May 12
Art study of Daechwita Yoongi from last year
seen from China
seen from Canada
seen from United States
seen from Argentina
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Mexico
seen from Spain
seen from United States
seen from Belarus
seen from Canada
seen from China
seen from Germany
seen from Chile
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Mexico
Art study of Daechwita Yoongi from last year
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.
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DTIYS of Shadow the Hedgehog
Reference: Agust D 대취 타
10. stuck on a tree
flowers over boys masterlist
in which you lecture Jungkook about cocks
word count: 3289
it's the beautiful nature of your work: you are always in the gardens. trimming, digging, placing the stones, cleaning, gathering, planting. and, while the days are sunny if a little stuffy, people are drawn to the gardens. walking and speaking probably feels stupid in the empty yard where there's nothing to look at. of course the king won't go outside the gate to the street to chat, either. so, he retreats to his gardens, after all he has a crew of staff working on maintaining them tirelessly. soon, you will have to run back to the market to beg Seokjin for a new jar of fat for your hands. the Garden of South is full of trees that give fruits. unlike the tangerines. majority of these are ready to be plucked, so for once, you're enjoying standing up and stretching, sometimes standing on your tippy toes to reach them which is good for the back. however, there's always some rearrangement to do, something to perfect. the plants and flowers, even the trees, even though they are much slower than people, constantly change. your eye catches their leaves nodding to one side so you may tie them up a little because all flowers should be facing the windows. you don't try to trim them too much or stomp out the natural lush of plants as they grow and form curious shapes; you highlight them, and Jiyoung says you are really good at listening to them. flowers especially; you listen to them as they sing to you how they want to grow, and you help them. you assign your own meanings to plants when you don't remember the conventional symbolism. you think that, of course, Yoongi is a tangerine. he needs peeling to get to the good stuff. Jimin is an oriental lily that grows in the Night Garden, pretty, so pretty that you don't want to touch it. Seokjin is a peach, full and warm, because when he brought you peaches the first time you were in the cell, they saved you from vomiting from hunger. Taehyung is a pomegranate, with hard skin but many, many scattering parts inside. Jungkook turns out to be a papaya, southern sunny fruit that matches his robe in colour. Hoseok is a black pine, traditional, dark, vivid and strict, all soaked in elegance. you wish Namjoon made himself known. you crave to assign a growing thing to him. whether it will be a tree or a flower, or a fruit. you want to see him.
consumed by your thoughts, you stall under a persimmon tree. those are exceptionally stubborn when it comes to shaping, and maybe Yoongi should be a persimmon. you don't know. you hear Jimin's melody for voice first, and only then notice him: he walks into the garden. the afternoon is a little cloudy, although here and there the sunspots fall on the ground. maybe it's a promise of colder weather soon. you raise your head and get back to work, your hands up in the branches, adjusting the straps. persimmons, like tangerines, are barely ripe yet. king and Jungkook step next to Jimin and circle the tiny pond with fishes, and the maknae throws a look at them. comments something about the fish that's floating too fast, in his opinion.
you should make your presence known, probably. what if they have a super secret royal conversation not suitable for your pleb ears. then again, you didn't care before and you don't still. you find out you're still humming under your nose when Jimin, the one with the sharpest ear, warns:
"i think there's a wasp in your garden, Yoongi. i hear the buzzing".
he hums in return. you are covered well by the branches and the other trees.
"are the fishes fed, y/n?" Jungkook asks, raising his voice. at the pace they are strolling through the garden, there's still a good distance between you.
"yes", you yell back.
"yes what?"
"yes, your Royal Monkeyness".
it's quiet for a little bit.
you can hear his chuckle floating through the garden. they walk slowly, taking in the sights, and you wonder if Yoongi is quiet because he is looking for something to pick on. his usual black and golden dragon robe is back on him, contrasting with silky hair. you realize that you never gave it a thought, how he even has this blond hair. fine, this is the Daechwita dimension, but within this world, there must be a reason he is pearl-blond. it's not like anybody else in the whole of Joseon has similar hair. his nephew has his very characteristic curly long black hair. even Jimin's hair looks natural, although there's an unmistakeable glint of dark-purple now that the light shines on his head. face covered with the bluish mask, highlighting the eyes.
