𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆

LAST WORDS • kim hongjoong

pairing: prince!hongjoong x princess!reader

synopsis: when you and hongjoong were expected to marry to unify your kingdoms, you made a pact to fulfill your duties as the crown prince and princess. somewhere along the way, your alliance becomes a bit more than political and it becomes an even greater weight to bear.

word count: TBD

WILTED FLOWER • park seonghwa

pairing: prince!seonghwa x healer!reader

synopsis: when you're hired to heal the prince's mysterious illness, you're not exactly thrilled. the king was cruel and he surely was no different. during his treatment, you unravel more about him than you'd expect and you realize you might be wrong about more than one thing, after all.

word count: TBD

WITHOUT QUESTION • jeong yunho

pairing: knight!yunho x princess!reader

synopsis: titles aside, yunho was one of your best friends. he was a skilled guard, a great listener and a perfect confidant for the nights you needed someone to cover up your grand escapes. although, you're so wrapped up in what yunho allows you that you fail to notice one crucial detail—he does it because he's hopelessly in love with you.

word count: TBD

HIGH TOWER • kang yeosang

pairing: prince!yeosang x maid!reader

synopsis: yeosang has been held hostage by your kingdom ever since he was a boy. while years of negotiations ensue, he is confined to a tower away from the rest of the castle. your job is to tend to him daily (and find out if he's plotting a grand escape). what you find when you meet him might not be what you expected at all.

word count: TBD

GILDED CAGE • choi san

pairing: artist!san x princess!reader

synopsis: san was one of the kingdom's most talented performers that the king and queen just had to have. he's now bound to the castle, destined to perform for nobility as they wish. it was no different from you being confined to your duties as the princess, although san had a much different outlook on freedom than you did.

word count: TBD

MARTINGALE • song mingi

pairing: knight!mingi x princess!reader

synopsis: sit up straight. avoid speaking out of turn. maintain proper distance with your dance partners. if you were to follow one more rule, you would lose your mind. enter a knight that routinely monitors the horse stables, your only escape from your god-awful reality. perhaps he could help you experience true freedom, after all.

word count: TBD

THE ROSE'S THORN • jung wooyoung

pairing: prince!wooyoung x princess!reader

synopsis: it was no secret that you were and wooyoung were in love. when a strategic marriage promises you to someone else, he makes it very well known that he's against it. with every drunken spur and every tiff with a fellow royal, you find it harder and harder to remember the man you fell in love with.

word count: TBD

PEACE OFFERING • choi jongho

pairing: king!jongho x queen!reader

synopsis: you were one of jongho's closest childhood friends. after the brutal execution of his parents, he ascends the throne at a younger age than expected and brings you along with him. as power consumes him, he becomes nearly unrecognizable from the boy you once knew.

A half-pitied, half-sympathetic look is all Beomgyu can muster to send your way. Your back aches and your eyes have begun to dry out from how long you’ve been sitting before your computer, continuing to tackle the workload that never seems to end. You find yourself pouting at your friend’s lack of response to your dramatics, straightening up and stretching your sore muscles as you glance back from your spot at the kitchen table; your eyes linger on his form, slouched and tired as he hovers over the stove, clearly lost in thought as he stares off into the distance, out the small window placed beside him— and you sigh. 

“Smells good,” you mutter quietly, breaking Beomgyu out of trance, the boy flinching at the sudden sound of your voice; he turns back to you, eyes lighting up playfully, examining your equally tired form, “d’you make enough for two by chance?” 

“As if,” Beomgyu scoffs, but even so, he proceeds to reach into the cabinets to grab dishes— two bowls, two cups, two pairs of chopsticks— the sight garnering a roll of your eyes, choosing to bite your tongue as you turn back around in your seat, back to the essays and assignments that no longer seemed to make sense to you; behind you, a soft clatter sounds— you find yourself softly humming along to the playlist Beomgyu has put on in the background.

“You really should learn how to manage your time better,” Beomgyu scolds you softly, setting a bowl of ramen before you, followed by a glass of water— and he roughly takes a seat beside you, scooting his chair closer, your shoulders bumping as he looks over at your screen, “You’re always procrastinating for no reason.” 

“I know you’re not talking,” you sneer light-heartedly, shutting your laptop before placing it off to the side; you’re mixing the ramen around absentmindedly, watching the steam pour out as you speak, “you’re literally worse than me.”

