#daechwita

[sugar-petals]

i cried at the fact that to some people yoongi is the clark kent of k-pop??? 😭

[anpanmann]

countdown to yoongi’s return

d-1 ♡ 대취타 (daechwita) ✦ live clip

[thatgoddamngingerundercut]

BTS Memories of 2020 Daechwita MV Making Film cr. 0613data

[likeawildflower]

[dasisugarun]

163 days before yoongi is back we are so fxcking close 475/638

[miidniightthoughts]

Gloria Regali • part 1

→ Pairing: Yoongi x reader (female)

→ AU/Genre(s): series, mature, royal

→ Rating: mature/explicit (this is mature/explicit content, so you have been warned.)

→ Word count: 2.2k

The morning sun filtered through the ornate latticework, painting intricate patterns on the stone floor of the chamber. Daegu, bustling with anticipation for her coronation. Yet, inside her, there lay a tangible silence, heavy with unspoken words and unresolved tensions.

Y/n  sat on the embroidered covers. She had not slept much last night. She had listened to the faint preparations going on outside the palace walls since dawn.

Today, she would be crowned queen. Despite the grandeur of her title, her soul remained tangled in a net of turmoil, born from last night’s encounter.

The arrogance of the man.

After the wedding banquet she was taken to her bed chamber and there she waited for him. Her entire body froze, but only for a moment before she regained her composure and lowered her head, eyes locked on the ground and hands in front of her. 

She heard his baldric meeting the surface of the dining table in the other room, before the footsteps continued until they came to another stop. She knew he was in the same room as her now. It felt like an eternity before he began to walk around her like a lion circling his prey.

During the wedding she couldn’t catch anything off about the king, but now. Now she could study him up close. She caught sight of his fine robes from the corner of her eye and followed it. His steps were slow, one slightly weaker.

‘Did he have a slight limp?’ She thought to herself. Her eyes focused on the rhythm of his pace, and there it was. But it wasn’t a serious limp. It was the kind you had after sitting for too long. But still, his footsteps echoed authority. 

He halted to a stop in front of her like a soldier, his footsteps echoing through the chamber as if they were marching in unison with the beat of her heartbeat. The room was shrouded in an overwhelming silence, so profound that it seemed to press against her ears like the weight of the ocean's depths. 

During the wedding ceremony she did not once look up to meet his eyes, not even during the ceremony. Until now, and her heart skipped a beat. 

He stood tall, hands behind his back and his head held high. The gentle breeze blew the head piece in a wave like motion. She could not see an inch of his skin. He was completely shieled off from the world in black and gold.

But now, it was the next morning, and she was to be crowned queen.

The doors swung open to reveal Y/f/n. Y/n had not moved from her sitting position on the bed as she watched y/f/n   walk into the bed chamber followed by three maids. They bowed in greeting to the princess, who stood up from the bed and walked towards the balcony. 

She saw the banners being hoisted, the smell of baking and other foods swam in the air faintly. And the excitement that the people of kingdom would have a young and beautiful queen. 

Y/f/n pulled back the covers back from the bed enough to see the sheet underneath. Her heart felt like it had jumped inside her chest. “Fetch some more Jasmine for her highness,” Y/f/n waved the maids away.

As the door closed behind the maids, and Y/n  felt Y/f/n  ’s gaze on her. “Do not look at me so, Y/f/n .” she sighed, her voice steady yet tinged with the defiance that masked her inner storm. 

Y/f/n approached her and placed a hand on her arm. Y/n    turned to look at her friend, her eyes, once filled with youthful dreams, reflected the morning light with unyielding stubbornness.

“You may not owe Daegu your love or your loyalty,” Y/f/n   spoke softly. “But our homeland faces threats that can be fought by his kingdom’s strength,” 

Y/n’s expression hardened; an imperceptible shadow passed over her face, like a cloud obscuring the sun. “We are capable of handling our affairs alone,” she said stubbornly. “We do not need this king nor his kingdom.” She sounded so confident, but her heart wavering. Deep inside her, a battle raged between pride and necessity. A fond and knowing smile played on Y/f/n’s lips. “Pride is a chain to which you willingly bind yourself, Y/n,” she said. “A fine queen must know when to wield it for strength and when to discard it for peace.”

🍊

Within the council chamber, a different kind of storm brewed, a tempest of hushed voices and furtive glances. The magistrates gathered, trapped in spirals of tense apprehension, their murmurs barely breaching the room’s confines. 