"we could clear a spot around here, close to water", Jimin suggests, and you feel your ears turning. even cock your head to see what the fuck they are discussing. the gardens at this point, although it's barely been over a month, feel like your domain. "clearing" spots sounds to you like upturning flower beds or, god forbid, rooting up trees.
"i don't think this garden is big enough. Eastern is better".
"but it might be colder".
"however there's a direct exit inside the corridors with the barn".
Jimin hums in agreement. Yoongi sighs.
"why did you have to bring me anything at all, Jungkook?"
"i haven't sent any presents for your birthday, uncle", Jungkook complains.
"but peacocks?!"
your nostrlis flare slightly. you sigh noisily. the three of them are already relatively close.
"imagine the beautiful birds walking around here when you get up in the morning", Jungkook goes on, "maybe we should put them in the Night Garden".
Jimin produces a protesting whine. you say,
"lilies are poisonous for birds. it's bad enough you treat them as a present, you also want to kill the poor things? use your head a little, i beg you".
they all stand there and look at you, Jungkook munches on your words. and you can swear, he moves his lover lip inwards as if his tongue is searching for a piercing to play with.
"delightful", Yoongi concludes. that warrants and enthusiastic glance from his nephew. Jimin simply tilts his head.
"you know, animals should live in the wild", you continue. one stubborn branch doesn't want to get inside a knot of twine, and you work it with both hands.
"these are just cocks", Jungkook retorts.
"cocks have certain intelligence, feel pain and can experience distress", you hammer. "can't believe i need to explain animal rights in this year of our Chr- , in the middle of nineteenth century".
"peacocks", Jimin inserts, "lack souls for the simple reason of their beauty". you click your tongue, irritated by his willing ignorance, unless he's fucking with you.
“how do you know they’re beautiful?”
“i touched many”
"so, you don't have a soul, either?" maknae replies jokingly. you would've said the same thing if he hadn't outpaced you.
"but you're right", he turns to his uncle. you can see them with your peripheral vision, relaxed, Jimin turning his head to listen to the sounds, and Yoongi stares in front of him. "knowing you, i should've got you a pet cheetah".
"and named him Jason Statham", you advise. Jungkook raises his eyebrows.
"what, you think i can only quote bts songs?" you shake the coil of twine in your hand, finally having tamed the persimmon. "i am a music fan, i'll have you know. i like a lot of different stuff".
"she always speaks so much?"
Jimin sighs, seeing that the king keeps silent.
"you have no idea. when i had to follow her, my head was buzzing at nights".
Jungkook lowers his voice, turns completely to Yoongi and you hear, as you pick up the basket to move it under the cherry tree:
"can i have her as my personal servant while i am here?"
Yoongi chuckles, low:
"no".
your head snaps towards them.
"maknae, you can't handle me".
Yoongi continues, his gaze firm on you, again because he knows that long enough, and you will start fidgeting.
"but you are right about the hands. look how neatly the trees appear this season. and the flowers are still blooming at the beginning of harvest. Jimin, are you seeing it?"
"very funny".
"you should be the royal florist".
your eyes narrow. his stare is a challenge.
"why are you so nice to me?"
he is in such a good mood around his nephew that he grins, squinting one scarred eye:
"scared? it's about to get worse. come to the palace tomorrow morning".
you clutch the basket to yourself, suspicious. Yoongi seemingly loses interest in this conversation, satisfied with the chill order he'd just dropped, and he turns around. Jungkook and Jimin have nothing else to do but follow him back.
"isn't it curious", counselor purrs, his mask turning half-way, "how she constantly names the century we live in?" Yoongi's long earring clicks in response.
next morning, perhaps because you are nervous about what is on king's mind, you oversleep slightly, and Min-ssi oma's stick finds you on your futon. it's not completely late, but usually you prefer to get up before she grasps her treacherous weapon.
you dress up, checking how clean your hanbok is. arms ache because yesterday was the washing day and you are still the courier girl for the washing basket. those who pissed you off, had their dresses dry in the stables again, and are now wandering around, sleepy, confused, around the garden.
you look at yourself in the metal mirror, your face distorted and a bit blurry like you suddenly have a -7 vision. in the palace, mirrors are better and his royal highness definitely knows what he looks like in details. shit, even the swords are better to look into, than these medieval mirrors. a lot of things still feel medieval here, it's another fifty or something years until the fall of Joseon dynasty if you remember correctly; as you assimilate further, surprisingly many facts come up in your head. all thanks to ot7 obsession. speak about how useless it is to be a fan girl.
your hand reaches for the small jar of the crushed berry paste, forgotten by one of the maids here, still open. some of them even do their makeup on a usual working day, hoping to catch a cute royal guard's eye. now you convince yourself that you plunge your finger inside because it's the palace after all. should look formal and all. can't have Hoseok side eye you because you stand out from other staff. uh huh. you pinch and rub your cheeks with the red finger, then add a little to your lips. you make it barely noticeable and leave the mirror without a second look. huh. why do you even have to do it. what is he, the President of America or something.
