#yawnzbf

[yawnzbf]

꩜ tipsy soobin

drunk, lovesick soobin after the shoot wrap up, being picked up by his partner <3

the tipsy live altered my brain chemistry fr plspslspls read it!! #drabble

the bass was low and humming quietly in the background, soju bottles nearly empty, the table consisted empty plates and bottles, and after the wrap up of their shoot, soobin had become a problem.

not a loud problem, perse, not a messy one either. he was a giggly, boneless, mushy blushing mess of a problem— curled into the corner of the both with his cheeks smooshed against the faux leather.

“nooo,” soobin whined, drawing the word as yeonjun clicked another photo across the table. “don’t send that.”

but it was simply too late.

beomgyu was ready, with phone in one hand, eyes lit with mischief as he snapped yet another picture of soobin, and sent directly to his ‘beloved’s’ number.

“hyung you’re so down bad,” kai giggled, his own face flushed a pretty pink. he flopped forward, chin landing on soobin’s shoulder. “you have been chanting yn’s name for an hour now.”

“have not,” soobin mumbled into his palms, which had migrated to cover the entirety of his pretty face. but his ears— the tips of them, burned crimson, and the flush has crept down his neck, disappearing beneath the collar of his tank. his chest felt tight in the best, worst way. everytime someone said yn, his heart would do a little flip.

yn. yn. yn.

“you literally just said it three times in a row,” taehyun deadpanned, swirling the last of his drink. he was the most functional of the five, which meant he was only mostly drunk. soobin keened, hiding deeper into himself.

as he fished out his own phone, fumbling with the lock, struggling to unlock it under the table.

he didn’t realize he’d started chanting you name out loud again until beomgyu doubled over mid laugh.

“there he goes. ‘yn. yn. where are they? wheres my yn..’”

twenty minutes later, you pushed open the restaurant’s door, the chime signalling your very presence in the room.

the scene was exactly as chaotic as described. beomgyu and hyuka were arm-wrestling (badly), taehyun was sipping water like a disappointed father, and yeonjun was attempting to put a paper crown on soobin’s head.

but soobin—

soobin was slumped sideways in his chair, head tilted back, eyes half-closed. his cheeks were flushed all the way down to his collarbones. his lips were slightly parted, and his fingers were loosely curled around an empty glass.

“soobin,” you said softly, stepping close.

the effect was immediate.

his eyes flew open. blinked once. twice. then his entire face lit up—a smile so wide, so radiant, so painfully genuine that his cheeks must have hurt. he looked like he’d just seen the sun after a long winter.

“yn,” he breathed, voice cracking.

before you could say another word, soobin lunged forward and buried his face into your stomach, arms wrapping around your waist like a koala. he was warm, so warm, and he smelled like soju and vanilla and home.

“you came,” he mumbled into your knitted sweater. “you came.”

you laughed softly, threading fingers through his dark hair. “of course i came. you texted me, didn’t you? you ruined my nightly routine though”

“deserved,” soobin said, voice thick. “missed you. missed you so much it hurt here.” he pulled back just enough to press his palm flat against his own chest, right over his heart. “it was beating your name. thump-thump-yn-thump-thump.”

behind him, yeonjun mouthed oh my god to the rest of the table.

you cupped soobin’s face in both hands, thumbs brushing his burning cheekbones. “you’re so drunk, baby.”

“mm,” soobin agreed, leaning into your touch like a cat starved of affection. “drunk on you.” he giggled at his own stupid line, then grew serious. “no, wait. that was bad. but i mean it. i mean everything. i love—mmf.”

you gently pressed a thumb to his lips before he could confess to the entire restaurant. “is that so?” you murmured, playing along, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear.

“mhm. and your hands are so soft. like clouds. clouds that love me.” he turned his head, pressing a clumsy kiss to the center of your palm. then he grew serious as he struggled to stand on his own two legs. “i missed you. three hundred. no. a thousand hundred.”

he started leaning in, eyes fluttering shut, lips puckering for more than just your palm—aiming for your lips but landing somewhere near the corner of your jaw. before he could try again, a chorus of protests erupted.

you laughed, pressing one firm kiss to soobin’s forehead (he whined at the loss of your lips), then looped an arm around his waist. “c’mon, soobin-ah. time to go.”

