nod, agreeing with your words. As per your routine, you survey each and every one of them, taking a mental note of their facial expressions and attitudes for the day.

Strange.

There’s a face missing in the crowd.

You wonder what kind of emergency made Captain Im miss a very mandatory officer meeting. Maybe the General sent her on another trip to Elu for whatever reason he found important. Or maybe she’s running a little late. The meeting’s only been going on for a few minutes. Maybe she has some last-minute fourth sector business to take care of. Or maybe she’s healing in the medical tent? But if she was, the General would’ve announced something at the beginning of the meeting.

You glance at him, and to your surprise, your eyes meet. He looks at you expectantly—as if he’s waiting for you to say something.

It’s then that you realize that you’re supposed to be presenting your battle plans. Awkwardly, you clear your throat again. “S-So! Um, yes, first and foremost, if we can get some earth mediums here,” you say, tracing a particular formation with your index finger, “then we could—”

“Forgive me for interrupting!” A red-faced Captain Im rushes into the central tent.

So there she is.

Her jet black hair, which is usually neatly combed, is in visible disarray as she pants, trying to catch her breath. She waves a cream-colored paper—a letter in the air.

Everyone pauses to stare at her, wide-eyed.

“A message?” the General asks.

You cock your head. Who could it be from? It must be important enough to get Captain Im—who is usually exceptionally calm—teeming with excitement. Her eyes sparkle as she uncharacteristically slams the paper on the wooden table. The movement causes some of your battle plans to disperse across the table, but nobody minds. Instead, everyone leans in synchronously to squint at the writing etched onto the letter. “A message from the Darlaean General!” Captain Im announces. “They’ve agreed to call a temporary truce for the rest of winter!”

You blink. You blink again. Then you’re suddenly gasping with happiness, along with your fellow officers. Someone pats your back and another person links their arm around yours. Others are crowding around and hugging Captain Im for delivering the news. Some even cry tears of joy. It surprises you to see so much emotion on their faces. The officers are usually so incredibly stoic—so stern and serious. Through the corners of your eyes, you catch Major Ki and Captain Chu sharing a passionate kiss, and you even see Captain Yoo slapping Captain Chang on the back while grinning so hard that you can see his whisker dimples. But you suppose that they’re just as human as everyone else. When someone bears good news, and the news is as good as this, they can’t help but celebrate.

The battle plans are long forgotten.

“They’ve never accepted our offers before!” Doyun exclaims as she tightens her grip on your arm. She looks incredibly happy, eyes wide and sparkling as her mouth sets in a wide grin.

Never? Amidst the celebration, you begin to wonder… Are they only accepting a temporary truce now that they’re losing? If so, what will it take for them to agree on a permanent truce?

The cheering officers begin to lift Captain Im up on their shoulders, and that action alone brings you back to reality.

You let out a small sigh. This is the time to celebrate; there’s no place for doubt.

So you join the happy crowd, a semi-worry-free smile on your face.

The night before the soldiers are permitted to visit their families back home, there is a feast. Rumor has it that the General pulled some strings and brought over the king’s chefs from Elu. There are piles and piles of steaming rice, heavy pots of spicy soups and endless bowls of delectable side dishes. Soldiers eat until they can consume no more. But they drink like their stomachs are bottomless pits. They stumble about inside the large medical tent, drunk smiles on their faces, slapping their friends’ backs and talking loudly over each other.

You spot Doyun playing a competitive game of cards with some of the other officers. It looks like they’ve bet some solarins too because there’s no way kind Major Hyun would be yelling across the table at poor Major Ahn like that if there weren’t a couple of coins involved. You smile a little and fix your gaze toward a group of healers (including Namjoon) in deep discussion. But with their swaying bodies, red, sedated faces and empty bowls, you really doubt that anyone there is cognizant enough to have a coherent string of thought. Even so, you like to imagine that they’re talking about their families, whom they’ll be going home to see tomorrow. You can’t imagine how happy they must be. And you’re happy for them, too.

The feelings of jealousy you’ve felt during the last celebration are gone. Because this time, you have a home too. It might not be your alleged birthplace of Elu, but it’s a place where you feel safe. A place where you seem to know best. A place that you can proudly call home.

“Now, what are you doing, Y/N??”

