Yeonjun Scenario - Tumblr Posts

(give me that) can't sleep love | cyj

you’ve been managing yeonjun flawlessly for a few good years now, but there are just some things you can’t keep under control. the obvious solution? a blind date that skews towards the unexpected.

pairing: solo idol!yeonjun x reader rating: T genre: romance warnings: none! like the narrative has a swear word like idk once? word count: 3.5k 

author’s notes: yeah it’s not actually valentine’s day but we write for a completely new fandom because we simply have no restraint !! just kidding, i’ve actually been hoping to extend my writing for other groups, but i haven’t yet because i’m extremely slow and a bit fickle. this is my first time writing for anything txt, but i hope to do so a bit more in the future! 

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Maybe your mom was right. Maybe the entertainment industry just isn’t for you.

She’d actively warned you against dedicating your time to, well, anything involving the glitz and glam, but you just hadn’t listened. There had been good opportunities, great experiences you’d never get anywhere else. For the most part, your choices had helped that expectation become that reality; you’d met people not just anyone got to meet, and you’d definitely had a substantial amount of unique encounters.

Still, you were aware that the only reason you’d ever gotten the chance to taste a little bit of the high life was because you had Yeonjun on your side. Choi Yeonjun — the rising star of the idol world, with a better career trajectory than the guy who owned Apple, it seemed. His job was the access pass to everything you enjoyed. Unfortunately, your ticket to all the good things was also the key to your prolonged misery.

As his manager, you have a ton of roles to play — logistics coordinator, scheduler, alarm clock, wardrobe checker, and, on one unfortunate incident, last-minute make-up artist when the original girl had been a no-show. You were supposed to be busy at every turn, but Yeonjun on the job was something of a well-oiled machine, learning how to feed himself while you were on the phone and follow the line-up to the letter as long as he was awake enough to do it. It’s possible you could blame him for all the downtime you got that had led to the bulk of the problem.

Actually, you aren’t sure when it started or even how. Maybe it had happened somewhere in the middle of all his showcases and shows, sandwiched between the constant fever of communication and movement. Maybe it had come up in those hectic car rides where you’d spent a ton of time reminding him of what to do and what to expect. Or maybe it had grown with every time you had to wake him up in one of many lonely hotel rooms, with his head half-buried in the pillow to muffle the sleepy groans he’d use to respond to your soft voice.

Whenever it was, all you could be sure of was that you liked him. A lot. Maybe even with the time you’d come to know him, after all these years, a part of you was ready to say you loved him.

But that was the biggest barrier in the job, wasn’t it? Managers are supposed to stop their idols from dating, not want to do it with them. For the most part, you’ve been successful in holding yourself back from doing something stupid, which is technically the bare minimum for you. These days, though, you aren’t sure what it is; maybe you’re just on edge from all the work in this year’s promotional stint, and that kind of contributes to a weakened mentality, or some kind of wack explanation like that, but you find yourself more often losing your train of thought when you’re with him. Even without detailing the specifics to your friends and co-workers, they’ve noticed something was bothering you. They’d urged you to relieve yourself of your duties a little, maybe hire a co-manager to do all the menial stuff, but you know that’s not really the issue. Only one person — Sunyoung, Yeonjun’s wardrobe stylist — had managed to hit the nail on the head semi-accurately.  

“Look, I get it,” she’d said one evening, after she’d shooed Yeonjun out of the dressing room so he could strap on his in-ear piece and prepare for the stage. You were supposed to be running around like a headless chicken, making sure everything was in check, but you were just slumped on the couch in the dressing room playing some dumb shark game your nephew had downloaded onto your phone. “You’re tired. You’re lonely. You can’t even go out for a cup of coffee without worrying about Yeonjun. But he’s fine. You can relax a little.”

“I’m totally relaxed,” you’d mumbled, watching your shark devour a poor surfer on your screen. “I’m fine.”