“‘m not tired,” he mumbled, even as his head dropped to your shoulder.

“i know, baby. let’s go anyway.”

he went willingly, waving sloppily over his shoulder at the boys. “bye, friends! i love you! not as much as yn. but i love you!”

“we know,” four voices yelled back.

getting soobin home was an adventure.

he stopped to point at three different cats (“yn, look. that’s us. because you’re pretty and i’m fluffy”), tried to convince you to carry him piggyback (“i’m light, yn, i’ve been skipping carbs”), and spent a solid five minutes staring at your shared apartment door because the “color reminded him of your eyes.”

the door was beige.

but you loved him so much it made you dizzy.

inside, you guided him through the familiar motions: shoes off, his shirt and tank off as well (he pouted the entire time, cold without it), face wiped with a cool cloth (he leaned into the pressure like a cat), and a large glass of water coaxed down his throat. he threw a small tantrum when you suggested brushing his teeth—“but i’m tired, yn, and you’re being mean”—but gave in the moment you kissed his nose.

by the time you both tumbled into bed, the clock read 1:34 am. you were exhausted, the kind of bone-deep tired that comes from caring for a drunk, giant, adorable boyfriend. soobin, still flushed and loose-limbed, curled into your side like he belonged there (he did), his cheek pressed to your chest.

you ran your fingers through his hair. he sighed, content.

sleep was pulling you under, soft and heavy, when—

soobin sat up.

“soobin,” you groaned, not even opening your eyes. “bedtime.”

but he was already moving, pressing clumsy, open-mouthed kisses to your jaw, your chin, the corner of your mouth, your nose, your eyelids, your forehead—every inch of your face he could reach, each kiss punctuated by a mumbled “love you” or “missed you so much” or simply your name, breathed like a secret.

“soobin,” you tried again, voice thick with exhaustion. your hand found the back of his neck, fingers curling into the soft baby hairs there. “baby. sleep.”

“‘m not done,” he protested, pulling back just enough to look at you with those big, hazy, adoring eyes. his lips were pink and kiss-swollen, his cheeks still that beautiful drunk-flush. “i have to kiss you. it’s important.”

you laughed, soft and sleepy, and gave up.

with a gentle but firm hand, you guided him back down—not to sleep, but just enough. you tilted his chin with your thumb, leaned in, and pressed one last kiss to his lips. chaste. sweet. the kind of kiss that said i’m here, i’ve got you, we have got forever.

then you tucked his head into the crook of your arm, pulled him flush against your chest, and let your other hand resume its slow path through his hair.

“now sleep,” you murmured, already halfway gone.

soobin froze.

his brain—already sluggish, already swimming in you, already short-circuiting from the kiss and the warmth and the way you smelled and the fact that you held him like he was precious—completely crashed.

he blinked once then twice.

his heart, which had been hammering your name all night, finally just... stopped trying to form words.

oh, he thought, very intelligently. 

he didn’t move. didn’t breathe for a solid three seconds. just lay there, cradled against your chest, as you drifted off beneath him like it was nothing, like you hadn’t just rewired his entire nervous system with a single kiss and a hand in his hair.

your breathing evened out.

soobin stayed awake, staring at the soft curve of your jaw, utterly, hopelessly, spectacularly broken—in the best way possible.

“fuck,” he whispered to the dark room, very quietly, very reverently.

and then, because he was still a little drunk and a lot in love, he pressed one more kiss to your collarbone, buried his burning face against your neck, and let your heartbeat sing him to sleep.

[yawnzbf]

˚.🦴 ᵎᵎ omegyu

you have been desperate enough to get laid, what happens when a wrong number changes that? with a little begging and flirting, you finally manage to bag a baddie. isnt that great?

tw,, texting strangers, begging, mentions of nudity, mentions of sex and esex, desperate reader, bisexual reader, calling each other alpha omega, gooning, feelings, lmk if i missed smth. [minors proceed w caution], also happy 100th post ?!!

a/n,, so i was supposed to release the prince beoms x reader buttt i havent completed it yet. it will come out soon #trust!!