Jiyoung notices you when you try to sneak away. she always does, her eagle eye trained on you, for everybody's sake. it narrows now, her voice at normal volume because she doesn't know how delicate the matter is. you don't either.
"where do you think you're going?"
"i need uh..." your finger points in the indefinite direction. it's a bad day to decide to yap less. now four, five, and then six faces are turned to you, looking up.
"you need uh?"
"i need to be somewhere".
"yes, in the Western Garden, fertilizing".
her hands are on her hips.
"you don't get to skip like yesterday".
"hey, i did all the persimmon trees yesterday".
"fine, but today it's work as well".
"oh dear", Yu points her finger at you, "oh dear! her cheeks are red. you have been summoned, haven't you?"
the girls step closer to you, staring you in the face.
"it's the Monkey Prince, isn't it? he is known to take anyone, just about anyone..."
your face wrinkles in indignation.
"i have been promoted, okay? i need to go to the palace and... i guess..."
"sure, you have", they giggle, "that's fine. lucky, lucky".
"eugh", your body shudders, "don't even say that. stop. the baby. no. just..." your hands wave in the air.
"you should put ribbons in your hair if you're going to the palace", Jiyoung gives up, laughing. "come here, i will help you".
it takes her a couple of minutes to weave two silky-lilac ribbons into your braids, and even though they belong to her, they match your face.
"if i see Taetae, i will give him your best".
she hums, trying to stay unaffected, but her cheeks take on a little bit of blood, and she looks fantastic. she closes her eyes, nodding, just like her brother does.
"try not to get yourself into the white dungeon".
your head snaps back to her, horrified mouth opens.
"white? what the hell do they do there?"
Jiyoung covers her mouth with her hand and leans back onto the wooden column, trying not to laugh out.
"sorry. sorry. i had to mess with you".
you sigh with relief, move your head around, as the tips of ribbons bounce on your shoulders.
"you look... admissable", she beams.
you turn around, your eye catching the ribbons flying behind, following your head.
"i look like an idiot. y/n-chan? yes? what do you like? mint fucking chocolate".
Jiyoung lets herself go and roars with laughter, looking at what must be a very alien, very barbaric little dance to her. you realize you're stalling, so you take a breath.
"come on, y/n. it's just little meow meow", you grumble, "you've seen him already. nothing special. just don't lose your cool. fighting".
the storks fly over your head in the bright-blue autumn sky. they drift harmoniosuly aloft, red legs visible from the ground. it smells like spices: the smell comes from the market, opening in the morning. you pass by the gate and keep your back straight, humming a melody as usual. it gets easier as you approach the main doors and climb the stairs to the palace. you actually feel cool doing that. yes, if you were to climb these stairs in the very middle every day like king does, you'd also walk like a gangster. upon entering the hall, you meet a guard's terrified eyes:
"why are you taking the royal entrance?" he whispers. you feel annoyance creep up on you immediately.
"how else am i supposed to enter?"
he looks around and shakes his head quickly.
"move, move. your entrance is at the back".
"should've put up a sign or something".
your steps fall softly on the clean wooden floor as you throw your head back to look around. there are so many rooms in this labyrinth-like place; and you've only been in the back corridors and a couple of places in this month. so there's no chance there's even an approximate map of the palace in your head. especially considering the natural topographical stupidity of someone from the modernity. you picture your loyal and pretty IPhone in your palm and sigh, but think going on without it for a while is very good for your mental health.
it must have taken immense talent to built and decorate this palace: every inch of the wall is encrusted with intricate carvings and gilded, or there's a painting, or a murial, and the blues and greens are so vivid that it catches your eye and startles your mind. the images dedicated to the king's conquests, or whatever he does, maybe the defense of his kingdom; blue mountains covered with black pines like those in the garden. imagery of exotic and fierce animals that have his eyes. there's even a huge, muscular tiger on the tapestry hung in the center of the huge hall, that has a scar over his right eye. handsome. you twirl around yourself to look at every little detail, realizing how fundamental it is, that some two hundred years later people like you will stand on the same spot, seeing the copies of these tapestries, admiring the same carvings, having the same thoughts as you. you have no idea where to go next, because this part of the palace is totally unexplored for you. for now, the hall takes all your attention, and your sloth doesn't go unpunished.