“Then you should get out more. Leave all of this behind and meet new people. Go on a date. Listen,” she’d covered your phone with her palm, and you heard the telltale music of your game coming to a bitter end. “Do something fun. Go on a date, seriously. I can set you up. It doesn’t even have to be anything serious, ____________! Just do something not work-related for once next week, and get this toxicity or whatever out of your system.”

You didn’t have the heart to say no or the courage to admit that nothing really would happen if that date wasn’t with Yeonjun, considering how far gone you were, so you’d just agreed.

Sunyoung had set you up for a Valentine’s Day date. Ironically, while the point was supposedly to get your mind off of Yeonjun on that day, he had a scheduled fan sign in Sinchon that you couldn’t miss out on. You had to pack an extra set of nicer clothes and a make-up bag that Yeonjun had eyed questioningly but silently as you’d entered the van.

“So how long is this fan sign?” He’d asked instead, immediately turning his attention to his phone the moment the van had started moving.

“Until six.”

“Then I don’t have another schedule, right?”

“No.” You don’t really ask why he’s curious; Yeonjun enjoys his personal time, as any celebrity does. “You’re free after. The van can take you home, or wherever else you need to be.”

He’d hummed appreciatively, fixated on his phone, and the rest of the ride is consumed in silence until you’d arrive at the venue.  

Yeonjun is whisked immediately into hair and make-up, and Sunyoung emerges from his dressing tent a few moments after he disappears inside, portable clothes steamer in hand. “Hey; did you get my text?”

You shake your head; you’d spent the car ride irresponsibly ignoring your phone, opting to gnaw on one of your nails instead.  

“I sent you the details of a reservation slot in this nice Italian place near Dongdaemun. Just drop my name and they’ll lead you to the table.”

“Look, I don’t really know if I want to do this,” you mumble sheepishly. “Blind dating isn’t my speed.”  

“Just go. It’ll be fine. If you don’t like him, you don’t like him. Just give it a shot. If all else fails, just enjoy the pasta,” she’d said with finality, bopping the nozzle of the steamer on your shoulder as she walks away.  

Yeonjun is out of the dressing room in twenty minutes, and even then, you’re not sure why it takes that long. You’ve consistently held the belief that Yeonjun doesn’t need make-up to look good, and you can hardly tell when he has it on, anyway. Still, it’s nice to see his stylist pushing his hair up into a neat, tiny quiff, and he’s changed from his standard white tee and jeans to something that resembles a casual suit. You guessed they did it for Valentine’s Day — emulating the coveted boyfriend look, and all that.  

“How do I look?” He asks you, right before you lead him onstage. His eyes follow your hand as you fix the front of his jacket quickly.  

“Great,” you reply. “As usual.”

“So until six, right?” His mouth is lifting into a grin that you can’t really understand.  

“Until six,” you confirm, now a little curious. “You got somewhere to be?”  

“Not sure,” he looks down at you enigmatically. “It’s my off time, so we’ll see what happens.”  

“Don’t do anything stupid,” you warn him, even though there’s no heat in your words. You know he’s not dumb enough to gallivant around doing things that will get him on Dispatch’s radar.  

He just laughs, giving you a small wink before he hops onstage, taking two steps at a time. The voices around you are drowned out by the screams that ensue once his fans see him.  

From then on, it’s just the same pattern for the next two hours — you, standing on one corner of the stage beside a guy from security, watching hundreds of girls in a line titter and scream and fall to their knees in front of the table where Yeonjun is seated at. They’ve all got albums in their hands, offering them to him reverently for a signature, and he takes them all good-naturedly, scrawling his name and some short, practically unreadable message somewhere around it while chatting with them about food he likes and what movies he’s into these days.  

Since it’s Valentine’s Day, a ton of girls come with romantic gifts — flowers, chocolates, goodies baskets. One girl even brings a large teddy bear, plopping it down in front of him unceremoniously and scaring Yeonjun into accidentally miswriting his signature. You and the rest of his management team aren’t really strict about prohibiting gifts, but Yeonjun refuses all of them — nicely, of course, but to the disappointment of many fans. Every time he says no, he glances at you, like he’s worried you’re going to tell him off if he says yes. You’d wondered once before if he was just trying to pin the blame on you, but you know he’s not cruel like that. Today doesn’t make a difference; he rejects people with apologetic looks as he gives their albums back, and you can see their dejection as they trod off the stage. The teddy bear girl had left the toy by the stairs in her disappointment.  