[yawnzbf]

—· ggum? yeonjun x gn! rea

it really wasn't your fault that the last piece of ggum had found its way to you, yeonjun, thought the exact opposite and made it your problem, because he was going to get that piece of ggum one way or the other.

tw, fluff, kissing, fighting for a piece of gum, food, eating food from s/o's mouth, lmk anything else :P (its lit so cute read it fr) reader is refered to as 'you'

the couch dipped under your weight as you settled in, the familiar give of the cushions pulling you both toward the middle. yeonjun was already there, his shoulder pressing into yours — not subtly, not even a little — as you turned the last piece of gum over in your fingers, the wrapper crinkling loud enough that there was no pretending he hadn't noticed.

you could feel him looking.

you took your time. smoothed the wrapper flat. folded it back.

his shoulder dug in harder.

you glanced sideways. he was doing the eyes. the full, unashamed, pleading eyes, his gaze flicking between the gum and your face like he genuinely believed this would work on you.

it was a little funny how often it did.

not today though.

you let a smile pull at the corner of your mouth, held the little pink strip up between two fingers — dangled it just in front of him, close enough that he could probably smell the strawberry watermelon — and watched his expression tip toward hopeful.

then you leaned in, pressed the softest, quickest kiss to his lips.

and dropped the gum past your own.

the flavour hit immediately. sweet and bright, summer-fruit sugary, and you let your eyes close for just a second to be extra about it because you both knew — had always known — that this was both of your favourites. that was what made it so good.

"that's not fair," yeonjun said.

you chewed, slow and deliberate. "too bad."

"yn—"

"you should've taken it before, babe." you were already laughing a little, the words coming out warm and unhelpful. "if you wanted it that bad."

he made a sound like you'd genuinely wronged him. and then he turned toward you with a look that made you press your lips together to keep from smiling wider.

you saw it coming just late enough to make it fun.

you pulled back. he followed. you twisted and tried to slide off the cushion — he caught your waist just in time, and then somehow, in the laughing scramble of it, you were on your back and he was there, hovering over you, one hand braced by your head, looking down at you with an expression that said he was taking the gum and there was simply nothing to discuss.

you chewed once more. slow. taunting.

your arms found their way up around his shoulders anyway, lacing together at the back of his neck, because this was the thing about yeonjun — even when you were being absolutely insufferable to each other, there was nowhere you'd rather be than exactly here.

his eyes dropped to your mouth.

he kissed you softly at first. easy. the kind of kiss that made your thoughts go a little loose and unhurried, and you felt yourself sink back into the cushions, fingers curling at his nape—

and then he tilted his head and kissed you deeper, and somewhere in the warm, distracted middle of it, while your brain was busy doing absolutely nothing useful, he coaxed your lips apart—

gone.

you blinked.

he pulled back and looked down at you, chewing, with the most insufferably satisfied expression that had ever existed on any face in the history of faces.

"strawberry watermelon." he nodded, thoughtful. like a critic. like he hadn't just stolen it out of your mouth while you were too busy being fond of him to notice. "really good."

the silence lasted about two seconds.

you stared up at him. breathless. your lips felt raw, kissed-out, and your heart was hammering so hard you could feel it in your throat.

he was looking at you like he'd won. like he knew exactly what he'd done.

"get your own pack next time," you managed. your voice came out thinner than you wanted.

"or," he said, ducking his head closer, his mouth brushing the shell of your ear, "i could just keep stealing yours."

"yeonjun."

"mm?"

you stared up at him. he gazed back down, chewing your gum, looking like he had absolutely no notes.

the worst part — the most embarrassing, un-take-back-able part — was that you wanted him to kiss you again, and it had nothing to do with the gum anymore.

he knew. of course he knew. the smile he was trying to keep flat gave him away entirely.

"next time," he said, dropping his voice low just to be mean about it, "get two packs."

you pulled him back down by the collar.

the ggum was gone. you really didn't care.