“This is unprecedented,” one ventured, his disbelief quivering in the charged air. “No witnesses, no confirmation. What if it hasn’t been done?”

Another scoffed, his derision cutting through the caution. “If it hasn’t, this alliance hangs by a thread. We cannot afford rumours.”

A third voice, fraying the delicate line between irritation and fear, added, “Who among us would dare challenge him? The king’s disdain for interference bares its fangs.”

Their hushed debate ceased abruptly as the door swung open.

Yoongi strode in, the gleaming silver of his mask catching the flickering torchlight. His steps were measured, deliberate, and each one echoed against the stone floor. The magistrates straightened like errant schoolboys caught in mischief, their faces a mixture of alarm and guilt.

“By all means,” Yoongi said, his voice cool and cutting, “continue.”

The eldest magistrate cleared his throat, fumbling for composure. “Your majesty...we were merely discussing the events of last night. For the sake of the crown, of course.”

Yoongi tilted his head slightly, the polished mask giving nothing away but making his presence feel all the more imposing. “For the crown,” he echoed, his tone heavy with irony. “You find yourselves troubled, then?” he asked calmly.

“Your Grace, we are stewards of the realm’s traditions. Without witnesses to confirm the consummation, questions may arise. Questions that could weaken the alliance.”

Yoongi’s lips curled into the faintest trace of a smirk. “Questions,” he said, “that you have already begun to whisper among yourselves.”

The room fell into an uneasy silence.

The eldest magistrate stepped forward. “Your majesty, it is not our intent to question your judgment. But the sanctity of this marriage must be beyond doubt. Without confirmation, there is risk—”

“Risk,” Yoongi interrupted, his voice dropping to a dangerous quiet, “is allowing rumours to undermine a union that has already been sealed.”

He took in a breath as if he was board and straightened his frame, his masked visage looming over them as he swept his gaze across the room. “I granted the princess privacy,” Yoongi continued, his tone growing sharper. “A courtesy your daughters would no doubt appreciate, should they ever find themselves bound to a foreign king. Or would you prefer that such matters be made a public spectacle?”

A few magistrates flinched. Their boldness from earlier evaporating under Yoongi’s scrutiny.

The king took another step forward, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. “It seems I must remind you of the boundaries of your stations. This is a matter of the crown, and you do not dictate terms to your king.”

He leaned forward slightly, the light casting his mask in stark relief. “The alliance and marriage is secure. And should any of you dare suggest otherwise beyond this chamber, you will find yourselves answering for treason. Am I clear?”

The magistrates bowed hastily, their murmured affirmations overlapping in a cacophony of submission.

“Good,” Yoongi said curtly. He turned on his heel, but paused in the threshold, he glanced back, his voice laced with finality.

“You should all be preparing for the coronation of your new Queen, not gossiping about her like wives.”

🍊

The nobles of Daegu and Busan lined the pews, resplendent in their finest robes, but the weight of solemnity muted their grandeur. The coronation of a queen was not a spectacle, but it was a declaration of divine order, a moment where heaven and earth seemed to meet.

Y/n approached the altar, regal and unyielding. Her coronation gown. It was a masterpiece of ivory silk and golden embroidery that gleamed in the dim light. A blood red velvet robe, lined with ermine, cascaded behind her, carried by Y/f/n, whose steady presence grounded her. 

And in the pews, Dowager Queen, Min Song observed. Her eyes fixed on Y/n, watching the young woman’s every move. To the casual observer, her expression might seem mild, but beneath the surface, there was a calculated gleam. Her thoughts were already turning. Y/n was no longer just a queen of Daegu and Busan, but Cyprus as well, and she was certain this vampire was going to suck her son’s kingdom dry.

But she would find some way to control this knew queen, or even get rid of her if the opportunity arrived. 

Y/n could not see him. He was nowhere in sight in the crowed, but she felt his eyes on her. She knew he was somewhere watching, studying her every move. 

And he was in fact doing just that. 

Min Yoongi watched her from the balcony where no one saw him. The silver edges of his mask glinted faintly, his presence as commanding as it was mysterious. His posture was composed, his gloved hands resting on the cold stone railing, but his mind was as sharp as the edge of a sword. This coronation wasn’t just a formality, but it was a calculated move to solidify alliances to bind his kingdom to hers. Yet Yoongi was not here to celebrate her. He was here to observe, to judge, and to control.