He tries to refute you yet again— only this time, Beomgyu finds that he can’t say much to that; he’s had an impeccable track record of pushing things back until the very last minute, and the vice of his has burrowed its way into him since high school, much too late for him to be able to change his ways now. You laugh mockingly at his defeat. 

The rest of your meal is mostly spent in silence; it’s times like these where conversations with Beomgyu always seem to dwindle, having already spent so much of your day together to be able to talk about some new or interesting thing that happened— because by the time the sun has begun to set, you’ve already told Beomgyu everything that’s on your mind. But, with the way life has been going for the both of you recently, even that seems to be sparse. Your body deflates at the reminder of your painfully plain life; a sigh falls from you involuntarily. 

“What’s up with you recently?” Beomgyu asks, raising a brow at your sulking posture, “I’ve never seen you so depressed.”

You’re sending a sheepish smile his way, lips parting to give him some generic excuse, unsure of the real answer yourself— but you’re distracted by the sound of Beomgyu’s calm, quiet playlist switching to something much more drastic, the abrupt sound of nature and birds chirping making your brows knit together, glancing at the speaker that blares these noises to you both. 

“Ugh, I forgot you still have ads on your account,” you groan dramatically, leaning back in your chair to send your friend a judgemental look; Beomgyu seems unphased by it, muttering tiredly for you to be quiet; your comment is both predictable and repetitive, yet you never fail to send him a teasing smile after. 

“It’s okay, nothing wrong with being broke,” you tease further, the monologue of the advertisement practically memorized in your mind; you pause for a second to listen, the familiar preaches to take care of the Earth and the people in it swiftly transitioning to the real purpose of Beomgyu’s music break:

“BioGen seeks to bring back what once belonged to the beings of this planet, to bring forward hope, and develop brighter, stronger generations. Join the cause and…”

“This alone was enough to make me buy premium,” you say, standing from your seat to go wash your dishes, “I was so sick of having to hear that ad every five minutes.”

“You learn to block it out after enough times,” Beomgyu replies, coming up behind you and placing his dishes in the sink, just as you were about done— your eyes glare sharply at him yet your hands have already gotten to work, the boy only giving you a triumphant grin in return, “Guess I’m just better than you.”

Placing his dishes on the drying rack, you protest petulantly— he’s just as quick to mock your whiny tone and taunt you, body closing in on you as the two of you going back and forth like children— with no end to the bickering in sight, you go to flick water at him playfully; he yelps, and before either of you can really think things through, he goes to retaliate. 

The kitchen is filled with sounds of screams, curses, and laughter, the wooden floor becoming slippery and the reasoning behind your quarrel long forgotten; Beomgyu’s playlist queues back on in the background all the while.

The night ends with exhausted giggles and another round of cleaning; your shirt sticks to your body and Beomgyu’s hair drips, and you follow the boy back to the bathroom to get a towel to dry off— leaning back on your hands against the counter, you watch him with tired, heavy eyes. 

“Your hair’s getting longer,” you comment softly, watching Beomgyu fluff and dry his hair, his own gaze glued to the mirror in front of him; his eyes flicker over to you before they go back to himself, fingertips grazing the hair that’s begun to grow past the tops of his ears. 

“I’m getting it cut in a few weeks,” is all he says in return, lips twitching at the way you complain at the news.

“What? I thought you were gonna grow it out,” you pout, the sight of Beomgyu shaking his head softly only making you frown, “What happened to the guy that was so desperate to try and get that wolf cut look?”

“Well, that was when I was seventeen and wasn’t allowed to grow out my hair,” Beomgyu counters, raising a brow and throwing you a knowing look, “plus, I did grow my hair out that summer, remember? It was hell to take care of, I hated it.” 

“You were just lazy,” you mumble to yourself, yelping at the smack you receive on your bicep from the words, “It’s true! You barely tried to style it properly.”

Beomgyu simply smiles and rolls his eyes— he doesn’t bother to respond because he knows you’re right. 

“All of us loved it though,” you say quietly, staring down at your feet and tapping to an invisible rhythm— a song from Beomgyu’s playlist that got stuck in your head probably, he did have some catchy songs in there— “We always thought it made you look pretty.”