[yawnzbf]

💌 wrong room

bestfriend's boyfriend's flatmate! beomgyu x reader

You had never thought that you'd be breaking into your bestfriend's boyfriend's room in your twenties just to set up the mood for your friend— jia and her long distance boyfriend minhyuk. But here you were standing in his apartment, in his room. That's what you thought because this very much so wasn't his room.

tw kissing strangers on the first meet (it's okay cuz it's beoms), making out in a closet, suggestive themes, privacy invasion,, lmk if I missed out on smth [1.7k wc]

you double-checked the apartment number on your phone for the fifth time. 307. this was it. your best friend, jia, had been stressing for weeks about surprising her long-distance boyfriend, minhyuk, for their one-year anniversary. she was stuck at a last-minute work thing, so you, being the world’s greatest friend, had volunteered to go ahead, decorate his room, and get your phone ready to film his priceless reaction.

the key was under the mat, just like she said. you slipped inside the surprisingly neat apartment, kicked off your shoes, and tiptoed down the hallway. your heart was pounding with excitement. you replayed jia's instructions in your head: "his room is the second door on the right. you can't miss it."

second door on the right. got it.

you counted. first door on the right. second door on the right. you paused, hand on the door handle. this was it. you pushed it open and found a clean, somewhat minimalist room with a bed against the far wall and a guitar propped up in the corner. perfect.

an hour later, you stood back, proud of your handiwork. balloons, fairy lights, a banner that read "happy anniversary, babe!", and rose petals scattered on the bed. you dimmed the bedside lamp to a soft, romantic glow. your phone was propped up against a stack of books on the dresser, camera pointed at the door. all you had to do was wait.

and wait you did. fifteen minutes turned into thirty. you were about to text jia when you heard it—the front door opening, the jingle of keys, the soft thud of the door closing.

finally.

a jolt of pure adrenaline shot through you. but where was jia? she was supposed to be here before him! panic bubbled for a second before you shoved it down. maybe she was right behind him. you just had to do the thing.

you took a deep breath, finger hovering over the 'record' button on your phone. you heard footsteps, slow and deliberate, approaching the door. the handle turned.

the door swung open.

and your jaw literally dropped.

this was not minhyuk.

this man was… a problem. that's for sure. a tall, lean wolf in the body of an angel. raven hair fell artfully over his sharp, intelligent eyes hidden behind his thick black-rimmed glasses. he was still in what looked like a stylish, slightly rumpled work shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing veined hands and lean forearms.

he blinked at the balloons. then at the fairy lights. then at the rose petals. then at you, crouched awkwardly behind your phone.

"…did i leave my door unlocked again?" he asked, his voice a low, melodic drawl that was way deeper than it had any right to be.

you scrambled to your feet, face burning hotter than the sun. "oh my god. oh, god. you're not minhyuk."

his bewildered expression melted into a slow, devastating smirk. he leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest. "no. i'm beomgyu. the significantly cooler flatmate. and you are?"

"the world's biggest idiot," you groaned, hiding your face in your hands. "jia had asked me to decorate minhyuk's room— my friend. it's a surprise. she told me the second door on the right… but i think i went into the second door on the left instead."

beomgyu glanced over his shoulder into the hallway, then back at you. he pressed his lips together, but his eyes were dancing with laughter. "yeah. yeah, you did. my room is the second on the left. his is the second on the right." he let out a low whistle. "you really went all out. for the wrong guy."

you wanted to dissolve into the floor. "i'm so sorry. i'll clean everything up. i'll—"

"no, no," he interrupted, stepping further into the room. he trailed a finger over the 'happy anniversary, babe!' banner, his smirk growing. "so all of this… the mood lighting, the rose petals… you did all this for minhyuk ?"

"for jia," you corrected, mortified. "i was going to film it. it was supposed to be cute."

he slowly turned to look at you, his gaze a little too intense, a little too amused. "and instead, you filmed me walking into my own room like a confused toddler, i can't wait to see the footage." he nodded towards your still-recording phone. "you're still on, by the way."

"oh!" you lunged for the phone and fumbled to stop the recording, your fingers clumsy with embarrassment.

while you were flustered, beomgyu picked up a single rose petal from his pillow and twirled it between his fingers. "so," he said, his voice a soft murmur. "you go through all this trouble for your friend; break into a stranger's apartment and even decorate a random man's bedroom with fairy lights." he looked up from under his lashes, that dangerously cute smile back in place. "you're either crazy, or the most thoughtful person i've ever met. i'm hoping for the latter."

your heart stuttered. "i'm… just a good friend."