Last night she refused to preform her wifely duties, listed why she despised him, how he was a tyrant and unholy to rule. She believed it was God who pointed kings and queens to rule. It made him chuckle to himself. He would bring her to her knees. He only needed time.

He tried to find some sort of flaw about her performance, but just like during the wedding, she showed no sign of nervousness. Not a twitch in her fingers, no tremble in her stance. But of course, after all, she had spent her life preparing for moments like this, a lifetime of expectation, and now that it had come, she was ready. She was every inch a queen, and even he could not deny that. 

He watched as she passed by the throne to make her recognition. She faced the East side of the chair of the throne and then the other three sides in this order South, West and North and at every of the four sides the priest, with a loud voice spoke to the people. 

“Sirs, I here present unto you Queen Y/n, your undoubted Queen. Wherefor all you who have come this day do your homage and service. Are you willing to do the same?”

“GOD SAVE QUEEN Y/N!” The people at each of the four sides spoke in unison, like a mighty lion’s roar. 

Y/n bowed to them, and the dumbs and trumpets were sounded as she kneeled.

“Madam, is your Majesty willing to take the Oath?” she was asked.

“I am willing.”

The Min seal was placed on top of the bible that was brought with her from Cyprus. She placed her hand over both of them. “I solemnly promise and swear to govern the people of Daegu, Busan and Cyprus according to their respective laws and customs. I promise, to my power for law, justice and mercy to be executed in all my judgments. I promise to maintain the laws of God and the truth of the Gospel. I declare before God that my whole life, shall be devoted to the service of this imperial nation to which we all belong. All this I promise to do. So help me God.”  She leaned forward, pressing her lips to the cover of the bible, and signed the Oath before she made her way back to the throne and sat down.

As the crown was lifted over her head, Yoongi couldn’t help but notice how effortless she made it look. He could still remembered his coronation as if it happened yesterday. He was thirteen, and incredibly nervous, but with his mother by his side he felt a little at ease. 

Y/n, however had no one, yet she was an excellent performer. No falter, no hesitation in her poise. She didn’t need to struggle for composure. She was born for this. That made something stir within him, and his lips, hidden behind his mask, curved upward in a smirk.

The moment the crown came down on her head, everyone bowed. “Long live Queen Y/n!”

The sound of drums and trumpets danced across the walls. Her eyes swept the room, talking in all the nobles as they bowed down to her. But still, the man she was looking for was nowhere to been seen. 

Until she looked up. 

There he was, watching her from the balcony and their eyes locked. Yoongi’s smirk deepened beneath his mask. He inclined his head ever so slightly, giving her a small bow. It was deliberate and slow mocking, yet regal.

(part 2 coming soon.)

[werezmastarbucks]

19. planting promises

flowers over boys masterlist

in which Yoongi is testing Hobi's patience

word count: 2934

warnings: yes i like slowburn. why are you asking?

you knock on the door of the stables like it's Taehyung's office, and he opens with a smile of an IT guy who smells a little like horses. the strawberry-peach of the sunset is playing colours on his young, lean face. the birthmark on his lower lip shines black. he lets you in with eagerness like he's been waiting for you, and you are immediately stopped from speaking about the thing you came for.

"yes", he pulls you in by the elbow. the soft, warm lanterns are shining under the ceiling, but you still leave the doors open to let the fresh air in. you walk over to Taehyung's best friends, horses, and pat one on the face. they remember you by now, snuggle into your touch. you bask in the warmth of an intelligent eye, seeing your reflection.

"what happened to your lip?" he asks, half-way to his working bench.

"i fell yesterday and split it on the stairs", you reply, looking at the horse.

"okay. i need to show you something".

you move your focus to Taehyung.

"are you going to intercept the Europeans with the others?"

"yes", he brushes you off busily, "give me your hand".

you step to him, trusting him fully, and put out your long-suffering hand. the traces of your prolonged stay in here still sore to this day. the ugly wide scar hidden beneath a clean cloth. you now wear it out of aesthetic principle because for now it looks hideous.

Taehyung wraps a thin brown strap around your wrist with concentrated expression on his face. it's hard to describe what it is: looks like something in between a watch and a compass. round case with a glass lid and even flowery pattern on the sides of it: quite an intricate work, actually. but inside, there are no hands or numbers. instead, it's collection of small... pea-looking dots? that begin to move once the "watch" is strapped to you.

Taehyung sighs with surprise like he wasn't the one who made it.