Yeonjun starts his closing ment at a quarter to six, and you tap the security guy next to you to remind him to bring him straight backstage after he’s finished before dashing off and ducking into the dressing room to change. You hear deafening cheers coupled with Yeonjun’s cute little goodbye! that signal the end of the fan sign, and you’ve just finished combing your hair back when Yeonjun walks in, idly patting his hair to see if everything is still in place.

“You look nice,” he observes casually, shrugging off his jacket. You try to avoid looking at him, even if his shoulders are so impossibly broad that you can’t really ever keep them out of your peripheral vision. “Do you have plans?”  

“As a matter of fact, I do,” you admit, unsure as to why you feel so guilty for saying so. You’re not dating, you have to remind yourself. And you’re allowed to go out after work.

“Meeting someone special?”  

“I’m not sure. Could be. I don’t know who I’m meeting, if I’m being honest.”  

His expression is unreadable; his fingers are twirling his marker in quick, hypnotizing circles.  

“Well, have fun,” he finally says, moving to hang his jacket on the back of a chair. “You should take the subway or something. Rush hour, and all that.”  

“Thanks for the tip.” His words sound pretty dismissive, but you’re not sure why you don’t just leave right away. Maybe you’re expecting him to say something, although it’s really more about what you wish he would rather than what he reasonably would, and he just continues to stare quietly, still toying with the Sharpie. “If you… need anything, just call. You know?”  

“I know,” he replies simply. “But I won’t bother you on a date. That’s just plain rude.”

“I’ll still answer. You know you’re more important than a blind date.”  

“Am I?” He looks amused. “Sounds like you take this job too seriously. Don’t worry about me. I’ll probably just go home after all. There’s a wildlife documentary I’m dying to catch.”  

You’re pretty sure you hadn’t meant the job, but you don’t correct him considering how that would out you. “Okay. See you bright and early tomorrow. Remember you’ve got a radio interview at nine, so can you please not stop by Starbucks before you go home? Please?”  

“Sure, sure,” he waves you and your nagging off, and you bolt out of the door, feeling kind of stupid and a little flushed.  

You take Yeonjun’s advice and get on the subway, except the first two trains Dongdaemun-bound are full to the brim and you have to squeeze yourself into the car of the third train by elbowing a couple of annoying teenage boys. The other problem you run into is that the train station exits are a fair way away from your destination, and you aren’t used to running in heels. You clip-clop your way down the sidewalk and hit every red light for the pedestrian crossings, much to your ire. At one point, you stop in the middle of the crossing and consider just storming back to the opposite end of the road and going home, but the subway station is too far away for that choice to make sense at that point anyway.  

By the time you get to the restaurant, you’re about fifteen minutes late and have to sit on the chairs for walk-in customers to give your feet a break. The guy at the front of the house has the decency to wait for you to catch your breath and even quietly point out that a lock of hair is stuck to your lip gloss before he asks if you have a reservation.  

You nervously pick at your dress and comb the ends of your hair as you follow him. You notice someone is already seated at the table, back to you and looking over the menu. You think about all the things that you want to say — sorry for being late, have you been waiting long?, I totally understand if you want to just leave — but there’s a weird nagging in the back of your mind that grows as you approach the table.  

Maybe Sunyoung had known you had a type, so to speak —lean, sharp, nicely dressed. Technically, that wasn’t such a difficult set of characteristics to find, but the fact that they were all rolled up into one package seated at your table, so similar to the guy you’ve pinned as ideal, was just kind of spooky. Even the fact that your blind date was laughing to himself at God knows what, alongside the fact that the way his angular shoulders moved up and down comically the way his would, isjust weird.

That, or…  

All thoughts of apologizing fly out the window once you reach the table. All you can do is stare, your ears ringing and your fingers clutching your wallet tightly. Your mind has completely disconnected from reality, and the first thing that tumbles out of your mouth is loud and a little crude.  