The boy huffs out a laugh; memories of your friend group cycle through his mind, all the days where they teased him and played with his hair playing like a movie— jabs and jokes followed with gentle hands that smoothed down his head, tucking stray hairs back and calling him a pretty princess with that annoying cooed tone— a small smile finds its way onto his face, a glance back at you showing that you must be reminiscing the same things, eyes alight and lips curved into a fond smile; feeling his gaze on you, you meet his eyes boldly, fuzzy memories of summers past fading from your mind, taking in how the scrawny boy you’ve known since birth has now turned into the man he is today— and your mind inevitably wanders off to the others.

“I wonder how they’re doing,” you confess, not needing to say any names to let Beomgyu know who you’re talking about; Beomgyu’s face softens, and he turns back to the mirror, squeezing out the last bits of water that remain in his hair as he hums softly, lost in thought.

“I’m sure they’re fine,” he reassures you, curious with the way your gaze remains downcast, “You act like we’ll never see them again.”

“Well, I haven’t heard from them in ages,” you complain, head tilting back to the ceiling, letting out a big sigh for dramatic effect, “the group chat is so dead, and everyone’s so busy these days.”

“I know; I almost miss Yeonjun spamming it,” Beomgyu jokes, bringing about a soft laugh from you; the atmosphere around you lightens up, and Beomgyu finishes up the final touches with his hair, fluffing it up before he throws the towel at you; it lands on your head and covers face unceremoniously, and you yelp indignantly, quick hands taking it off immediately.

“We just have to make it to Friday,” he says firmly, innocent grin an instinctive response to the glare you send his way, “Only a week till Friday and we’ll see everyone, right?”

“Right,” you murmur, narrowed eyes following his figure that backs out the door slowly, clearly trying to escape your silent wrath, “Just make it to Friday.”

“Exactly,” he chirps, your eyes trained on him as he starts to step out the doorway, “try not to be so depressed till then.” 

He jumps out of sight just as you throw the dirty towel right where he once stood; it lands with a sad, heavy plop, and Beomgyu’s victorious laugh rings out the hallway as he runs off to his bedroom, a loud goodnight! is the last thing you hear before his door closes. 

It’s silent; your eyes fall onto the towel that remains on the floor, the roll of your eyes contrasting the smile that grows on your lips. 

“Goodnight,” you call out to the empty hallway, throwing the towel into the hamper before you turn the lights off; the house is shrouded in complete darkness, and you make your way to your bedroom with slow, tired steps; Beomgyu’s words echo in your head without you realizing. 

Just make it to Friday.

Taehyun’s place has always been the ideal place for hangouts for three obvious reasons: it’s the most spacious, he lives alone, and of course, he’s the best cook. 

It’s a fact you’re reminded of as you lay back on the couch and glance over at the mess happening in the kitchen— because Hueningkai just had to insist on helping out, the clumsy boy resigned to dish duties after almost chopping off his finger— twice, all five of you practically jumping out your skins each time he let out an undignified screech, followed by the sound of the knife clattering on the cutting board. And though Taehyun had sent the youngest a scathing glare, the relief in his face was obvious by the way he clutched the fallen knife close to his body and shooed Hueningkai away to the sink filled with dirty pots and pans. 

A random drama drones off in the television; it was clear that the show was there for background noise and nothing more, seated next to Beomgyu on the couch as the two of you catch up with Soobin and Yeonjun, listening to them rant and complain about the heavy workload of their classes or angry customers they’ve encountered at their jobs. 

“Did you know the mall is closed down?” Yeonjun says, your surprised gasp and incredulous glance to the boy beside you enough to answer his question, “yeah, some pipes burst and flooded like half the place— they’re closing down for maintenance for the next two weeks.”

“But what about the workers?” you ask, watching as two of the said workers shrug their shoulders dismissively, clearly not as stressed about the situation as you expected them to be.

“We got an email from our supervisors that we’ll probably be paid for the days we were scheduled,” Soobin says, the undeniable twinkle in his eyes telling you that he didn’t really mind this whole situation, “Like PTO, I guess.”

“Wish that place got closed for a month instead,” Yeonjun huffs, a yawn ripping through him as he stretches his arms over his head, letting out a big sigh once they fall limp at his sides, “fucking hate that place.” 