You jump a little, startled to find Hana waving a loaf of bread right in front of you. One look at her and you know she’s drunk, which is surprising considering the fact that she’s a heavy drinker. She must’ve had at least ten bowls of Takju.

“You’re just standing in the corner watching everyone!” she yells. “Come out and have some fun! Grab a drink and some bread!” She boops your nose with the end of her loaf.

Giggling, you shake your head. “But I like standing in the corner.” Besides, you’re too sober to walk up to complete strangers and strike up a fascinating conversation with them that they’ll inevitably forget in the morning.

Hana makes a face. “Who the hell likes standing in the corner during a celebration?” she says, flinging her arms out dramatically. Consequently, the loaf of bread flies out of her hand and rockets straight into a crowd of soldiers.

There’s a small thump! and someone yells out a displeased, “Hey!”

Hana’s eyes grow wide as she looks around in panic. “Oh no.”

She grasps your hands, hers instantly warming your colder ones. But you feel that shock again. The same, strange feeling from before. It washes over your entire body, drenching it in a strange, staticky sensation. But before you can really comprehend what this could possibly mean, Hana pulls away.

“I have to run,” she says. “No. No. That would be silly. Why would I run away from that very obviously angry soldier? No. I have to find that loaf of bread. You know how rare a good loaf of bread is around here? The last time I’ve had some good bread was a week ago when you brought some back from Elu.” She smiles, her head lolling to the side as she looks at you. A strand of her dark hair falls in front of her face, and she waves her hand, the wind following her lead and moving it out of the way. “I appreciate you, Y/N,” she says. “I’m going to miss you.”

You snort. “You’ll be back by Circa Garnet, Hana.”

Her button nose wrinkles. “That’s too far away. I’d rather fight!” She pumps her fist in the air. “I’m going to fight until we win this damn war!” And before you can even react, she gasps. “My bread! I’ve got to go! Goodbye, Officer Ryu!” Hana gives you a ninety-degree bow (nearly falling over while doing so), and then quickly rushes to find her loaf of bread somewhere in the crowd of drunk soldiers.

You watch her leave, amused by how much someone can change with some alcohol in their system. It makes you wonder how you would be perceived if you were drunk. But that thought isn’t too pleasant.

After your encounter with Hana, you begin to survey the vast medical tent, eyes shifting through the soldiers and healers and officers to find anyone you recognize. There, around the middle of the tent, you find Hyojung and Captain Im dancing passionately in what looks like an unofficial official dance battle. There’s Jeonwoo on the sidelines, cheering Hyojung on, and quite a crowd of young soldiers chanting for Captain Im’s victory. Even stoic Captain Yoo looks content for once.

“Captain’s quite the dancer, isn’t she?”

You don’t recognize that voice, so you turn around to see an attractive woman, leaning on one leg and crossing her arms over her chest. With her wavy, brown hair and cat-shaped eyes, she emanates confidence and allure. You reason that she must be a soldier, judging from her uniform. She doesn’t seem so drunk, but there’s a flirtatious look in her eye, and you can’t seem to look away.

“I didn’t know Captain Im could dance like that,” you reply with a polite smile.

“She’s a jack-of-all-trades,” the woman replies. “But I’ve heard the same about you.”

Your eyebrows raise. “You have?”

“A prodigy rivaling Captain Im’s intellect,” she says with a smirk. “A soldier one circa and an officer the next. I’m impressed, sir.”

“Um… thank you.”

She laughs and tosses her hair back behind her shoulder. “You can be more arrogant than that, Officer. It’s more attractive when someone knows their worth.”

You blink rapidly, processing her words before making a comment of your own. “Then I suppose you know your worth quite well.”

“Oh, I do.” She grins. “I know my worth very well.”

How strange.

Is this what they call flirting?

In that case, there is no doubt about it that she’s interested in you. And sure, you may be interested, too. But why does this feel so… so foreign? And it’s not just foreign; it doesn’t feel right. Not because you don’t find her attractive—she, indeed, knows her worth—but because this is a war. You’ve seen how many times a couple is torn apart. How many times a soldier mourns over the death of their lover. You don’t want that pain. Nor are you ready to dedicate yourself to someone, only to have them torn away from you.