“Literally, what the hell?”  

All the guy at your table can do is laugh harder, clearly because he’s Lee Freaking Yeonjun, and he’s finding this situation sidesplittingly hilarious.  

“Yeonjun,” you hiss, your hand flying up and curling into a fist in an attempt to restrain yourself from grabbing him by the collar. “What are you doing here?”  

It takes him another half-minute to sober down, and he’s still chuckling a little as he answers. “Waiting for my date, obviously.”  

“Explain,” you demand, pointedly ignoring the looks couples from another table are giving you.

“Okay, but you have to sit down first,” he motions to the seat across from him. You pull it back and plop down onto it, gaze unwavering. He pauses, kind of dramatically, before continuing. “So there’s a set course meal, but I know you don’t like shellfish, so I thought—”

“I don’t want an explanation of the menu!” You shut your eyes, trying to block out the scene for a second. This can’t be happening. It makes no sense. “I want to know — wait, is this a prank?” 

“What? No, of course not.”  

“How are you here?”  

“I took the van here,” he says, once again elusive. “I actually thought you’d get here before me, but then I realized you probably had to walk a long way. Sorry.” He has the decency to look sheepish at this point.

“Why are you here?”

“I’m on a date?” He shakes his head. “What’s not clicking, ____________?”

“Don’t sass me. Please. Do me that one courtesy, if nothing else.” He watches you down your water in one go, still looking politely amused. “Did Sunyoung put you up to this?”  

“Actually, I asked her to rope you in.”

“Because?”  

“Do I have to spell it out for you?” He looks incredulous. “Because I like you. I thought that was kind of obvious from the get-go.”

Nothing is making sense to you. Your head is starting to hurt a little, maybe from the situation, maybe from the cold water you’d drunk too fast. “How was it obvious?” You thought you had been kind of obvious, which was why you had attempted to stay distant and pretty aloof for the past few months.  

“I listen to everything you say.”

“You have to,” you point out wearily. “That’s literally supposed to be our professional relationship.”  

“Yeah, but I wouldn’t have done it so well and so frequently if it were anyone else who were my manager,” he tries to reason, then continues when you look unconvinced. “And the gifts. I don’t take them.”  

“So?”  

“So, I don’t have a reason to not take them, technically. I just don’t because I don’t want you to think I’m accepting other people’s affections.”  

“That makes no sense. They’re your fans, so that has nothing to do with personal affections. You’re terrible at this.”  

“Okay, fine — but so are you!” His voice transitions into something a little accusing. “It’s not like you’ve been good at showing me you like me either.”  

He pauses, and for the first time in your life, you see something cross his face — uncertainty, maybe, or anxiety.  

“You do like me, don’t you?”  

The fire of indignant anger fueled by your initial shock dies down, and you’re left feeling a little embarrassed now. The entire walk here, you’d been torturing yourself with the fantasy that you could be somewhere else with Yeonjun on a date, but now that he’s seated across you in the flesh, you have no clue what to do or how to react properly. You toy with your napkin, but you feel his eyes burning into you.  

“Fine. I do, but,” you raise your voice a little at the conjunction; he doesn’t even take you seriously, choosing to look relieved instead. “But I’m not supposed to, Yeonjun. This is bad.”  

“Why? We’re at an old people restaurant. No one’s going to recognize us.”  

“Because I’m not supposed to go on dates with the idol I’m managing.”

“Be honest,” his bottom lip juts out. “Is that all you think of me?”  

Your lips thin out into a tight line; it’s easy to say no if you’re cheeky like him, but you’re pretty sure it’s easier to fire a manager for dating off-bounds than it is to cut off an idol’s career for the same reason.  

“Can’t we be, you know,” he points between the two of you. “Just us? Not manager and idol. Just you and me. Just for tonight. And we can see how it goes.”  

You hate that you cave so easily. You hate that you know you do because you like him so much. Your hand comes up to your face, trying to rub the ache away from your temples. A small, triumphant grin is growing on Yeonjun, like he already knows what you’re going to say. It occurs to you that after all this time you’ve come to know him well, he may have reached the same level of familiarity with you as well.