General is again like a shadow; you never hear his steps, like he floats above the ground. ever in his black aura, his eyes still cold, although there's no hatred in them anymore which makes it better.
"you are late and in the wrong section of the palace".
he looks at the entrance, blinks once.
"don't tell me you took the royal steps to come here".
you do a bow, putting one foot behind yourself, covering your face with an arm in the round motion. Hoseok doesn't get the reference, naturally.
"do you need an exorcism?"
you drop the act, seeing that nothing impresses him.
"not very i'm your hope of you".
you make the last attempt at softening Hoseok up, pick up the ribbon on your shoulder and make it jump, but he only gets moodier. he motions with his head.
"you are expected in the throne room at first", he's clearly not happy about it. but doesn't say things like 'how did you even get this far'. of course you suspect there's more to Yoongi's decision to put you right here, than just his admiration of the flowers still blooming. it can't be just that his nephew gave him the idea, and he found it genius. Hoseok is on it whatever the reason is, but it's useless trying to get anything out of him. however, annoying him, as he takes you down the royal corridors, gives you a needed release from the morning nervousness.
"how do i look at least?"
he is silent.
"am i about to cause a wreck?"
"are you?" his voice booms in front of you. you try to catch up with his light but quick steps, all the while spinning your head to see as much of the palace as you can.
"i mean i am probably the worst candidate for the royal florist".
"i wholeheartedly agree".
"you are so mean", you sigh, exasperated, losing energy.
"and you, loud".
he takes you through what looks like an armoury quickly, and you don't get to stare for too long. then, through the small door in the side, to the throne room, now empty. you take a few seconds to look around at first, to check for someone's non-obvious presence, then let your eyes get used to the dimmed light.
"is it always so shaded here?"
"almost", this is the first normal thing Hoseok tells you. "flowers wilted".
"that might be the reason", you look into his face with a helping smile, but his eyes are wandering around the room. he looks a little hesitant, then produces:
"do i need to tell you, do not touch anything. focus on work".
the said work takes your mind pretty quickly. you walk over to the nearest wall with the dried display. the state of the light in here is such that you didn't even notice flowers when you were here before.
"the previous florist did a really lousy job", you conclude, "chrysanthemums? for Yoongi? in autumn?"
General nods.
"the previous florist has been executed".
your head turns to him, amalgamating with the shadows. only his pale face contrasts. your mouth is slightly ajar.
"he reported, happily. you are the arsonist jack in the box, aren't you? blade always thisty for blood?"
his glossy eyes measure you carefully for a moment, then he leaves. good convo.
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6. plucking of poison weeds
flowers over boys masterlist
in which you pull Hoseok to your side, to his displeasure
word count: 3775
warnings: description of execution (≧◡≦) ♡
it isn't a usual afternoon at the Changdeokgung palace. no work done at all. gardens standing still, walls of the inner quarters quiet, sizzling with heat; everybody in the yard, under the royal balcony from which king Min sometimes graces the people with his presence. now, he isn't gracing; he is condemning. the subjects aren't kneeling, they are holding their breaths. your face turned up, probably a cretinous smirk on it, as you take in every moment of Yoongi living his best life executing people with Hoseok's hands.
his gaze is glass-hard, looking down at the two kneeling men on the ground. behind them, Hoseok on the right and another royal warrior to the left, whose face you don't know. he is unfamiliar but equally as dark, in his black, sexy palace robes. Hoseok's eye meeting Yoongi's as they communicate without words, without moving a muscle in their faces. it's deeper even than the owner-dog connection, which shamefully is similar to the way Yoongi operates this whole place. he commands his guards with a bob of his Adam's apple, a lift of an eyebrow. now, his is still, staring down, waiting for the moment, maybe, when he's had all his thoughts, and you're curious what the signal would be, to crash the swords on the necks of the plotters. as he promised, there were people more qualified than you, who found them pretty quickly. one of them is clearly European, white with how much this person has been hiding away from the sun, preparing the assassination. the other one is old man Heongil, Yeonna's superior from the tangerine garden.
it's still. everybody's waiting. getting hot again; autumn still feels like August isn't going anywhere. standing on the balcony shoulder to shoulder with his counterpart, planning to scorch everything down. you dream about a sip of water, your hand on the small of your back. after a night's sleep it's a little better of course, but still, unimaginable discomfort.