"lucky friends," he commented, taking a step closer. "so, how are we going to fix this, 'world's biggest idiot'? minhyuk could be home any minute."

that snapped you back to reality. "oh god, right. jia! she'll be here too. i have to re-do everything in his room, oh god just take me now"

beomgyu clapped his hands together. "alright, no need to ask the deities, i'll help; but you owe me"

twenty minutes later, you were both in minhyuk's (correct) room, working at a frantic pace. beomgyu was a surprisingly efficient and hilarious assistant. he blew up balloons until he was lightheaded, dramatically draping himself over the desk. he 'accidentally' threw a handful of rose petals at your head, laughing when they got stuck in your hair. at one point, while you were trying to tape the banner to the wall, he came up behind you, his chest nearly pressing against your back to reach a corner you couldn't get.

"need a hand?" he breathed against your ear.

you nearly swallowed your tongue. "i'm fine," you squeaked, your body going rigid.

he just chuckled, a low, knowing sound, and his fingers brushed yours as he took the tape from your hand. you were hyper-aware of every single point of contact. the scent of his cologne—sandalwood and something clean and citrusy—wrapped around you. this was bad. very, very bad.

"can i ask you something?" he said, not moving away.

"you're going to anyway, aren't you?"

he was about to answer, something that you knew would have stirred up your insides even more, but the second he opened his mouth— you both heard the keys jiggle, this time accompanied by a girl's voice.

"they're here!" you hissed. fishing out your phone yet again and setting it up against the windowsill, with a last touch, you set it to record as beomgyu pulled you in.

he grabbed your arm. “in here.” he yanked open the closet door, pushed you inside, and slipped in after you, pulling the door shut until it was just a crack of light.

the closet was pitch black and impossibly tiny. you were pressed chest-to-chest with beomgyu, his face inches from your own. you could feel every inhale he took. in the darkness, you felt him shift, and then a sliver of light from a crack in the door illuminated his features. he wasn't looking at the door.

his eyes dropped to your lips. then back to your eyes. then to your lips again. you realised, your brain was already short-circuiting. it was a trick, and it was working very well. he tilted his head, leaning in, his breath warm on your mouth.

he was going to kiss you. in a closet. while your best friend was having her romantic moment three feet away.

just as his lips were about to brush yours, you slapped your palm directly over his mouth.

his eyes widened, then crinkled at the corners in pure amusement.

you leaned in, your nose bumping his, and whispered as fiercely as you could, "are you insane?"

on the other side of the closet door, you heard minhyuk gasp. "oh, jia… you did all this? thank you baby."

you held your breath, your hand still clamped over beomgyu's mouth, your other hand pressed flat against the wall to keep from falling into him. beomgyu's eyes never left yours. slowly, deliberately, he lifted one of his hands. his fingers wrapped gently around your wrist. your heart felt like it was going to explode.

he didn't pull your hand away. he just held it. and then, keeping his gaze locked on yours, he turned his head slightly and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to the inside of your palm.

your entire arm went numb. a shiver ran down your spine.

he lowered your hand, his thumb stroking a small circle on your wrist. he leaned in, his lips now hovering right next to your ear. "yeah," he whispered, his voice a warm, velvety rumble that went straight through you. "i think i might be."

and before you could react, before you could even breathe, his hand slid to the back of your neck, and he closed the distance.

it wasn't a gentle first kiss. it was confident, deliberate, and utterly consuming. his lips were soft but insistent, tasting faintly of the coffee he'd been drinking earlier. you froze for a single, terrified second, acutely aware of the couple on the other side of the thin closet door, cooing over rose petals.

and then your hand fisted in his silky hair, and you kissed him back.

his lips moulded against yours like he’d been waiting all night—like he’d known you for years. your back hit the closet wall with a soft thud. one of your hands came up to brace against the shelf above his head; the other curled into his shirt, pulling him closer. he made a small, satisfied sound against your mouth.

outside, jia said, “wait, where’s yn? yn was supposed to be here helping—”

your eyes flew open.

beomgyu pulled back just enough to whisper against your lips, “oops.”