“Fine,” you mumble, and he doesn’t even contain his joy, pumping his fist into the air embarrassingly. “Fine. Just for tonight.”  

“Just for tonight,” he agrees. “Then we can see how it goes.”  

When you finally decide to meet his eye, you can’t help but laugh softly. He’s looking a little smug, and you want to smack him, or maybe just kiss him a little, but you just nudge his foot under the table. It doesn’t do anything to faze that little shit-eating expression on his face.  

“Don’t think this gets you off of waking up early,” you warn, but you never do get to threaten him effectively with just how soft your words are. “I’m still hauling you out of bed at seven.”

“As long as it’s you,” he grins. “And no one else.”  

“Shut up,” you try to bite back your smile, ducking your head instead to look at the menu when you feel it growing anyway. “Order your food.”  

You know he’s not looking at the menu even as you pretend to peruse it. Still, he falls quiet, eerily so, and you think he’s just staring until you feel something soft land on top of your hand.

Your eyes lift again to his face, and he’s still smiling, albeit a little more serenely, without that joking expression he’s practically trademarked. His hand squeezes yours tightly, and even when he loosens his hold, his palm never leaves yours.  

“You really do look beautiful tonight,” he says softly. “Happy Valentine’s Day, _______________.”  

𝐁𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 - 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐢 𝐘𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐧

royal reader x royal guard Yeonjun

Warnings: descriptions of punishment that are akin to torture, mentions of wounds, I think that’s all but please let me know if not!

Note: This is kinda all over the place and not much happens really but it’s something to read? I've been sitting on this since February and I just want it out of my drafts lol. Inspired by a scene from my favourite book series.

Word count: 833

It had been somewhat of an ordeal to be standing on the outside of the castle gates this night. It had involved sending the personal guards posted outside your bedroom on a wild goose chance for invisible intruders and outsmarting the watchers who patrolled the great gates. You had gone to a lot of trouble to leave the castle walls, but with urgent cause.

The night was chilly, the freshly fallen snow covering everything in a layer of white that glowed in the moonlight. Beneath your cloak, however, you were stiflingly warm, with both the stress of your mission and the pace you had set, though your heart was pounding at a much quicker speed than your boots on the cobblestones. There were few people on the street at this late hour, but you did not wish to attract the attention of those that were—you would surely be recognised if anybody stopped you to enquire of an emergency.

Once you had passed the light of the tavern and slipped into an alleyway, you felt assured you were safe from curious eyes and broke into an almost run, careful still of the frosty surface beneath your feet. You weren't all that concerned with your own safety at this time, but still aware that if you were to slip and break, say, your neck, your little expedition would not go unnoticed.

As the alley came to an end beside the baker's shop on the corner of the square, the scene unfolded before you just as you had imagined it. Still, it stole your breath more than the exertion and the cold air combined. In the center of the square, on one knee, arms shackled outstretched above his head like a bird's wings prepared for flight, was your oldest companion and object of your heart.

You had grown up beside Yeonjun; your fathers were the closest of friends and he had been the only other child inside the castle walls. The two of you had shared everything, been there for each other through everything - from the death of your mother to the the loss of his father, from his initiation into the royal guard as he followed in his father's footsteps, to your father marrying again and, most recently, his death. Yeonjun was the only person you knew was a genuine friend. He never asked anything of you, always told you what he really thought, only ever saw you for who you were. There were no pretences.

As you approached him your concern grew stronger. His raven hair hung in his face, his head drooped low against his chest. His shirt, too thin to be of any use against the dropping temperature, was stained with blood and torn in places, revealing shredded skin. The evidence of his punishment, forty-eight hours of penance in the square and one hundred lashings. Your mouth grew dry at the realisation that these were only the injuries you could see; most of the lashings would have been delivered to his back.