"y/n".
at first you don't even register your name sounded out loud. you thought it was Yoongi's voice inside your head. but when you look up again, to your surprise, the king's eyes are on your face now. your mouth opens slightly, flustered. you point a finger at your own chest.
"huh?"
Jiyoung's hand delivers a slap on the back of your head.
"step up".
his voice is dangerously patient and calm. that can't be good. people immediately get out of the way, unwilling to be in the same viewfield with you, so you walk up, closer to the to-be executed. that makes the guts wiggle unpleasantly in your stomach. Yoongi's eyes follow you like a laser stick, and you're unable and unwilling to break the eye contact. you have to admit, there is a certain flare to it. Hoseok is dead silent, ignores your existence. his beautiful lean face glistening with sweat but he doesn't seem to notice.
"these people are about to be executed".
you know somewhere in the crowd, Yeonna is sobbing. this old man was like a father to her. too bad he was a sleeper cell for the christian missionaries targeting the king. you take a short look at them two, the European guy glancing back at you with the mix of hope and disdain.
"tough luck", you nod at him.
"you recognize their faces?"
"i know Heongil".
his hands are relaxed on the banister of the balcony. so full of himself, it suits him well, you think, disgruntled. he stands there like he is watching some kids play football from the balcony of his Daegu apartment.
"so you are fine seeing them executed".
"i mean, as long as you're absolutely sure they are the plotters", you reply, throwing a look at the European again. "this one does look guilty".
the guard at your side shifts just a tiny bit, unused to hearing you speak, probably. his eyes fixated on the king hopefully, like he's silently begging him to whack you, as well, while he is at it. his and Hoseok's hands have the incredible steadiness to them: they have been holding their swords at the two men's necks for a good portion of the hour, and the hands don't shake. they look like statues, actually. remarkable stamina.
Yoongi's face doesn't change, he is still scanning yours. you have no idea what you should do to make him show an emotion. his eyes slide slowly back to Hoseok and he says,
"capacity to see someone's death, especially someone close to you, does not belong to the faint hearted".
"they aren't the ones close to me", you say, and the crowd kind of gulps, they are ready to faint at your impudence. Yoongi, the person they are constantly afraid will be offended by you, is the only one unaffected.
"then, kill".
Hoseok and the other guard raise their swords in a perfectly identical, synchronized motion: they are like shadows of each other. you sway back a little, startled by the wide swing, then look from aside as their Hwando blades cut the necks so easily, smoothly, like they are butter. (pun unintended). almost no sound is produced, and the heads plop on the ground, not bouncing, rolling a little, as your jaw drops down. you haven't seen a murder in quite a while so it's kind of fresh, plus, it's the first time you're in the front row. you're overcome with the clownish desire to cheer for Hobi, him looking like a passionless demon, his face sharp like his blade, eyes saying so many things, as they stare down on the ground. finally, there's even a small spark of triumph in them as he's done. you have no time to decide what to do, because all of a sudden, the guard closest to you produces a soft gasp, like half of a yawn. you turn to him, spooked by the sound. he falls on the ground to his knees, his body seemingly unharmed, but totally soulless now, and collapses onto Heongil's back.
a split second later someone from the depths of the corridors surrounding the yard yells:
"ambush!"
you actually hear a gentle swish of something in the air. it passes your shoulder, flying in the wide window between you and Hobi, and ends up stabbing the wooden column with a dull sound. your mind races, but another one swishes again, further away from you; it all happens really quickly. Hoseok is already turned to the crowd, from which the first shot was produced, but he doesn't hear what you heard because he is too far away.
as people collectively yelp, you realize the shooter is among them.
you do the only thing anybody like you would do in your place.
you yell,
"HOBA!"
and jump.