[yawnzbf]

𐙚 daydreamin'— hyuka x gn! rea

you see him everyday like a ritual and on the days you don't, you sit by the library daydreaming abt him with your chin in the palm of your hand.

tw, lit none! js pure fluff, daydreamer reader, inspo is daydreamin' by queen ariana!! [0.9k] lisn to the song while reading!!!

the library was supposed to be your sanctuary.

quiet. predictable. yours.

that was before him.

you'd noticed kai the way you notice a song for the first time— gradually, then all at once. it started three weeks ago when he'd walked into the university library with his backpack slung over one shoulder and a slightly lost expression on his face, like he was new to the building but entirely comfortable in his own skin. he'd paused in the doorway, scanned the room, and then— inexplicably— smiled at nothing in particular, like the shelves of books had personally delighted him.

you'd looked back down at your notes and promptly forgotten every word you'd just highlighted.

now it was tuesday again.

kai tuesday, your brain had started calling it, which was embarrassing enough that you'd never said it out loud.

you were at your usual table by the tall windows, the afternoon light coming in gold and lazy across the pages of your textbook. you had a deadline. you had three chapters left to read. you had every intention of being productive.

then the door opened.

you didn't even have to look up. you just knew— some stupid, traitorous part of you had apparently memorized the particular rhythm of his footsteps, the way they were unhurried, like he had all the time in the world and was happy about it.

you looked up anyway.

kai was unwinding a light scarf from around his neck, cheeks flushed pink from the autumn air outside. his hair was slightly windswept. he was wearing that oversized cream-colored sweater again, the one with the small embroidered star near the collar that you absolutely had not noticed multiple times.

he found his usual spot— two tables diagonal from yours, just within comfortable peripheral vision, which your heart had decided was both wonderful and cruel— and dropped into the chair with a contented little exhale.

you put your chin in your hand.

your textbook stopped existing.

the thing about kai— the thing— was that he was so entirely, uncomplicatedly himself in a way that made your chest ache a little.

he laughed too loud for a library sometimes, then immediately covered his mouth with both hands, eyes wide with apologetic delight. he brought snacks in little containers and shared them with whoever was sitting near him without a second thought. once, you'd watched him spend ten full minutes helping a freshman find a book, leading her through the stacks with the focused energy of someone who had been personally appointed guardian of the dewey decimal system.

he hummed while he worked. quietly, almost under his breath, like he wasn't entirely aware he was doing it.

you were aware. you were devastatingly aware.

get it together, you told yourself, not for the first time. you've spoken to him twice. you don't even properly know him.

but that was the wild thing— it felt like you did. it felt like something about him was already familiar, like a word on the tip of your tongue, like a melody you couldn't quite place but knew you loved.

you were so deep in your very responsible daydream (you were, in this version, very cool and funny, and he was laughing at something you'd said, and there were warm drinks involved) that you didn't notice him stand up.

you didn't notice him walk over.

"hey."

you startled so hard your pen rolled off the table.

kai caught it.

of course he did.

he held it out to you, and when you looked up— properly up, right at him, close enough to notice that his eyes were warm and the flush on his cheeks hadn't fully faded— he was smiling. not a polite smile. a real one, a little crooked, like something about this moment genuinely pleased him.

"sorry," he said, not sounding very sorry at all. "you had this look on your face like you were somewhere very far away."

"i was reading," you said, with what you felt was remarkable composure given the circumstances.

he glanced at your textbook, then back at you. "it's upside down."

a pause.

"i learn better that way," you said.

he laughed— that real, unguarded laugh you'd catalogued from two tables away— and pulled out the chair across from you.

"i'm kai," he said, settling in like he'd always been there. "i've seen you here every tuesday. i keep meaning to say hi."

something warm and ridiculous unfurled in your chest.

"i've seen you too," you admitted, because apparently your mouth had decided honesty was the play. "the star on your sweater. I love it."

he looked down at it, delighted. "you pay attention."

"sometimes," you said, "to certain things"

the look he gave you then was soft around the edges, curious and pleased, like you'd said something worth thinking about. he leaned forward slightly, elbows on the table.

"tell me something," he said, like you'd known each other for years. "what were you actually thinking about just now?"

you looked at him— the windswept hair, the sweater, the smile, the easy warmth of him sitting across from you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"nothing important," you said.

you were absolutely thinking about him.

he seemed to know it anyway.

his smile went a little softer, a little more certain, and he reached over and nudged your textbook right-side up.

"well," he said, "i'm here now. so you don't have to think about nothing."

outside, the autumn light went golden. inside, you forgot entirely about your deadline. which you didn't mind even a little bit.