But there you go again, overthinking about everything when there was practically nothing said. This is just what they call ‘casual flirting.’ And if you’re understanding that correctly, it’s a fun, one-time thing. So you’re definitely getting ahead of yourself. But then again, do you really want to have such a fleeting connection with a dedicated soldier in the army? Wouldn’t it be awkward if this were a one-time thing, and the next time you see each other, one of you is dead? In fact, it wouldn’t be just awkward. It’d be fucking miserable.

The soldier notices your hesitation, which you may or may not have made very obvious. And to your relief, she grins, shrugging her shoulders. “It’s all right, Officer. We can’t all be interested in love and war.” Before you can say anything, she bows slightly, that alluring grin still on her face. “Then I suppose I’ll see you around, sir. The alcohol is calling me.” She’s gone so quickly—slipping into the crowd—that it almost feels like your encounter had been a dream.

But she’s right. And she was right to leave, too. You’re definitely not interested in love and war. How can you be? You’re married to the idea of creating battle plans and nursing injured soldiers back to health. What do you know about love, anyway? You only know sacrifice when it comes to your nation. But how do you sacrifice your heart for a partner? How do you cope with the fact that someone will want to sacrifice themselves for you? And what about the necklace?

Oh, the necklace.

It had slipped your mind for circas and circas. The only piece of evidence of your past. How fast your present must’ve moved for you to forget such a core detail of your old identity. So what about the person who gifted you the necklace? You should wait for them. But what if they’re dead? Would they have wanted you to move on?

But why are you so fixated on this fantasy anyway? You already thought of it yourself that you’re not one for love and war. Now as a Solarian Officer, you’ve dedicated yourself to the army, to the people, to the General. This is the new you.

But what about the old you? Are you going to abandon her, just like that?

It’s too much. Your thoughts begin to suffocate you. Though your surroundings are festive, you can’t seem to match the atmosphere. While soldiers are drinking away their problems, you seem to be giving yourself more by doing your usual overthinking. So you find reprieve by escaping into the night.

The winter air is cold, nipping at your exposed skin. You shiver, wandering into the darkness. The moon hides behind thick clouds, and only a few stars have come out to greet the night. The icy frost on the grass leaves wet prints on your thick uniform, goosebumps dotting your skin.

It’s cold, yet you feel oddly calm—an overwhelming contrast from the loud, hotness of the tents. Out here, you feel like you can breathe.

Further and further you wander into the darkness. You’re not sure why, but your legs persistently carry you forward. Out here, your thoughts are clear, no longer muddy and tangled and twisted. Out here, you feel free. You feel adventurous. The darkness, for some reason, fuels your desire to explore. And before you know it, you’ve wandered past the tall grass and just at the edge of the great, dark forest.

But then, there is light.

You see the amber glow coming from behind the trees, casting a dark shadow over the ground. It is the same brightness you remember seeing in the forest when you and the General were riding to Elu just a week ago. The swift brightness that had disappeared when you’d blinked. But this time, even when you blink, the mysterious light stays.

You take a step forward.

It takes a step forward.

And soon, you realize the amber glow is not just a light but an animal.

A tiger.

Your eyes widen as it reveals itself from behind the tall trees. It’s majestic. Warm.

The tiger burns, scarlet flames emanating from its entire body, yet never scorching anything around it. It stands tall, gazing up at you with sparks in its kind eyes.

You feel entranced. Hands carefully outstretched, you begin to walk slowly towards the tiger, and it lets you. Calmly waits for you to reach it. And once you’re in close proximity, it bows its head. As if it wants you to touch it. You stare at the orange flames blazing on its fur, hand hovering right over it. It seems dangerous. Why would you stick your hand into fire? But then again, there’s something about this tiger that calls to you. Something that feels safe. Something that doesn’t seem logical and all but still feels right.

Your hand falls onto the flames. But it’s warm, and the light casts pretty shadows on your arm. You run your fingers down the tiger’s head, petting its soft fur. It lets out a gentle huff, nuzzling into your hand.

So this is a sol. A fire sol. A sol that found you. They’re free animal spirits, supposed to roam about Solaria’s vast lands. But why has this one come to you? Has it been watching you? And why do you feel so calm and safe around it?