At the sound of your footsteps, he stirred, his head lolling to the side to see who might be coming—his punisher or a sympathizer. You lowered your hood, and it seemed to take a few moments before he recognized you—or maybe that you were really here—having gone without food for so long and likely being in a great deal of pain. His arms, which had been shaking, suddenly stopped. You knew he was trying to protect you from seeing the state he was in.

Yeonjun's eyes focused as you stood in front of him, and you could tell that his lips had been bitten right through; blood glossed the otherwise dry skin, and you imagined they weren't only dry from from the cold air but from panting and gasping with pain. He looked pale even in the soft glow of the warm lamps that lit the square. You knelt so he wouldn't have to strain his neck any further to look at you. His breath came out in a fog as your heart wrenched. This was just one more thing the queen had done to break you.

“I thought I might see you here,” his voice was gravelly, not the one you were used to. This was the most ragged you’d ever seen him. "Though I had hoped I wouldn't. You shouldn't be out here alone—"

"I'm in better shape than you," you quipped, trying to lighten than the mood. He always put your wellbeing above his, but in this situation you couldn't bear to hear it.

He tutted, but his eyes looked a little brighter. “You always are. Where’s your new guard?”

“I outwitted him,” you replied, proudly.

Yeonjun scoffed. “I knew I should have gotten the job. You’ve never been able to outsmart me.” It was good to see that in this condition he still had his good humoured nature about him.

Your mouth twitched with a smirk before you changed the mood with solemn words. "I would've been there. I tried to come to the trial as soon as I heard, but Stepmother had me barred.” You watched as Yeonjun awkwardly tried to bring his other leg forward to take his weight, noticing the holes that had formed in the knees of his pants from kneeling all day. "I tried to talk to her but—“

Yeonjun’s eyes flashed with worry. “You need to be careful around her."

"I know," you said quietly, looking away from his eyes while trying not to look at his wounds. “What did she sentence you for? Nobody would tell me.”

“I spoke against your betrothal," he sighed, more fog filling the air between you. Your eyes met his again hearing this. “I thought I was in good company, but I guess even friends can betray you for the chance of earning the queen's favour." Now he was the one to look away. “Forgive me, princess."

"There's nothing to forgive. You know how I feel about him.” Glancing around to check there was no one close by, you placed your hand on Yeonjun's knee. It was freezing and the skin that peeked out through the ripped fabric was almost at breaking point. You wished you could have brought something, even just a blanket or some food, but coming here was a risk in itself. It was more than likely that if anyone helped him in any way, Yeonjun would be the one punished for it.

"I was gone for some days. I knew there was a chance that…”

Your hand gently patted above his knee. “I’m still as indifferent about him as when you left." A hint of a grin flickered in the comer of his mouth.

Yeonjun had been chosen by the king, your father, to be one of the guards to escort his coffin to the royal crypt. Your father had always had his own love for Yeonjun, as if he was the son he never had. He was favoured among the guard, and the other men knew it. They also knew he held your favour.

Your stepmother, the queen, on the other hand, held no affection for him. With your father gone you were her bargaining chip to forge alliances with. You would marry whoever she saw fit, whoever offered the most advantageous union. It was clear she held no love for you, either. But of course, your heart belonged to Yeonjun. You were certain he knew, deep down. Sometimes you were sure he felt the same. But then he would switch to his professional persona, completely change his demeanour and leave you second guessing yourself.

“We should both be more careful,” you thought aloud.

You realised his arms had begun to shake with the strain again and you wished you could do something, anything, to soothe him. You wanted to reach for him further, but you thought better of it.

"Yes," his voice was serious again now. “You shouldn't be alone with a man, especially at night."

A burst of laughter broke from you and you spotted a flash of the whites of his teeth. “You’re not a man, you’re the boy I’ve spent my whole life with. Besides, what are you going to do? You can't move your arms.”

“You always aim for the low hanging fruit,” he chuckled.

A rush of wind came, causing Yeonjun to tense and wince, closing his eyes tightly. You moved your hand from him, afraid of adding to his struggles. "Is it unbearable?”

He looked up at you under the tips of hair that the wind had tousled into his eyes. "Not while you're here."