[yawnzbf]

where the willow waits | c.bg [teaser]

prince!cbg x gn!knight!reader

synopsis: Two children once promised each other forever. Two years apart were never supposed to change that.

Returning to the palace after completing your knighthood should have been nothing more than a long-awaited reunion—but kingdoms change, people grow, and home is not always waiting exactly as you remember it.

wc: 8.6k (in progress), 584 for the teaser

warnings: childhood friends to lovers, mutual pining, minor violence, blood and minor injuries, mentions of war, politics, panic attack/emotional breakdown, themes of loneliness and isolation

on the occasion of hitting 250 flwrs <33 here's a teaser to my upcoming prince!beomgyu x knight!reader fic 🫶

The palace smelled exactly the same, cedar polished into ancient floors. The fresh flowers had changed every morning, incense drifting somewhere deeper within the eastern halls. Two years disappeared beneath your feet with every familiar turn.

Servants looked up as you passed, some stopped entirely, others smiled in quiet surprise.

“...guard yn?”

“is that really—”

“you’ve come back.”

You answered every greeting with a nod, unable to slow your pace, not today, today there was only one destination. The eastern wing, his room—the one you had spent your entire childhood in. You had almost reached the final corridor when someone caught a hold of your sleeve.

You stopped on instinct, so abruptly that loose strands of hair fell across your eyes.

“there you are.” the voice was older than you remembered. You turned around and standing before you was, maiden Eria, one hand still clutching your sleeve as though she feared that if she let go, you would disappear again.

For a heartbeat, she simply stared, then her free hand rose without permission, “...you’ve grown taller,” and her palm rested against your cheek. warm, exactly as you had remembered. “and thinner.”

You laughed at that.

“I’ve been told frontier food isn’t famous for generosity.”

“as if I care what the frontier feeds its soldiers,” she pinched your cheek.

“I’ve sent enough sweets through Master Jorin to feed an army.”

“then perhaps the army finished them before they reached me.”

That made her laugh, the kind you hadn’t heard in years. Without thinking, she pulled you into a brief embrace, it only lasted a second before she let go. Palace etiquette.

But for that second, you were eight again. The child who used to fall asleep in the corner of her room before you were assigned to the crown prince. She stepped back, looking over you again, her fingers brushed the edge of your cloak.

“you really did become a knight.”

“I suppose I did.”

“you’ve got another scar,” she frowned tracing your forearm.

“It’s a small one.”

“they’re all small ones until they’re not.”

“it healed, and...I’ve missed you too, Maiden Eria.” she blinked, then sighed.

“so polite now.”

“I was always polite,” she gave you a look in disagreement.

"so..." she clasped her hands together. "have you eaten?"

You shook your head, “I’ve just arrived.”

“exactly.”

“I was actually going to see—”

“the prince,” she finished for you.

“yes,” you breathed out, itching to see him.

But then, something very small passed across her face. It was immediately gone just as it appeared. “I’ve waited for two years.” you said, before you could stop yourself.

“you know,” she said quietly, “he has too.” Your heartbeat quickened at that.

“then I’d better stop wasting time,” you made a step around her, already on your feet waving her a hand in promise you’d talk with her again. Soon. Just not now.

She almost tried to stop you, but decided against.

The eastern wing, was not far away now, you still remembered exactly how many steps it took you to reach his room— the room that had belonged to you for nearly ten years. You wondered whether he’d finally learned to keep it tidy. It was doubtful but the thought made you smile.

You imagined pushing open the doors, imagined him looking up from whatever diplomatic report he had undoubtedly been pretending to read, then imagined the expression on his face. Would he pretend not to be excited?

Would he complain first?

Or would he simpl—

"knight yn."

[yawnzbf]

. ݁˖ 𓂇 runway

fashion closet assistant! soobin x team leader! rea [DEVIL WEARS PRADA AU]

soobin lands his dream job to work at the runway magazines, working alongside his team leader should be easy and simple but that changes when soobin catches miranda priestly's eye.

next..

[yawnzbf]

IS THAT MY TA MU YN?⭑

the hottest professor pool at seogwang university has taken interest in beomgyu's newest ta mu yn! while mu yn is busy juggling these men left and right and collecting enough free meals to survive their entire phd —the five professors are busy fighting amongst themselves for mu yn!

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lmk if y'all liked it !