The tiger huffs contentedly as if to tell you he appreciates the attention he’s getting. Then, he—not an it—stands up, his head reaching just a little above your waist. His bright eyes speak to you. As if to tell you that he’s been waiting in the cold for you.

“Well then, I hope you didn’t wait for long,” you whisper, scratching behind his ear.

The tiger huffs again.

“I… I’m just… I needed some air.”

Why does it feel like you’ve known him forever?

“Have we met before?”

But the tiger raises his blazing paw, leaving your question unanswered. You begin to think taking his paw in your hand will help you understand something, but then you realize the sol has been trying to point behind you. “Oh. Oh. Something’s behind me?” Quickly, you turn around to see—

“Sir!”

“I see that you’ve met another sol,” the General says. He walks closer to you and the tiger, seeming oddly accustomed to the animal. “This one here is the physical embodiment of fire. He’s known to wander around Alder’s woods.”

But you’re barely able to hear his words. “Sir, I’m surprised to see you here. You’re the General that led hundreds of battles the past several circas. I thought you’d be celebrating your victories.”

You didn’t think anyone else would have wanted to forgo an excellent celebration for some alone time outside. Besides, you and the General have barely exchanged words since your trip to Elu together. Why is he suddenly approaching you, anyway?

“I don’t like to celebrate doing my duty,” the General replies without missing a beat. He stares behind you, at the blazing tiger, and shrugs. “With your logic, you should be celebrating too, Officer. You were the one who came up with our most successful battle plans.”

You cock your head. “Maybe I don’t like to celebrate doing my duty either, sir.”

The General makes a noise that sounds somewhat like a laugh and a snort. But he shakes his head, instead. “The sol seems to take a liking to you.”

As if to prove the General’s words, the tiger nuzzles you again, then sits down right next to you. “I like him too,” you say, reaching down to pat his blazing fur.

“He must see your potential to wield fire,” the General says. “Or he’s gotten tired of roaming about the forest alone.”

You smile, kneeling down to scratch behind the tiger’s ear. Its warmth seems to melt your insides, making the same kind of heat emanating from your body. “It’s a good thing that we can keep him company for tonight.”

The General raises his eyebrows. And for a second, you think he might say something on the lines of, ‘Well, maybe you can keep him company, but I’m going to go not celebrate my duty somewhere else.’ But the next thing you know, he’s kneeling down too, sitting cross-legged on the grass straight across from you. When you look at him in surprise, your eyes meet, his dark ones reflecting the red flames of the tiger. However, he quickly looks away and clears his throat. “I suppose you won’t be leaving camp tomorrow.” Then, he looks even more embarrassed that he had said anything.

You shrug your shoulders. “I don’t really have anywhere to go,” you say. You gaze up to the sky, watching the sparse stars sparkling in the distance. “Besides, as far as I know, Alder is my home.” Your gaze falls down to the man sitting in front of you. “And what about you, sir?”

Will he go back to Aithne, his homesector? Just to visit? But visit who, exactly? He’s the last of his bloodline… Does that mean he will stay here with you?

The General shakes his head, an unreadable look on his face. “Alder is my home as well.” He finally looks up, the brightness of the tiger’s flames and the shadows dividing his features in half. And this time, he doesn’t look away. Instead, he stares into your eyes—curiously. “You don’t like to drink, do you, Officer?”

It’s a question that catches you off guard. “Drink? I mean, I just… I don’t want to be perceived in a way that I cannot control,” you admit sheepishly. “I also get the impression that some drink to forget, but I don’t want to forget any more than I already have, sir.”

“Being in control, huh?” he says. He seems to nod to himself as if to fully digest your words. “I really do wonder where you were after all these years. Why you didn’t join the army sooner when you’ve got the talent and personality. But,” he says, back slouching as his hands graze the cold grass, “don’t you believe that it’s thanks to your memory loss that you’re now my officer?”

You cock your head. “That’s also very true,” you say. But for a split second, your thoughts flit to the abandoned necklace in your tent. Yet you shake those thoughts away. “Then I’m very lucky to be able to work with such talented people.”

The General smiles, his features glowing in warm light. “And we’re lucky to work with you.”

You shake your head though smiling at his compliment. “I’m pretty sure if you knock anyone out hard enough that they lose their memories, they’ll voice the same polarizing ideas that I have. It’s just something about not being able to remember anything that makes you feel like you have nothing to lose.”