The sound of laughter came from a nearby establishment as the door opened, capturing both your attention. The light that spilled out from inside was warm and inviting, and you turned to see your dearest friend’s eyes laden with longing, probably picturing the blazing fire in the hearth, as were you.

You looked up at the long board that held his wrists in shackles. You had seen it before, of course; it was a permanent fixture in the square since your father had married that terrible woman and submitted to her views on punishment. Perhaps these punishments had never been necessary before she became queen, as nobody had ever had any treasonous feelings towards your mother or father, and neither of them were the kind to use torture as a method of penalty. You had never attended these new dealings of punishment, always scheduling your tutor at the same time to be in order to avoid being made to go. Thus, this was your first time seeing a person in this position. “I wish I could get you out of here.”

Coughing brought you from your thoughts, racking Yeonjun’s exhausted frame. “Only, what? Thirty-six hours to go? I’ll survive.”

“You’d better,” you quipped, doing your best to keep the worry from your voice as you felt you needed to keep up with his humour to help him through.

“Was it terribly boring without me?” The question was delivered with a hint of mischief.

“Oh yes,” you looked away casually. “There’s been no excitement whatsoever. Except the queen making plans for celebrations we can’t afford and firing staff who have worked in the palace since before I was born.”

Yeonjun wasn’t only trembling from the stretch of his position but also the cold of the night; his breathing beginning to shudder harshly. The thought came to you—the only thing you could do. Grabbing the ends of your cloak between your fingers, you knelt up to wrap your arms around his neck and pulled yourself in close to him.

“What’s this?” he asked, voice sounding both caught off guard and tired.

“Body heat,” you replied. You were thankful he couldn’t see your face as you said it. This was the closest you had ever been to each other, pressed so flush together this way.

He hesitated for a second before dropping his chin to your shoulder. You heard him sigh, before playing it off as a cough, ever the stubborn one. “You’re so warm.”

It was obvious that he wasn’t putting much of his weight on you, though he probably needed the relief after holding himself up like that all day, still on bent knee for the queen long after she’d gone back to the castle and gone about her day.

“I would stay with you all night if I could.”

Though the words had not passed between the two of you, you were certain he knew how you felt. Sometimes you were sure he felt the same way; adoring eyes and inside jokes, a hand lingering on your own longer than it took for you to step down from a carriage after your father had lead ahead. But then doubt always whispered in your mind. Could these not be the feelings of a close friend? A brother to a sister? A subject to royalty?

“I’m sure a princess has better things to do,” He teased over your shoulder. Suddenly his body tensed slightly against you. He pulled himself away from you, breaking the circle of your arms around his neck. “You’ve got company.”

You followed Yeonjun’s eyes to see the man who was now named your guard entering the square, the cloak of those in service to the queen recognisable even in the dimness of the moonlight. “Drat.” It took quite an effort not to roll your eyes as you turned back to your friend with a regretful air. “I’ll come back tomorrow night.”

“I don’t want you getting in trouble.” His eyes, full of sincerity but with that familiar sharpness that conveyed he really meant it, followed yours as you stood.

You wanted to make a joke, but you couldn't find it in yourself to lighten the mood at this moment. Instead, you simply nodded your head to show you understood, making no promises. Then you steeled yourself, gathering the strength to hold a neutral demeanour as you head towards the guard who would lead you back to the castle, hoping against hope that your stepmother had not been informed that you had been out of its walls. She would know without questioning that you had been to see Yeonjun. You didn’t let yourself look back as you left the square, though every part of you begged for you to turn around just once.

Back in the castle, guards posted outside your door, you couldn’t rid yourself of the shivers that wracked you. It wasn’t the cold—your chamber was still toasty from the fire the attendants had set earlier in the evening, still crackling gently at this hour—but the reality of the situation that weighed heavily on you after your outing. Looking around the room you were engulfed by an emotion you could not name—anger, guilt, sorrow?—on finding yourself amongst warmth and luxuries while he endured the bitter cold and harsh penalty beyond these walls.