"what is it, Tae?" you stare at this alien thing, applying all your traveller mind to understanding. you've seen many a futuristic device; you've been to Titan of the future! but nothing ever like this.

"so, Jiyoung", he begins. of course it's for her, you think with a smirk, "gets tired of the heat. sometimes her heart starts beating too hard when the day is exceptionally sunny".

you nod patiently.

"when her heart beats too fast..." he explains, like you are very stupid or very little,

"...because she sees you..." you put in. Taehyung grins like a boy.

"no, because of the sun... she feels sick".

"it's called sunstroke, i'm sure you're aware".

he lifts his finger.

"yes. this device is made of Chongseong metal".

"huh?"

"Chongseong metal".

"say it again".

"Chongseong metal".

"sorry?"

"Chongseong..." he sighs, annoyed. you chuckle.

"i have no idea what it is".

"it's rare. we mine it from the inside of the mountains".

"that's the first time i hear Joseon has mining business. how do you even do that?"

Taehyung steps away and imitates hitting a rock.

"with very big picks".

"okay... and what is special about this metal?"

"it feels you".

"it feels me?"

Taehyung nods. then his face lights up.

"oh, Jungkook was right. it is extensively pleasurable to tell you something you don't know. you really never heard about Chongseong metal?"

you shake your head.

"metal that feels you sounds a little surrealistic, no? it's like that sapphire viper venom that makes a Hulk out of you".

"a Hulk?"

"like a god".

Taehyung nods again and adjusts the device on your wrist. you start understanding. slowly. the dots don't just move: they hop softly under the glass. to the rhythm of your heart.

"it listens to your blood. and when the peas hop and mingle too fast... it means you need to get out into the shade".

your free hand scratches your cheek.

"Taehyung", you say, "you invented an Apple Watch, bro".

"no, no apples involved. just skin of a..."

you wave his words away.

"this is mega advanced technology. given", you can't take your eyes off it, "partially involving some magic deep-mountain sentient metal, but still..."

you start jumping in place, lifting your knees, to increase your heart rate. indeed, the peas, as he calls them, start hopping with you, slightly darting from left to right. they do not move because you move; as you stand still, they go back to the peaceful, heartbeat tempo. you raise your eyes.

"this is genius".

Taehyung beams, drops his chin, rolls his eyes. you unstrap it and give it back to him.

"what are you calling it?"

"Jiyoung's heart".

"oh my god", you whine, grabbing your chest, "shut the fuck up! you are..." your hand points at him accusingly, "you are literally the most dreamy guy in here. how are you real?"

as you fall on a bench, a horse closest to you nudges you in the shoulder with its head, believing you're in distress and need assistance. Taehyung keeps smiling, then fidgets with his long hair as he puts the watch away. you want to cry, then, with effort, rub your face.

"did you want something, as well, or?.." he asks innocently. you lift your head again.

"right".

your hand dives into your pocket and you take out the lilac ribbon.

"this is the reason you've jumped Yoongi, isn't it?"

Taehyung's eyes slide down the ribbon, and he purses his lips like he is trying not to let something out. so, it's pretty much confirmed.

"this is one of the two ribbons Jiyoung had given me", you continue, "and i thought i lost one on the night i fought the illustrious wang. but i didn't lose it. he stole it, didn't he? and then you saw it and thought he is fucking your girl".

Taehyung winces at your words.

"sorry. thought she had given it to him".

"she didn't tell me she gifted them away. they were her mother's".

you fall quiet.

"we are still forbidden to talk to you", he says softly. you slide the ribbon into your palm. a low chuckle escapes your throat.

you consider whether you should tell Taehyung about the... so-called kiss Yoongi performed on your cut.

"he can't be that delulu, he must know i am friends with you".

Taehyung shrugs, pondering.

"suppose he trusts me. us".

"what do you make of Namjoon?" you ask. his eyes stare at the ceiling as his tongue helps him think.

"nothing so far. he is important to you, right?"

"uh-huh. i find his change of heart suspicious".

"i don't", Tae says suddenly, and it surprises you. he crosses his arms on his chest. "picture this: he was raised with impure blood, in deception, meant not to be loved but to kill the king. what loaylty should he have for those people?" he says it with almost disgust, his hatred for Europeans showing, "i believe his attempt to shoot the king was a death wish, a masked call to be executed".

you hum.

Taehyung sniffs through his nose, and you don't like how it sounds.

"what?"

"been asking all kinds of questions about you, too".

his eyes dart to the ribbon you play with, hand resting on your knees.