The General’s eyes sparkle in amusement. “Hm… Nothing to lose,” he echoes. “Isn’t that quite a mindset?”

“It is.”

“Then you must be ready for the new year, Officer,” the General says. “It may seem peaceful now, but we’ll go right back to fighting in the next circa. Nothing to lose, huh?” He shakes his head. “You must not be afraid of death.”

“I feel like I should be,” you say, leaning back against the warm tiger who huffs happily in response. “But I don’t remember who I’ve loved, and I’m starting to think whoever they were—if they even existed at all—they’re already gone. So it doesn’t matter, I guess. If I die, no one will feel like they died with me.”

“Together, love and war is dangerously precarious, anyway,” the General says in agreement. “Do you wish you remembered, though? At least their face? Maybe faces?”

It takes you a moment to realize he’s talking about your past lover, or lovers, as he phrases it. “I’m not sure,” you reply. “It could be both a blessing and an agony to know.”

The General nods. “Forgive me if that was too personal.”

“It’s fine,” you say, then you grin, an idea lighting up your mind. “I can ask you a personal question, sir. Maybe it will cancel out.”

He snorts. “If you’d like.”

“Are you afraid of death?”

The General visibly grimaces. You raise your eyebrows. “I’m sorry, was that too personal?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “I just didn’t want my answer to kill the mood.”

The mood? Is he referring to the quiet calmness of being outside? Or the exhilarating curiosity you’re sensing that you have towards each other? Either way, the General likes the current atmosphere, and he’s cautious enough to not want to ruin it. You find that rather interesting.

“I’m sure we can manage,” you reply. “One answer won’t kill the mood, will it?”

The General seems to think. Then: “I suppose I agree with you. In that case, the short answer is no.”

“Looks like we have something in common.” You grin. “Do you mind divulging to me the long answer, sir?”

There’s a short, deliberate pause, where the General makes it quite obvious that he is in deep pondering, his forehead wrinkling and his posture worsening. But he finally decides to answer in the end. “My death will inevitably bring the burden of leading the Solarian Army on another person. I’m not afraid of death itself, but I’m very wary about the effects of my leave.”

“See, sir? That didn’t kill the mood. You were just being thoughtful and honest,” you say, smiling. “I also don’t think we’ll die anytime soon. So there’s nothing to worry about.”

“Not die anytime soon?” the General says. “Pray tell why you think so, Officer.”

Your fingers also graze the ice-cold grass, playing with the droplets of water before looking up to answer. “Because we’re going to crack the code. We’re already almost halfway there. I’m starting to think they’ll have a new code for every circa. It’s to the point that I’m wondering what the next word will be.”

The General nods. “I wonder, too.”

“Sir? Can I ask you another personal question?”

His eyes sparkle. Yes, losing your memories makes you feel like you have nothing to lose at all. His other soldiers wouldn’t dare be as upfront toward him as you are. “Are you going to inquire about my love life, next?” he asks half-jokingly.

You pretend to think. “Though that sounds tempting, I was really going to ask what your reason to fight is, sir. And I realize I never told you my reason, either, though I did tell you that you helped me find it.”

“Then why don’t you tell me your reason?” the General says.

“But sir! I asked you first.”

“And I’ll answer you after you tell me,” he responds, smiling. “Did I not help you find your reason?”

“Well, I suppose it’s nothing to hide,” you sigh, yet clearly amused. “But I did want the advantage of going last for the shock value.”

He snorts. “If it were a shocking reason, then it should shock me regardless of the order we share it.”

“Fine then. I fight for the end of this war.”

“The end?” He sounds incredulous, eyes slightly wide as he stares at you. As if you’d just uttered the impossible. You’ve shocked him all right.

“I know it sounds preposterous,” you say, attempting to explain yourself. “But even if I end up dying in the process, I want my efforts to have brought us just a step closer to the end. And it’s stupid.”

“Stupid?”

“It’s stupid that we fight for peace.”

“Of course it’s stupid,” the General says to your surprise. “But what better way is there to measure our egos?”

You scoff. “Do the Darlaeans even know that they’re fighting a nation run by a child?”

“They don’t,” the General replies. “If they did, they would be out for blood. More than they already are.”