it's probably so stupid in retrospective. it crosses your mind that the small, light objects might be the poison darts. looking at how the guard died immediately, you don't even think looking at his back to check. your gaze fixated on Hoseok who does what you should've done: assesses the situation. but you hear that they fly closer to him, targeting him, so you collide into the man, your arms around his shoulders as high as you can reach. the worst thing that can happen is, you go home. yes it would suck! but
your breath is caught in your throat, back ache forgotten, as you grab and pull him down on the ground. or at least you try; his arms at first push you away, he grunts with rage putting his sword away at the last second; then he slams you to the ground instead, his palm firmly on your back, as you yell out in pain. breath is knocked out of you. people start running, some of them turn their heads to see what's going on, but most just beat it. there are warriors emerging from all sides, previously invisible, red and black, Taehyung among them, cutting the exits from the inner yard not to let the assassins escape.
something covers the sun for a second. Hoseok's hand pushes the back of your head down as if telling you to stay still, and then he steps away. as the cloud flashes above, you see the flapping of black and gold. Yoongi jumped over the banister and landed on the ground, just now, in front of you. his body like a tiger's: knees bent, he lands gently almost without a sound, and you understand where the legends about him have all come from. he has his sword in his hand, reflecting the low sun blindingly, and together with Hoseok, they walk unhurriedly into the crowd as the other warriors move around them quickly.
Yoongi does one thing that assures you are, after all, the main character here: he looks around briefly, to check on you.
you turn onto your back and grunt, the shoulder which crashed onto the ground under Hoseok's hand feels like it's dislocated; so much force has he applied. really could have been a little softer, but he probably also was startled at you touching him. from what you gather, the no-touching rule only gets stricter the higher the hierarchy. ridiculous, all of it, and you must admit, it's incredibly fun to shatter their little bubble world of order. you contemplate about it, lying on the ground, while people scream around, the swish of blades and yelling of commoners floating above the yard. you're afraid to raise your head in case the assassins are still shooting darts around, so you elevate yourself just a little, peeking around. a pair of feet approaches you, red plates on the shins, with golden embroidery forming the royal coat of arms, a dragon with its head upturned, mouth open, full of blade-like teeth.
"y/n? alive?"
you look up, one eye closed, and see Taehyung and his long ponytail, dangling almost at his hip as he tilts his head forward, covering the sun.
"yep".
"you got hit?"
"no, would've been dead".
"right", he outstretched an arm, but then changes his mind and motions instead:
"get up, it's over".
"who was it?"
he pants a little, looks around.
"there were more of them".
"i figured".
you lift yourself off the ground, massage your shoulder, observe the now almost empty inner yard: there are two dead bodies slain on the little path in between two flower beds; a couple of legs attached to one of those is crushing orchids. you wince, knowing that it will be you, among others, breaking your back there, fixing it. the king and his loyal right hand are nowhere to be seen; the remaining guards in red let people out of the yard in pairs, in an organised manner.
"how's that ointment search going?" you remind him. Taehyung's chewing on his lower lip, his eyes instead searching your face.
"you really did that, huh?"
"what?"
he is quiet for a bit.
"jumped in front of Hoseok? it was so stupid".
you grimace.
"i would've accepted brave, but okay".
he awkwardly scratches his nose.
"i'm sorry, but there's no pepper on the market".
you pat him on the shoulder, and his head snaps around to see if people are watching. he is slowly giving up: day by day, he is accepting the way you behave around him. maybe you can break all of them like this. there are five dead bodies just casually lying around while the guards are busy with the living people. you step over the European's headless corpse and make a threatening motion at him. stay down, dude.
then you nod at Taehyung, still aching, and turn to go, only to catch a view of Jiyoung. she is looking at you two from across the yard, white like a ghost. you hurry to her, but she steps out of the gate quickly, getting lost in the crowd.