"don't give Namjoon the second one, or there will be blood".

you are offended, grimacing.

"how dare you. i am on first base with little meow meow. plus, i didn't give it to him anyway, i told you. he stole it from me".

there's a curvy, uneven grin colouring Taehyung's mouth. talk about romance.

"Namjoon is like a brother to me".

the boy raises his eyebrows.

"so you do know him?"

you struggle to find words, click your tongue, your mind rattling in the caged corner you keep running yourself into. why yap so much, y/n? Taehyung nods darkly.

"right, secrets. i don't want to hear any more fairytale lies from you, so keep it. you knew my name the first day you came here".

"what i can tell you", you cut him off firmly, "is that i will jump in front any of you, like i did with Hobi".

he blinks into emptiness. listenins to you intently.

his question sounds so soft, sincere in the late pink darkness of the stables, that it almost cracks you:

"but why?"

you wrap the full length of the ribbon around your finger, searching for a way to tell him.

"just accept it", you say finally. "alright?"

Taehyung purses his lower lip with some off the charts charm. you ask him when the company leaves, to stop the European plot.

"the end of the week", he says, sitting upright on the bench and counting horses with his eyes, "you're not going. by the way".

"i bet i could sneak into Namjoon's sack and no one will notice me".

he only snorts disapprovingly. you stand up to make your joints work and to look outside.

"is Yoongi going, too?"

"yes. worried?"

you walk over to Taehyung and adjust the headband on his forehead.

"of course i am, duh".

"what happened to you and him being over?" a sly, nasty smirk on his face. you scratch your sweaty neck behind the collar. the first Joseon period made this day very long and more exhausting than others; you rub your belly that is begging you to get onto the futon and sleep.

"love-hate dynamic. can't help it, wanna bark at him".

you wish him a good night and leave, and horses neigh sleepily.

Jiji-Suga turns out to be a boy. he is still a slender, bony guy who walks elegantly in between flower bushes, keeping his thin, pointy tail up. curious, but, alas, the curse of his name: he strides around like he owns the place. must be the sitting on wang's shoulder, taking in his fresh scent of superiority. when the cat approaches you, no doubt remembering your welcoming lap after the horror of the storm, you sit up and smile at him like he is the best thing in the world. in many aspects, he is. it's a damn cat. it doesn't get any better than a cat.

your hand reaches for him, and Jiji-Suga taps his wet, cold nose into the palm. you pet it on the back, still feeling the spine poking out. but if he is fed regularly like that first evening, he will gain weight in no time.

"how many peacocks have you killed today?" you ask him tenderly. just like any other curious cat, he starts sniffing your tools; the raw, damp soil upturned at your knees, and the small piles of seeds. you have elected the Garden of the South for anemones, the farthest one. the Night Garden was your first thought, but you decided it would be too arrogant. plus the flowers would clash. here, among peonies and bluebells, the round, windy summer flowers will fit.

you distract yourself from work by checking Jiji-Suga's nails. he has a beautiful... face? snoot? bright green eyes, as well, and his fur is shiny and thick. could be someone's cat actually, but whose? now it's yours. he walks aimlessly among the flowers, looking absolutely dazzling in between two poppies, and then loafs comfortably at an arm's length from you and simply observes you poking into the ground.

"dammit, some UV lights would be very handy in here, don't you think?" you murmur at him. Jiji-Suga moves his ears, catching some distant sounds from within the yards.

you put the seeds that are sanded and bloated from soaking overnight into the damp soil and cover them neatly. the cat is just like the rest: doesn't appreciate your singing very much, sensitive to sounds. he gets distracted by the birds flying by up above him.

you jump slightly when a voice calls you from behind:

"astronaut".

no doubt he uses it because you specifically told him to forget.

you flinch, electricity zipping your armpits, startled, and turn, flaring your nostrils.

"why you always gotta sneak up? can't you walk like normal people?"

Yoongi is leaning against the painted red banister. you forget he is a cat, as well. can't help the smirk on his face. he looks at the cut on your lip with wild entertainment, and all your cool that Seokjin and Taehyung admire so much crumbles like a fresh cookie. it's infuriating! tilting his head slightly is king's version of keeping his tail upright.

"my chamber is empty".

Hoseok looks bored, standing a few steps away. his eyes wandering around the ceiling. it's like he is visibly tortured by this scene, although it has just begun. maybe Yoongi takes pleasure in submitting his General to this public displays of affection.