It doesn’t make sense. Why not leave the Solarians alone? Why not embrace peace? “Why do they hate us so much?” you say. “I don’t understand.”

“The Darlaeans?” the General asks. “It’s because they love power. They can’t stand the thought of their ancestors abandoning Darlaean magic for elemental wielding because that would imply that Darlaean magic is not enough. If they win, Solaria will die.”

“Then we can’t possibly let them win.”

The General nods. “It’s why I fight for our freedom.”

“Freedom…” It sounds so nice saying it out loud.

“I’ll sacrifice anything so we can be a free nation with free people,” the General says. “Because like you, Y/N, I have very little to lose.”

“I guess we have more in common than I first thought,” you say, absentmindedly reaching back to pet the tiger. The sol huffs happily, his tail swishing in the cold air. “Truth be told, though, you scared me a lot when I first met you.”

You’re not sure what’s prompting you to be so honest in this hour. Maybe it’s the secure warmth of the fire sol behind you. Or maybe it’s the serene atmosphere of the night. Or maybe it’s the General who gazes at you like you’re the most interesting person he’s ever had the pleasure of talking to.

“I can’t blame you,” he answers, the corners of his lips twitching upward. “I shouldn’t have been so brash.”

“It’s okay,” you say. “I know that it’s all a façade. I’ve seen how you act with children.”

The General snorts. “You’re peculiar.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you. Would I have been talking to the sol behind you?”

“Well… it could have been a possibility. But how so? How am I peculiar, that is?”

“I don’t know… You just are.” But he does know. Well, he has a small idea. You walk without weight on your shoulders. You talk with a sparkling glint in your eye. You approach him like you and he are acquaintances. You talk to him like he’s your friend. But you treat everyone the way you treat him. You’re a master battle planner, yet you think the war is stupid. You’re intimidating when you want to be, but when you smile, your face lights up and you begin to glow. You’re kind to the people who do not like you, but you can be mean when somebody pushes you too far. You showed up on his campground memoryless and innocuous, yet you’ve somehow made it as an officer. You’re an enigma.

Across from him, you get an inkling that the General knows exactly how you are peculiar. But you realize he must feel a little awkward verbalizing it. Or maybe he wants to keep being the enigma that he is. “You’re peculiar, too,” you say. “Very peculiar.”

His eyebrows raise. “How so?”

“I don’t know,” you echo with a grin. “You just are.”

He rolls his eyes. “Must you always repeat what I say?”

“Yes, but unlike you, I’ll actually elaborate,” you say, laughing at the General’s exasperated expression. “You’re an interesting balance of authoritative but receptive. You’re intimidating, but you know, when you smile, your whole face does this thing where it lights up. Maybe it’s the fire medium in you? You’re graceful yet awkward. You’re a leader but you also know how to follow. You’re my superior, but you treat me like we’re equals. Maybe like we’re acquaintances. Is that enough?”

The General is rendered a little speechless. You think the same of him when he smiles like he does when you smile. How peculiar.

“That’s more than enough. And for the record,” he says, “we are equals. Everyone in this camp stands on the same level. My life costs the same as everyone else’s. And…” he trails off, unable to help the grin that stretches across his lips. “Am I really that awkward?”

You laugh, shaking your head at his question and refusing to answer. “You’re lighting up again.”

“It must be because I enjoy your company.”

The General? Enjoys your company? You’re so shocked that you accidentally utter a: “Who wouldn’t?” It’s so out-of-character that even the General’s eyes widen at your words.

“I mean! I enjoy your company, too. Sir,” you quickly add. “I don’t know why I’m acting so inebriated. I haven’t had a single bowl of Takju.”

The General smiles. “It’s the atmosphere.”

Again, you’re not too sure what he means by this. The atmosphere of the night? The cold winds juxtaposed with the warmth emanating from the fire tiger? Or the atmosphere between the two of you? Either way, you don’t get an answer because there’s someone calling for the General, waving at the entrance of the main medical tent.

“General! I’ve been looking for you! We want you to make a toast!”

The General meets your eyes. And for a second, you see disappointment in them. But that emotion is gone the next time you blink. Quickly, he stands up. “Would you like to come?”

Oh, would you? You hesitate. Do you really want to go back in that stuffy tent?