the evening is soft purple, mist of the hot day raising above the delicate round artificial pools in the gardens; you don't have to, but you do a little work in the Night Garden because the temperatures had soared during the evening, and by now you remember that lilies are very needy for water. maids are in their quarters, shaken and agitated after a good execution and the action that followed; there will be a funeral for the nameless guard who gave up his life for the king; they have things to talk about. death doesn't knock the breath out of you for you have seen a lot of it. you are way more destabilized by the feeling that you thought would cease immediately. the stress. the stress of that fleeting moment when you saw Hoseok's face concentrated on the crowd, and imagined seeing him shot with a dart. the stress of seeing Jiyoung's face stare at you and Taehyung. for now she refuses to speak with you, avoids you even when you approach her. you hope she and Taehyung can talk this out and he will explain to her that nothing's going on. for once the pain that's wrecking your body feels like a part of the deal. there's a bruise forming on the shoulder and you just take it like an aftergym ache because you've done something useful today, and you feel good. you finally feel at home in this world, but that's probably also that it's been almost a month.
you tend to lilies. among all flowers, you wonder why Yoongi chose them for his personal garden; they are not like the lilies you are used to seeing back home in the 21st century. they resemble ancient magnolias: stems meaty, thick, full of water. they have been getting frailer and less vigorous when you arrived with a bucket of water. this is therapy. each lily needs to be coated in a soft soaked cloth to soothe the leaves and petals after a hot day; the grass needs to be trimmed; also this garden is a novelty and you take extra pleasure in sneaking here because usually Jiyoung doesn't let you in here. too close to king, she says. what if he looks out the window and you do something embarrassing.
now the evening sky is dark purple and windows are black. the stones on the garden path rattle softly as you move through them, palace is otherwise quiet, sleepy. people seem to be in the state of lethargy until tomorrow.
you don't hear him because he moves like a ghost and, like a ghost, wishes probably to stay invisible. as you turn around to look for scissors, you are startled by the sight of black in the middle of the sea of white, pink and soft coral.
"oh, fuck", you yelp, jumping, "Hoba!"
he is so attractive when he tilts his head forward and lets the curly hair fall on his face. he is probably battling with himself, in between regretting coming here and desiring to smother you.
"this is the second time you say this word to me".
you wiggle your brain a little and realize he has a right to be confused.
"it's a..." you gulp, assessing how unpleasant he is about to be. his hands are behind his back, you finally recognize the look on his face. it's the 'i am watching you fuck this up' look from under his brow.
"it's a nickname i gave you. Hoba, Hobi, Hope".
he silently frowns, unable to get over himself. too important for his own little boots.
"cause i hope you won't stab me".
he blinks slowly.
"the watch on you has been called off", he delivers. now it's your turn to crane your neck.
"there has been a watch on me?"
"but don't think it's over".
"what are you on about, my beautiful man?"
his breath shudders slightly, like he is putting a lot of effort to filter what you're saying.
"you have jumped to protect me. in a fit of an incredibly stupid impulse, goes without saying. but this attempt has earned you a pardon".
"didn't know i needed one?" you weigh the scissors in your hand, moving it up and down. Hoseok goes silent, finally lifting his head, and now his gaze is interested, palpating you, chin up, a little unsettling.
"why?"
"why what? why'd i jump?"
"yes. you are a nobody to me".
"sounds like a you problem", you reply softly, tucking some hair behind your ear. dry wound on the back of your palm stings.
"you will answer my question".
"what if i suddenly got into the whole worshipping the palace staff thing?" you shrug, a smirk on your lips, trying to get him off your back. Hoseok isn't having it. thankfully, he doesn't step closer or anything. you're ready to stab him lightly just in case. he is not your bias after all, just an instrumental part of your mental well-being.
"just take it and move on", you grunt, frustrated. finally there's night wind going up above the ground, and breathing becomes easier. Hoseok doesn't look at you like a rabid dog anymore; instead, he is simply irritated.
"you will do well to remember that no contact with royal guards is accepted, even if it's a foolish and badly acted out attempt at saving their life". it sounds like advice this time, not scolding.
"and here i was thinking that i will get like a day off or some other reward for keeping the king's General safe", you feign disappointment, letting a smile light your face. Hoseok turns around and finally leaves you alone, throwing over his shoulder,
"the reward is keeping your hand intact".
"also a pepper ointment, right?" you're still desperate. he gives you one look from the edge of the garden.
"my back's no good. i will turn into a domestic terrorist if i don't find something for the pain soon".
the message delivered, you go back to lilies, but in the darkness, only the white heads are more or less visible.
you spend a little more time among the flowers, breathing in their garteful, sweet scent, and realize that now that you've watered them, the smell might even reach the king's windows.
you return to the maids' quarters under the bright shining of bluish-silver moon. pretty like an apple of Yoongi's cheek. it's foreign, different from the one at home. it's almost like it's even turned the wrong side; but its light so bright, mystical, it makes your path home visible.