"that's an embarrassing thing to say for a king".

Hobi doesn't even react anymore.

"and the florist. where are the flowers?"

he is literally just flirting now. there is no hint of threat anymore. he is just bored.

you gesture to the seeds sitting on the ground and waiting to be planted.

"you will get them in a year. nine months, if we are lucky", you fidget slightly, knees going sleepy in this sitting position. adjust the blanket you are sitting on. anything not to look him in the eye. come oooonnnn. all sass has drained from you. every look at Yoongi reminds you of the monstrous desire to get within his grasp again. it's even worse that you know the ribbon is somewhere on him.

"anemones take their time forming the root system first", you explain, just to ramble, "and only then sprout. it will be weeks before we see them above the ground".

"anemones?" he asks, rather sincerely, "just pick any others".

"you get anemones or you get nothing", you say with finality and go back to work.

he is quiet for some time. you only know he is still there because Jiji-Suga is looking at him.

"while i am away, you're staying inside the palace grounds", Yoongi says. you turn back again, the swing forcing you to put your hair away. left the ribbon at your futon. you don't feel like giving him the pleasure of seeing yours now.

"why is that?"

"someone needs to keep an eye on..." his jaw goes sideways. you can see his delicate upper teeth waiting to sink into someone's throat, "cat".

"he has a name".

Yoongi is visibly refusing to say it.

"that we gave him, you know".

nothing.

"say it. Jiji-Suga".

Hoseok scratches his forehead, stunted.

"that is such a weird name".

"why are you surprised?" Yoongi pushes himself off the banister showing that chat is over. he turns to General like he is just a friend, a close friend. in a familiar motion of the chin.

"at least lift the ban if i will be living here", you urge, raising yourself a little. Yoongi looks back at you. his cresent eyes tender.

"nobody speaks to me. i will be like a ghost in here".

he muses for a second, mouth slightly ajar. very soon, if this war of hormone continues, you will need regular ice-cold showers.

"counselor is at your disposal", he utters. then nods at Hoseok.

"he will show you the room. right, General?"

it ultimately comes down to who will be the first to make Hobi scream with fury. king's horsetail swings like he is giddy. the sky is once again crystal-blue.

"when is cold coming?" you ask musingly. Hoseok surprisingly cranes his neck to look out from under the roof:

"yes, it is an anomaly".

Jiji-Suga gets up and walks over to him swiftly, immensely interested in his pants. you and Yoongi watch as the cat grinds his side against Hobi's leg.

"are Namkook going with you guys?" you shake your hands from the soil. it's just that you don't want them to leave for now.

"who?" Hobi's face is wincing. he is so done with your bullshit, it's spectacular. Yoongi's black eyes drill you. you have got to admire his mind: you can see it's working.

"Namjoon... and Jungkook. why are you asking about the archer?"

and his voice drops a tiny amount, almost unnoticeable icy millimeter. it gives you immeasurable pleasure. you know this type of men mainly from movies. the fact that Agust D the cool boss had stolen your ribbon. put a ban on even looking at you on everybody except an asexual blind guy and his closest friend; he must be simmering inside. there is a sore on the background of it all that you cannot detect yet.

it is simply too good to go on for too long.

you start to worry. what if Namjoon had brought bad news, not good? what if something happens to them in that journey? what if the pistols shoot? you sigh; the day is suddenly drained of all joy. Yoongi is still waiting for the answer.

"why, you jealous?" you grumble, without a feeling.

"you have no idea", he responds, smoothly. so simply that it doesn't register at first.

you bow your head above the ground pretending to get busy with seeds again.

"what colour of anemones do you want?" the question hits you in the back. the heat is filling your face, you're unable to look up.

"huh?"

"what colour. do you want?" his voice is deep like the chasms of your fantasies about him.

"dark purple".

as they leave, the skirts shuffle, and you finally breathe out. you look at Jiji-Suga returning to your side, bulging your eyes.

"dude", you whisper. throw one cautious look over your shoulder. "i can't do this much longer. i will either humiliate myself or fuck him right in the corridor".

the cat arches his back under your hand. Jiji-Suga couldn't give two shits about your problems.

taglist: @cerulean1riz , @kiki-zb , @mar-lo-pap , @ashyiiy , @enfppuff , @coolpeanutskeletonpersona , @jajabro

[hopefulngold]

somebody does love!

jungkook / hoseok / namjoon / jimin / taehyung / seokjin