Besides, you have a fire sol willing to keep you company for the night. If you leave now, you’re not sure if you’ll ever see him again. The tiger, sensing your predicament, huffs, rubbing his head against you. It helps you make your decision.

“I’ll stay, sir,” you say. “I don’t know when I’ll see him again.”

The General nods. “Don’t stay out too late, then.” He looks at you one last time—as if something’s on the very tip of his tongue. But he turns at the last second and walks away.

You watch him leave, huddling closer to the fire tiger.

What an interesting conversation you just had with the General. The more you get to know about him, the more you come to admire his character. And the more you want to uncover.

He said he has little to nothing to lose. It makes sense. How would it feel to be the very last of your bloodline, knowing your death would be a bigger deal than you’d like? Who has he lost that makes him the person he is today? What kind of past does he have for him to take on such a burdening role? What makes him want to fight for the freedom of Solaria?

You reach behind to scratch the tiger’s ear, and he huffs, nuzzling into your hand. “I should stop overthinking, huh?”

His tail thumps on the ground in agreement.

“It’s so beautiful tonight,” you sigh. “It feels like everything that’s happened so far—from the moment I woke up in that medical tent to right now—is a dream. I’ve learned so many things. Met so many great people—and animals,” you add with a laugh. “It sounds silly, but this almost seems too good to be true. I know we’re in the middle of a war, but there’s no way my past life was better than this. I’ve become a better person after I lost all my memories. Maybe… Maybe it’s time to really let go. Embrace that this is the new me.”

You close your eyes, taking in the crisp air and breathing out slowly. “I don’t want my old memories anymore.” It feels great to finally admit it. Your eyes open wide, a new kind of determination set in them. “Thinking about my past always weighs me down. And I don’t want that anymore. I don’t need my old memories to reconnect with fire. Hell, I can make new memories for that. I think I can relearn. I want to fight. I want to become a fire medium again.”

The tiger’s tail thumps rapidly on the ground—as if he is cheering you on.

“Thanks,” you say, smiling. “Do you have a family to go to? Am I keeping you away from them?”

The tiger paws at the air, and you interpret that as a no. “Are you going to keep me company for the night?”

He snorts—a happy-sounding yes.

You smile. “Thank you.”

With your fingers tangled in the tiger’s burning mane, you watch the nighttime clouds grace the sky, floating slowly to their next destination. The warmth against your back, the honey-colored flames of the sol and the quiet tranquility of the outside world begin to soothe you. Your eyelids feel heavy and your breaths start to slow. You fall asleep with the midnight sky gazing over you, and the blazing tiger keeping you guarded.

In a few hours, you awake along with the chimes of the water clock. It’s still early, the fog hiding away the dawn light, but you find that there’s something soft and bright supporting your back. When you turn around, you see the fire tiger. He’s awake too, staring at you with his round eyes.

“You stayed.”

He snorts as if you’d just uttered the obvious, which you sort of did.

“I just thought I wasn’t going to see you again,” you say. “You can go if you want. You’re not obligated to stay.”

The tiger lets out a soft growl as if he disagrees. He stares at you, mane blazing even in the early morning hours. His stare makes you feel like electricity coursing through your entire body. Again, there’s that feeling inside of you. That feeling where you swear you’ve seen him before. But that doesn’t matter anymore.

The moment right now is what counts.

With reinvigorated energy, you stand up with the tiger. Placing a hand on his back, you look around at the vast Alder territory. It’s so early that no one has come out of their tents yet. Gray fog weaves between the scarlet homes, and a wintry breeze still permeates the air, but for the most part, it looks like the frost from last night has melted. The scenery feels so raw, and the barrenness feels so intense. You feel the determination again. The passion and the ambition.

You take a deep breath of the fresh air. It stings your nose but you feel so awake. So alive.

“It’s a new day,” you say. “Are you ready for it?”

The tiger takes a step forward, tail swaying from side to side. He throws you a happy look with his soft eyes reflecting the flames of blazing fires. Then, he roars. The sound shakes the trees, reverberating across the land and stirring those who had been asleep. He roars and it wakes you up, too. You feel amazing. Like you’ve woken up from an amazing night’s sleep and came across a thousand epiphanies.

For Sooht’s sake. You’ve never felt so good before.