Jiyoung isn't asleep, sitting alone in the small porch of the building like she's waiting for you.
you make another attempt at speaking with her and finally she raises her head and looks you in the face.
"where have you been?" there's a certain tear in her voice and you hear it loud and clear.
you sit yourself beside her.
"in the Night Garden".
her eyes narrow.
"why?"
"i suddenly thought of what happened to lilies tonight. the day was too hot".
she sighs, defeated, lowers her head a little.
"you are becoming a good gardener".
"i have always been good with plants and flowers", you retort, not without pride, "never had a single plant die on me. it comes to me intuitively".
Jiyoung doesn't have energy to argue.
"why are you upset?" you ask gently.
she is quiet, sore.
"is it about Taehyung?"
silence. the pupils of her eyes search the ground.
"listen, he is like a brother to me. cool, innocent, kind brother".
"you've known him for three weeks", she protests quietly, a steel undersound in her voice. her Seokjin eyes are too expressive, you see she is hurting.
"it feels longer".
how do you explain it to her? that he is Taehyung the bear. Taehyung the boy who got lost in the Swedish countryside and walked on into the unknown land, admiring simplistic and beautiful scenery. individualistic, smart, emotionally deep Taehyung, and you will not let go of him if that's what Jiyoung wants you to do; but you will also not take what's hers. your hand lies on her shoulder.
"you shouldn't worry. i stick around him because he invents nice things and doesn't kick me around like other guards. when i see him, he only speaks about you every other minute".
she presses her lips together, in the darkness the blush on her cheeks is barely visible. her hand slides into the folds of her hanbok, she is still dressed formally from the day.
"he gave me..."
"the music box", you gasp. it looks better, updated, like he has worked on it further. Jiyoung smiles, easier now, and gives it to you to take a look.
"such a pretty thing", you whisper, winding it up, and you both listen to the gentle melody. even the trees listen. the melody of Singularity sounds clearer, better, with nuance; it's obvious that Taehyung has improved the design and the appearance. the beauty of the music reminds you of something else.
"you've seen Ji-, that counselor of his?"
Jiyoung is still consumed by the box.
"the king's advisor? the masked ghost?" her lips curve in a smile. "very few people saw him. but i shouldn't be surprised you did, didn't you?"
you nod.
"what do you know about him?"
"he is as inner circle as it gets. the lilies you took care of today", she motiones with her hand, "are there because they are counselor's favourite flowers. there are whispers that king and him grew up together, were childhood friends, like brothers. king trusts him like himself".
you think about it. Yoonmin? please god, no.
"he is his eyes, his ears, people say he can move like a shadow, stay unnoticed. nobody knows his name", Jiyoung adds. she speaks about it, but her mind is far away, with another man belonging to the same group. then finally her eyes grow a little more serious.
"what you did today was incredibly stupid".
you frown. all opinions match, disappointingly,
"and unexpected. please. don't push your luck. i am starting to like you, you're one of the few people i can speak to. i don't want to see you hanged".
you grin.
"the king is less shallow than you all seem to think of him".
"the king has a temper. you've only been here a while. when he really gets going, it's scary".
you can't push back the growing grin.
"did you see how he jumped from the balcony today?" you whisper, "it's no less that two and a half meters up there".
"i did. he never hides behind his guards, he leads them".
"it was really hot".
Jiyoung's sigh is shaky. what she does, in the modern world is called a facepalm.
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🐈 Daechwita Kitty Crochet 🍊
This is actually my most favorite thing I've ever made. Hurry up yoongi, I am very clearly losing it 🥹
Follow me on instagram for more kpop/crochet content! @tastronautcrochets
I modified this pattern by chezloopy on Etsy ~
A mad kings omega
So this idea was inspired by Yoongi's Daechwita music video,
Alpha King Yoongi is known for his ruthlessness and showing no mercy to anyone who dares to piss him off, he uses fear as a weapon against people but one thing he still hadn't found yet was his predestined omega. Only the 6 six friends he has know of his belief in predestined mates and he had not sropped looking but one day while visiting the omega market he spots the one he'd been looking for and of course he made sure to mark her on the way back to his palace.
Five years with D-2 / Five years with Daechwita