“Same.”

When there’s nothing to complain about and they’ve seemed to have updated you on every miniscule detail of their life— how their finals are approaching, this new snack they’ve recently discovered at the gas station on the way home, apparently attempting to “put you on”— the three turn to you, not expecting the way you shift and shrink into the couch at all; they ask if there’s anything new or interesting going on in your life, and all you can do is clear your throat in nervous thought. 

“Not really,” you say with a sheepish smile, watching as Soobin and Yeonjun send you a curious look, as though they didn’t believe you, “Life’s just… been really boring recently. Nothing interesting has happened.”

Nothing? They echo, humming softly at the sight of your affirming nods; quite unlike you, they can’t help but think, always having something to do, something to say, a new story to tell— Hueningkai’s loud and projected voice calling you all to the kitchen seems to be your saving grace, the tension slipping off your muscles as you all rush to gather around. 

In a big, scary world like this, where your lives are in a liminal state and you couldn’t even bring yourself to confidently talk about how your days have been going, it was moments like these that mattered the most— because even if Taehyun lived on his own, with no family in town to constantly check up and dote on him, his kitchen said otherwise; the dining table was large and full, and his cabinets were packed with more dishes than he knew what to do with on most days— you all pretended you didn’t notice the fond smile on his face as he set down dish after dish, ramen and meat and enough side dishes to leave you all stuffed and drowsy.

“I’m gonna cry, I haven’t had a proper meal in so long,” Hueningkai was the first to cry out, his plate full to the brim yet his chopsticks still reaching out for more, unfazed at the way Soobin and Yeonjun continue to sneak meat onto his dish, “I’ve had to survive off reheat stuff ever since I got that stupid internship, I almost went insane.”

“Awh, you poor thing,” you coo out, a teasing smile on your face as you reach to place rolled omelets on his plate as well, already guessing he’d try to reach over for them anyway, “You gotta make sure you eat so you get big and strong, okay? Don’t skip out on meals.”

Hueningkai scoffs at your jabs— but before he can try to give your teasing a rebuttal, you’re craning your head to where Taehyun sits, on the other side of Beomgyu and completely lost in his own food; he visibly jumps when you call his name, wide eyes peeking up at you mid-bite.

“How is that internship going for you two so far, anyway?” you ask, glancing back at Hueningkai to make sure he was listening, “I keep hearing the stupid commercials about it when Beomgyu plays his music.”

“That’s for another division of the project,” Taehyun is quick to correct, Hueningkai nodding along at his words, “they’re looking for people to test on.”

“What?!” you exclaim, everyone else but Hueningkai as equally surprised as you are, “Is that… safe?”

“I mean, it’s legal,” Hueningkai slowly begins, a bit sheepish as the sight of your concerned frown that forms at his words, “everything is thoroughly discussed beforehand, but with a project like this, there’s obviously bound to be some risks.”

“And people still agree to it?” Soobin asks, his words muffled by the mouthful of food he chews through— he gets a slight jab on the side from Yeonjun because of it. 

Hueningkai nods. 

“We’ve already had a few hundreds go through testing already in groups; placebos, beta products, reactions to certain ingredients…”

“It probably pays good,” Beomgyu pipes up, looking at Taehyun for confirmation, “doesn’t it?”

Taehyun thinks the question through, humming in thought before he finally answers.

“Yeah, I guess so,” he says, “but I’m not exactly sure how much it is.”

“Woah, maybe I should volunteer,” you say, watching as Taehyun and Hueningkai turn to you in surprise; a coy smile tweaks at your lips, and you send them a wink with your next words. “But only if one of you is the one testing on me.”

The table erupts into laughs and groans; Taehyun’s grumble of don’t be weird, isn’t lost on you, but soon enough, everyone else finds themselves joining in.

“You should test on me too,” Yeonjun grins, reaching over to try and grab Taehyun’s hand; the said man recoils immediately, “maybe then I won’t be tired all the time.”

“Me too— c’mon, stop gatekeeping that BioGen stuff!”

“You should sneak some of the finished product over to us.”

“Yeah, that’s what true friends do!” 

“Pleaaase?”

“Hueningie!” 