Maybe the queen could sleep soundly tonight, but you would not. You couldn’t face the bed, the sight of the plush blankets and pillows tightening the ache in your chest that had only intensified with your visit. Shaky hands untying the cloak around your shoulders, you set yourself down on the floor, pulling it over your frame as you stretched out, your arm the only semblance of a pillow. The cloak was still wet where it had dragged through the fresh snow, but you didn’t care. Staring vacantly into the glow of the fireplace, your mind replayed what you had seen. You couldn’t help but feel that this was only the beginning of your troubles, as if you were on the precipice of something you were set to fall from. You would not let your stepmother take Yeonjun down with you.

written by mapofthemazeinthemirror - do not repost my work in any form

warnings: drunkenness, mentions of kissing, one use of sh*t

"Please leave a message after the tone."

Listen... baby... He's drunk. He may be more drunk than you've ever known him to be. I know- I know it's too late, but you know I have to try because... A deep sigh. Because I can't lose you, okay? I know I already did, and it's killing me, baby. I... baby? Why won't you say something? Oh, right. Damn, I miss you so much. I miss your voice. I miss the way you'd be counting down before the countdown just to make sure we were together, and there was no way we'd miss out on our New Year's kiss. He chuckles, the sound turning into a scoff at the end. I wonder who you're kissing now. I just- I know you said that I just don't want to be alone, but... but it's not true. It's you. It's only you that I want to see right now, all the time. Believe me, there's a party full of people in the next room, girls who would be climbing all over me- no... no, I didn't mean that- shit. He's silent for a moment. I love you. I love you, and I would do anything for you to please just give me one more chance, I-

"Voicemail box full."

written by mapofthemazeinthemirror - do not repost my work in any form

«❝ 𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐍𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐖𝐚𝐲 𝐀𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 ❞» - PT. TWO

Yeonjun was the one to break up with you, so why does he want you back now?

➸ check part one out here!

«────« ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ────»

Pairing: Yeonjun x Reader (female)

Genre: 335 cups of fluff and 3 cups of angst

Warnings: a bit suggestive maybe??? cursing, eating, cheesy cringe stuff hehe, ++ unedited so there may be a lot of mistakes !!

Song: I’ll Never Love This Way Again

(YUH OMG FINALLY I FINISHED THIS REQUEST IM SCREAMING OMG??? i’m so sorry that this took so long, i know a lot of people waited for it 😭😭 and for the anon who requested this bc there wasn’t a notif- keah accidentally deleted it 😭😭. ngl i would die for yeonjun in this. ANYWAY, i hope you enjoyyy~~ i rlly liked doing something like this and yes i have to mention the happiness it gave me at 1am when i finally finished it 😌💕)

«──── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ────»

As easy as it was to say compared to real life, Choi Yeonjun was a wreck. A horrible, horrible and you must’ve forget to say- horrible wreck! That is including the duration of time before and after the second time you left.

How he roused one morning to you no where in sight after a vicious night of going out was something he deeply regretted. He would do anything to go back to that day, of course. He wasn’t sure about how you were doing, but jeez did he want to see those bright glints in your eyes whenever you saw him again. To see you smiling like nothing was wrong or giggling when he finally made ticklish contact on those sensitive places or even how you’d frown before him due to his carelessness. His mind drew him back to the ungodly hour of 4am when you scolded him for the scar on his arm he didn’t seem to realize until later and the way you made sure nothing else on his body was hurt. Yeah anyone could tell that didn’t go very well considering he was a boy and you were a girl, but that wasn’t the point!

In simple terms, he missed you more than anyone he’s ever laid eyes upon and the plain truth was that. You weren’t easy to be shaken off his mind after that ordeal of getting you to himself for one, final night. It hurt him most to see the disgusted expression on your face as if you were staring straight at a pile of elephant poop on the ground, not wanting to do anything with it because it was useless and foul. He couldn’t possibly make it your fault too, which meant he shouldn’t have been surprised. Breaking your poor heart by insulting you and taking you for granted, everything was wrong with him for thinking this way!

Whether he liked it or not, his heart said differently about this matter.

Keep reading