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⨰ a/n: i've been balancing a social life with clubs, research and classes and it's been a little difficult 😭 please bear with me (and my characters LOL). i hope you like this new chapter because things are going to be picking up from here! 👀

please consider telling me your thoughts with a comment, an ask or a reblog :) i love hearing readers' impressions/rambles/predictions! if you want to join the taglist, send in a private message, ask, reply to this post or reblog with your request!

⨰ taglist: @shrimpmsg @chimchiekookie @eternita3 @staerryminimini @yunkichiee

[btscreatorscorner]

night shift - JHS, MYG

it’s Hoseok’s birthday, and Yoongi has the perfect gift in mind.

or after Yoongi’s assistant decides to go on vacation during the busy season, Hoseok asks if you could assist his friend until she gets back. One favor turns into two and before you know it, your relationship that was once professional turns into something more.

༄moodboard

pairing — yoongi x milf!reader x hoseok

genre/rating — R | fluff, smut, slight angst, office au, pwp

word count — 8.3K

warnings/tags — secretary!reader, single mom!reader, same au as ‘bonus,’ strong language, manhandling, curvy reader, hoseok is just 🥺, they’re both very persuasive & in love with reader bc she’s that bitch, reader has a kid, mentions of financial difficulties, allusions to mental health issues, mentions of alcohol, mentions of cigarette smoking, they lowkey bicker for her attention, sope synchronization mhm, possess hobi, explicit smut — threesome smut, voyeurism, spit kink, bit of a sir kink, breast kink, body worship, dirty talk, fingering, oral (f & m), finger sucking, name calling, throat fucking, cum eating, biting/scratching, mentions of bruising, hair pulling, nipple play, overstimulation, spit roast, unprotected sex, multiple positions, multiple orgasms, spanking, masturbation (m), cum shots

a/n — hobi’s bday fic 🤩 this sope threesome was highly requested by myself

✩ written for the Suit & Ties Sope Collab hosted by @hobisuniverse & @sugakookitty ✩

Min Yoongi.

The silver lettering stares back at you, trying to gather the courage before you reach out and press down the handle. 

Keep reading

[btscreatorscorner]

Growing pains

Summary: Growing up the daughter of the boss of a gang is never easy, but normally the problems are around being given too many responsibilities, or the risk of being connected to a gang leader, or wanting to escape but not being able to. But you’ve got a different problem, you want more responsibility, want to be like your brother who’s been named heir, want a role in the family gang. Your whole life you’ve been denied what you want, being born a female seemingly your main issue; perceived as weak, naïve, trying to step above your station. But as unsupportive and dismissive as your family is, there is always the bright light that is Jimin; the boy you love but can never have.

Pairing: Jimin x reader

Genre: Unrequited love; brothers’ best friend; mafia au; fluff; angst

Word count: 15.6k

Warnings: Angsty feelings, unrequited feelings, Jimin uses the nickname Princess, there’s a ‘minor’ character death, blood, feelings of shock, misogyny, the story flicks between ages, there’s a five year age gap, I guess just lots of things you’d imagine from a gang/mafia fic but overall it’s also not that dark.

Authors Note: I know, I know, another gang fic, I just can’t help myself. I hope you enjoy this one :)

You can’t remember when you first met Park Jimin, can’t remember what the situation was or what your first feelings towards him were. He’s always been in your life. A constant figure. Your brothers best friend and confident.

For as long as you’ve lived and been conscious of the world, you’ve been in love with Jimin.

Maybe your feelings grew slowly, or maybe it was like a switch, one day waking up and realising that you like him a little more than the brother like figure he was supposed to be. You’re not sure, because whichever it was, it was so long ago that you’ve long forgotten. All you have ever known is the increase in heart rate when he’s near you, the flush of heat to your skin, the way your thoughts go haywire, and you don’t act quite right. It’s all you’ve ever known around him. Or at least all you can remember.

At the start maybe it was nerves, this dominant figure in your life, someone everyone around you feared, even despite his young age. But as you grew and got to know him, you realised he couldn’t hurt a fly. Well, he definitely could, in fact you know he had killed men before, but you at least knew he would never hurt you. And that brought on a whole other swath of problems.

Your brother’s best friend. Someone high up in the gang. Someone who kills people and does hideous acts calling it his job.

Keep reading