Voices melt and stack in a loud cacophony— you don’t know who’s saying what anymore, or who’s talking to who, but you’ve all erupted in your own conversations, teasing the two smartest members in your group or choosing to talk about something else; it’s lively, it’s restless, and soon enough, all the food from the table has disappeared.

You play rock paper scissors to see who does the dishes; you and Soobin lose with loud cries of dismay. 

“Do you remember that ice cream truck that would always go around our neighborhood at this time?”

Spring must be near; you find yourself thinking that as you lean back against the porch fence, your legs spread haphazardly over Soobin’s lap— all the comfortable lawn chairs had already been taken by the others by the time the two of you finished cleaning up, leaving you to sit on the floor, not that you really minded— you got a better look at the few stars that were still visible in the sky this way, anyway.

“The one that never stopped for us?” Soobin asks, causing you to laugh with a soft nod, “I hated that truck.”

“But it had the best ice cream though,” Hueningkai says, you and Soobin craning your heads back to where the boy sat in the corner, curled up in his chair and staring back with drowsy eyes, “nothing could top it.”

“Maybe ‘cause we had to run down two blocks to catch it,” Yeonjun interjects, smiling at the laughter he gets in response, countless memories seemingly flooding into everyone’s minds— the coin purses or ziplock bags that were clenched in your hands, the relentless sun that shined in your faces as you tried to yell at the ice cream truck to stop— the music must’ve drowned you all out, you think to yourself, because each time the old lady driving stopped for you guys, she always seemed to have a genuine shock that would paint her face. 

Oh my, you guys look so tired!

“I miss that lady,” you find yourself blurting out, unable to stop the nostalgia that drips through your words, “I miss those times.”

The air grows a bit heavy— you gulp, mentally scolding yourself as your friends fall into deep thought.

“This place does look a bit sadder, huh?” Taehyun wonders aloud, eyes drifting along the neighborhood; the once lively streets and lit up houses now barren, now dark, “a lot emptier.”

Silence. Though no one says it, you know they all agree. 

“But hey, that’ll fix itself soon!” Yeonjun pipes up, throwing an arm over Taehyun’s shoulder, shaking him out of his reverie; Yeonjun only grins, sending Hueningkai a knowing look, “we got our two geniuses working on the magic cure. It’ll get finished in no time at this point.”

“I don’t know about that,” Taehyun scoffs lightheartedly, shrugging off Yeonjun’s arm, “it’s a lot more complicated than you think.”

You all recognize that little trail off in Taehyun’s sentence: there’s more to his words than he wants to tell. Beomgyu is curious enough to be the first to bite the bait.

“More complicated than we think?” Beomgyu echoes, cocking his head to the side and raising a brow, “what do you mean? Is there something weird going on behind the scenes?”

“No,” Taehyun quickly says, causing all of you to stare at him in clear disbelief, “Well, I can’t tell you anyway.”

“So there is?” Hueningkai asks— when you send him a confused look, the said man only shrugs. “Hey, I’m in a different department, I’m not directly involved in making the thing.”

All eyes are back on Taehyun in search of answers. 

“Well,” he sputters, actively avoiding all ten pairs of eyes that keep track of his every movement, “I… even I don’t know, honestly; they’re not letting me take too much of a direct part in making the solutions— I’ve never even seen the test subjects they gather.

“There’s like. A division of three people that are directly involved with the test subjects. The rest of us only receive vague feedback and instructions.”

“Creepy,” you shudder, Soobin nodding along at your exclamation, “sounds like they’re hiding something.”

Taehyun doesn’t refute your words; if anything, his brows knit together in thought. 

“They said they’re gonna release an update of the first test subjects tomorrow,” Yeonjun jumps up again, quick as always to relieve a tense mood, “they’re making it sound like it’s nothing but good news.

“This place will be back to normal before we know it,” Yeonjun smiles, eyes falling onto you knowingly, “the future will be better.”

You nod along to his statement, even if you don’t find yourself believing it. A silence falls shortly after, and you’re looking back up at the sky again.

“The stars look pretty tonight,” you mumble.

You hear a scoff behind you.

“What stars? There’s like two out.” 

“Do you always have to try to ruin my fun?”

The bickering is endless between you all— but it’s not malicious in the slightest. No, it feels normal, feels familiar, even as you make faces and gestures and call each other names. 

It feels like home, and it feels like the only thing that makes you hope for the future.